Chapter 11

The man standing behind them was none other than Vanguard, the training camp commander.

His face was etched with wrinkles that made him look as though he were perpetually seething with rage.

He glared at the two of them with wide-open eyes.

“You get one day off, and you think training is over?!”

BANG!

He slammed his boot against the floor.

Ethan and Coren instinctively straightened their postures.

They answered in unison.

“No, sir!”

“What the hell is going to change just because the two of you are fighting?!”

Vanguard strode toward Coren.

“Coren! You’ve been snooping around behind people’s backs like a rat. If you were going to do it, you should’ve done it without getting caught. You let your tail get too long! Should I stomp on it until it’s crushed?! Huh?!”

“…”

Coren gritted his teeth but didn’t dare talk back.

However, the reprimand wasn’t over.

Vanguard immediately turned toward Ethan.

“Ethan! You’ve earned a few merits, and now you think you can strut around like you own the place!”

“No, sir. I didn’t even start this, so I think this is completely unfair.”

“Shut up!”

His excuse was cut short by a furious roar.

Vanguard took another step forward.

“Both of you! You’ve wasted your damn years and still can’t do a single thing properly! People like you aren’t even worth the taxpayer money spent feeding you!”

CRACK!

He kicked the leg of the table they had been eating at. The sturdy wooden support snapped with a loud crack, and the table collapsed to one side, sending the plates and food tumbling to the floor.

“Do you two half-baked pieces of shit even know what you’re supposed to be doing?!”

Coren and Ethan stared at him in silence.

With both arms held rigidly behind his back, Coren answered.

“We are to receive discipline, sir!”

Despite his impeccably disciplined posture, Ethan gave a response so absurdly casual that it was almost unbelievable.

“…Well, first, I suppose we should clean this up.”

“The correct answer is to master the fundamentals! Ethan!”

GRIP!

Vanguard tightened his hand around Ethan’s shoulder.

His grip grew as hard as stone, squeezing down until Ethan clenched his teeth and swallowed a groan.

“Ugh…”

But Ethan quickly regained his composure and spoke in an otherwise calm voice.

“Commander, you’re going to dislocate my shoulder.”

Vanguard’s eyebrows twitched as he glared at him. Then, without warning, he roughly released Ethan’s shoulder.

As the pressure abruptly vanished, Ethan staggered and grabbed his shoulder.

“One day off, and your bodies have already gone soft.”

Vanguard snorted.

“Meal time is over! Both of you are running to the training grounds right now!”

Everyone looked stunned, but when Vanguard narrowed his eyes, the trainees immediately stood up, formed ranks, and ran toward the training grounds.

“That goes for you two as well!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Understood!”

Vanguard barked at Ethan and Coren too. They saluted respectfully before joining the formation.

The training grounds were filled with a heavy, taut tension.

The trainees had already completed their basic exercises, and their mastery of Hittite Body Tempering had advanced to a level approaching proficiency.

Their eyes were far sharper than before, and their powers of perception had improved by leaps and bounds.

However, the training that would begin today was on an entirely different level.

Instructor Walter slowly stepped forward.

His imposing presence alone was enough to make the trainees straighten their backs.

With both hands clasped behind him, he spoke in a low, firm voice.

“Starting today, you will enter the stage of properly learning to wield mana.”

A quiet murmur spread through the ranks. Walter paid it no mind and continued.

“However, the mana refinement process you’re about to learn is completely different from the methods commonly known to the world.”

He swept his fingertips through the air, and a single character appeared: the glowing red rune ᚠ (Fehu).

“Unlike ordinary mages or Swordmasters, Collectors use runes to refine their mana.”

The rune glowed brightly in midair.

The trainees held their breath as they stared at it. Walter placed one hand against his chest and continued his explanation.

“A mage’s mana reserves are housed in the heart and vital center, while a Swordmaster stores theirs in the dantian. Collectors are different. We inscribe runes directly onto the heart.”

Several trainees looked visibly shocked.

The idea of inscribing a rune directly onto one’s heart was almost impossible to imagine.

Walter ignored their unease and continued.

“The moment a rune is inscribed, you gain more than the ability to manipulate mana. You directly acquire an elemental affinity. You won’t even need to chant a spell. All it takes is the will to make fire, and your mana will become flames and burn. How effectively you wield that power is entirely up to you.”

One of the trainees raised a hand and asked,

“Doesn’t that mean we can cast magic much faster than mages?”

Walter smiled bitterly and nodded.

“That’s right. But great power always comes at a price.”

His gaze swept across the trainees.

“Once a rune is inscribed, your mana’s elemental affinity becomes fixed. Inscribe fire, and you get fire. Inscribe ice, and you get ice. In other words, the element you choose will become both your strength and… your weakness. If you possess the power of fire and your opponent uses water, you could be thoroughly overwhelmed.”

Silence fell over the training grounds. Each trainee wore a grave expression.

“Now, let’s begin.”

At Walter’s signal, the instructors distributed third-grade rune stones to the trainees.

They were small, rough, and unremarkable stones.

Each trainee accepted one.

“A third-grade rune stone?”

One trainee muttered in disappointment. The others felt much the same.

They stared at the rune stones, which seemed far weaker than they had expected, and looked less than impressed.

But one trainee seemed to think nothing of it.

“Ultimately, all I have to do is refine the mana, right?”

He gripped the rune stone tightly and took a deep breath.

Then he began channeling mana into it.

In an instant—

CRACK!

His eyes rolled back unnaturally, and his heart began to pound violently.

Blood rushed to his face, and dark red blood trickled down from his forehead.

Before he could even scream, he collapsed backward.

