There were three fundamental ways to wield magic: Release, Absorb, and Hold. Over time, those who could manipulate mana had naturally divided into two distinct paths—Mages and Fighters.

  Mages focused on Release and Absorb, refining raw mana into elemental forces—fire, water, wind, and beyond. The strength of their magic depended on their ability to convert mana efficiently, a skill measured by the number of mana circles they possessed. The more circles, the greater their control and power.

  Fighters, on the other hand, primarily utilized Absorb and Hold. Instead of casting spells, they condensed mana around their bodies, drastically enhancing their physical abilities. Their senses sharpened, their speed and strength multiplied, and their durability reached inhuman levels. At the core of their strength lay their mana cores, which formed around their hearts. The more cores a fighter possessed, the greater their potential for power and endurance.

  Luan shut the book with a dull thud, his fingers tightening around the worn edges of the pages. His eyes, usually filled with quiet contemplation, darkened with frustration.

  But I can't even hold mana inside my body. How am I supposed to form a circle or a core when the mana just dissipates the moment I try?

  His grip on the book trembled slightly as his teeth clenched. It was an undeniable truth—he had no talent for magic. No matter how hard he tried, mana refused to bend to his will.

  Yet, even as that bitter thought passed through his mind, another burned even brighter, refusing to let despair settle in.

  Then I’ll forge my strength another way.

  Luan’s mind replayed the fight from yesterday—his duel with Leon. He had seen it. The trajectory of Leon’s attacks had been clear in his vision, as if time itself had slowed for a brief moment. And yet, his body had been too sluggish to react. His lack of physical strength had rendered his keen perception useless.

  "You should just give up, Luan," Leon had sneered after their fight. "Without mana, you'll never be anything more than a weakling."

  The words still echoed in his mind, fueling his determination.

  Mana is just a tool to enhance a fighter’s abilities. But what if I train without it?

  The thought sent a surge of determination through his veins. It was said that a warrior who pushed their body beyond its limits—even without mana—could reach the level of a one-core fighter.

  Luan took a deep breath, his frustration giving way to fierce resolve.

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  “I won’t remain weak,” he whispered to himself.

  He would carve his own path, with or without magic.

  The next morning, the soft chirping of birds filled the crisp morning air. The sun had barely begun to rise, casting golden hues over the quiet landscape.

  “I wonder if Luan is alright… He looked so frustrated yesterday,” Maris, Luan’s mother, thought to herself as she stepped out of the house, a bundle of clothes in her arms. She made her way to the small creek that ran beside their home, preparing to wash the laundry.

  That was when she saw him.

  “…Forty-five… ugh… forty-six… f-fourty… s-seven—”

  THUD.

  Luan collapsed to the ground, his breathing heavy, his arms trembling from exhaustion.

  Maris’s eyes widened in alarm. “Oh my gosh, Luan! What are you doing so early in the morning?” she exclaimed, rushing toward him, concern etched across her face.

  “I’m training, Mom,” he replied, his voice strained but resolute.

  “But Luan, it’s so early! And you haven’t even eaten yet!”

  “I’ll eat after, Mom.” Gritting his teeth, Luan pushed himself back into position, his arms quivering. “…Forty-eight…” he muttered, resuming his push-ups.

  Maris knelt beside him, her heart aching at the sight of her son pushing himself to the brink of collapse. “Luan, no! Stop this! Your arms are already shaking. You’re overdoing it! You’ll hurt yourself. Please, come inside. Let me prepare you breakfast.”

  Luan looked up at his mother, his breath ragged. He hesitated, then sighed.

  “…Forty-nine… fifty…” He pushed through his final two push-ups before slowly rising to his feet, his legs unsteady beneath him.

  As he stood, for a brief moment, he felt… something. A strange sensation rippled through his body—like the faintest flicker of mana stirring within him. It was gone before he could grasp it, but it left him frozen in place, his heartbeat quickening.

  Was that…? But before he could dwell on it, his exhaustion took over.

  “Alright… let’s go, Mom,” he finally said, allowing her to guide him inside.

  Maris glanced at her son, worry still lingering in her gaze. What has gotten into him? she thought.

  Yet, despite her concerns, she couldn’t ignore the fire of determination burning in Luan’s eyes.

  Luan opened the book again while eating.

  Aspiring knights usually ignore physical training, as using mana enhances their abilities far more than training their physical bodies. But they forget that magic is merely an amplification.

  To put it into perspective: imagine a normal person who starts training mana without any physical conditioning and reaches the level of one core. Now compare that to someone who first trains their body to the level of a one-core fighter before learning to use mana. The latter will easily overpower the former.

  For example, if the first person's combat power is 5 before using mana, and the trained warrior’s is 7, then when both reach one core and their power is amplified, the first person might reach 10, but the trained warrior will soar to 14. Thus, physical training remains crucial.

  Of course, if someone possesses innate talent in handling mana, they will always outperform you, no matter how much you train. That’s just how the world works.

  “Talent again…” Luan thought, his fingers tightening on the book’s worn pages. The wall of talent… Is it really impossible to climb?

  This book—he had found it in an old store, collecting dust on a forgotten shelf. The store manager had dismissed it, saying it was outdated and that more proficient books were available now.

  But this book contained exactly what he needed—the method to train his body.

  “Mom, I’ll be upstairs,” Luan said as he finished his meal. Without waiting for a response, he carried the book upstairs, his mind ablaze with new resolve.

  “Two months… Within two months, I will reach the level of one core… No matter what.”