THUD.

He lay unconscious, unable to regain his senses.

The training grounds fell deathly silent.

The other trainees stiffened, glancing nervously down at the rune stones in their hands.

Walter watched the fallen trainee with his arms crossed before speaking in a low voice.

“Underestimate runes, and you’ll pay dearly for it.”

He gestured toward the unconscious trainee and added,

“A strong body houses a strong mind. The same principle applies to powerful mana. The reason you’ve spent all this time learning Hittite Body Tempering is to prepare yourselves to endure this very process.”

“Is this method… really that effective?”

Rebecca asked cautiously as she looked around.

Most of the trainees appeared skeptical, but none dared complain outright.

Training as a Collector had always defied conventional wisdom.

Still, the idea of inscribing runes directly onto their hearts seemed both unfamiliar and dangerously reckless.

“Wouldn’t it be safer to refine mana using the conventional method?”

At her question, Walter narrowed his eyes slightly.

Twisting the corner of his mouth and clicking his tongue, he replied in a low voice.

“If you follow conventional methods, you’ll never even reach the heels of a Swordmaster or an Archmage. Why? Because their strength is the sum of talent and years of effort, starting from childhood. And we’re supposed to collect dues from people like that.”

He picked up a rune stone lying on the ground and continued.

“The reason Collectors can become so powerful is simple. We use force that transcends conventional understanding to catch our enemies off guard. With standardized swordsmanship or magic alone, you can only achieve a predictable level of strength. But this method of refining mana through runes?”

WHOOSH!

Walter had merely closed his eyes and stood perfectly still.

Yet flames suddenly engulfed his body.

“I-Instructor!”

The trainees looked at him in alarm, worried for his safety, but he continued speaking as calmly as ever.

“With a single act of will, you can change everything.”

The red aura gradually faded away.

The trainees’ eyes wavered as they watched.

Traditional mages and swordsmen first refined and stored their mana, then unleashed it in an explosive burst whenever they needed it.

But this?

All it took was the will to make fire, and mana itself became flames.

They could understand the concept intellectually, but accepting it was another matter entirely.

Still, Walter’s firm declaration left no room for further objections.

“With enough mastery, you can approach the level of a Swordmaster or an Archmage.”

The trainees quietly nodded.

No one complained anymore.

One by one, they picked up their third-grade rune stones and began concentrating.

The rune-based method of mana refinement was revolutionary. However, without an instructor nearby to guide them, the process could easily result in death.

Hiss.

One trainee pressed a rune stone against his chest and channeled mana into it.

The rune failed to respond, seemingly rejecting the mana.

The mana flowing backward through his body spiraled out of control, and blood began to trickle from the corner of his mouth.

Walter immediately rushed over, pressed down on the trainee’s chest to block the flow of mana, and administered emergency treatment.

“If a rune rejects you, stop immediately. If you recklessly force the process, your heart could melt.”

Nevertheless, a few trainees managed to inscribe runes onto their hearts after several attempts.

But even that was dangerous.

One trainee carefully channeled mana into his rune stone, only for the rune to suddenly go berserk.

As the rune was being inscribed, an excessive amount of magical energy flooded into it, causing the surrounding air to freeze rapidly.

“W-What the hell?”

Murmurs spread through the ranks.

The trainees nearby recoiled in shock.

The trainee’s entire body turned deathly pale. Clutching his chest, he collapsed to the ground.

Walter immediately stabilized the rune and continued his explanation.

“This is what happens when you inject too much mana into a rune. When refining mana, the important thing isn’t power… it’s balance.”

“At this rate, people are going to start dying before they even achieve mastery.”

The trainees whispered among themselves, their fear growing.

Even so, they continued training. Walter was an expert, and having him nearby seemed to offer at least some reassurance.

However, there was one variable that even Walter had failed to anticipate.

That variable was Ethan.

In training like this, mental fortitude is ultimately what matters. And when it comes to breathing techniques, nothing beats this one.

Ethan sat cross-legged.

He straightened his back and slowly inhaled.

He held a rune stone in each hand.

Their rough surfaces dug into his palms, but he paid no attention.

Closing his eyes, he pictured a rune being inscribed onto his heart.

Hiss.

He imagined himself peering directly into his own heart.

A dark space.

Within it lay an empty area where the imprint of a rune could be left behind.

A portion of his heart appeared before him, as though it were an unfamiliar sheet of paper fluttering in the darkness.

A thread of mana, finer than a hair, slowly descended upon it.

Mana flowed from the rune stones and seeped into his heart.

Slowly. Very slowly.

Like characters gradually being carved into an ancient stone tablet, the Fehu rune (ᚠ) began to take shape.

This is it…

Ethan quietly held his breath.

He tried to make the rune more distinct.

As though carving it into stone with his own hands, he attempted to engrave it directly using mana.

Just as the rune was about to settle onto the surface of his heart—

CRACK!

An ominous sound rang out.

The rune stone suddenly developed a small fracture, as though it were rejecting the process.

At the same time, Ethan felt as if his heart were freezing solid.

“…!”

Ethan’s eyes snapped open.

A frigid sensation gripped his heart, and dizziness washed over him. His breath caught in his throat.

The rune stone in his hand had developed a faint crack, and the rune, never fully inscribed, was fading away, leaving behind only a trace.

As he stared blankly at the stone in bewilderment, Walter noticed him and gave a rueful smile.

“…Ethan, you really are a troublesome bastard in more ways than one.”

He narrowed his eyes and muttered the words under his breath.

An ambiguous expression flickered across his face, impossible to distinguish as either mockery or admiration.