Leo grabbed a few buns for breakfast and picked up some rice with chicken for lunch and dinner. He brought it all back in a basket and set it in one corner of the room.
"Eat whenever you're hungry," he told Daphne. "I'll join you when I'm done training."
Daphne tilted her head. "What are you training for? And what exactly are you doing?"
"I'm training my mind to be still," he said simply.
"Why?"
He shook his head. "Being mentally strong is very important. It'll help you in the real world."
Daphne knew he was dodging the question, but she chose not to push it. She watched him settle back into position, cross-legged on the floor, eyes closed.
He resumed his practice.
The difference this time was that his previous sessions had all been in his dream. This was the first attempt during the day.
And it was significantly harder.
The sunlight streaming through the cracks in the shack walls nagged at him constantly. Daylight made him think about what he could be doing instead of sitting here trying to become a mage. His mind kept drifting toward money — how to earn it, how to stretch it, how to survive another week.
Eventually, he got fed up.
He'd been forcing himself to stay still for over two hours, and it wasn't working. Not even close. His thoughts scattered like startled birds every time he tried to wrangle them into silence.
The door creaked as he left the shack to drink some water and eat.
The rest of the day went by, and he failed to sense magic again.
His disappointment in himself deepened. Doubts about the authenticity of the tome started creeping in like poison. Was it even real? Had he imagined the whole thing?
He was also painfully aware that these new doubts would make future attempts even harder — a vicious cycle he couldn't seem to break. His optimism was slowly dying out, guttering like a candle in the wind.
He started seriously considering just saving up to buy the aura method from Trevor instead.
---
When he went to sleep that night, he found himself in the same dark space he'd been in the previous night.
This time, he sat down and tried to think about nothing. Keeping his mind still.
But he didn't put much effort into it.
His mind occasionally wandered, and he let it. He didn't fight it. He didn't force anything.
Somewhere deep down, he had started accepting his failure to sense magic. The desperation had faded into a dull resignation, and he'd stopped trying to make his mind do something it apparently couldn't.
---
A week passed.
He stopped spending entire days on practice. With his savings dwindling from food expenses, he started going out to find work during the day. The only time he spent on sensing magic was in the mysterious space within his dreams.
But even that time was shrinking.
And with less time came less progress. Which meant no progress at all.
He came back to the shack one evening after a long day working at the market. He'd spent hours cleaning the swords of an equipment maker — tedious, repetitive work that left his hands raw.
Five Star coins.
That was all it paid.
When he stepped through the doorway, exhaustion hit him like a wall. He slumped into the corner, letting his head fall back against the wooden slats.
Daphne was already there. She looked just as spent as he did — eyes heavy, shoulders drooping. She'd recovered from her illness a few days ago and had started going out with Leo to find work of her own. With both of them earning, they didn't have to worry about food anymore.
But the tiredness was a different kind of cost.
"Five Star coins," he said, holding up his earnings for the day.
"Same," Daphne replied.
She'd already bought food, so he sat down and started eating. The rice was cold, but he didn't care. He was too hungry to be picky.
Daphne watched him for a moment, then spoke up.
"So... what happened to your training?"
He paused. Looked down at his food.
After a full week of failure, the question stung more than it should have. His expression turned gloomy.
"Not very successful," he admitted. "My mind keeps wandering and I don't know what to do about it." He poked at his rice with his fingers. "Any suggestions?"
Daphne thought about it for a long moment, her brow furrowed in concentration.
"Have you thought about anchoring it?" she said finally.
He looked up, intrigued.
"My mind?" he asked.
"Yes. Anchoring your mind with an idea." Daphne leaned forward slightly. "If you think about one single idea and focus purely on that, your mind will be filled with that idea alone. Since you're not deviating from it, your mind could be called 'still.' It's not empty — it's just... focused on one thing."
He stared at her.
The concept clicked instantly. Like a key turning in a lock he'd been struggling with for days.
"Daphne," he said.
She blinked.
"You're a genius." A grin broke across his face — the first real one in a week. "A genius. Thank you."
He wolfed down the rest of his meal, barely chewing, his mind already racing to come up with a suitable anchor. Daphne smiled at his sudden burst of enthusiasm and went back to eating her own food at a much more civilized pace.
---
After dinner, both of them prepared for bed.
Daphne was getting ready for another day of work in the morning. But Leo?
Leo was getting ready to give sensing magic another real shot.
This was the first time he'd felt any genuine enthusiasm about it in the entire week. And the reason was simple — this time, he had a plan.
His head hit the pillow, and within moments, he was there.
The dark, empty space in his mind materialized around him. Entering this room had become easier and easier with each passing night, almost second nature now. He didn't hesitate. He sat down immediately, folding his legs beneath him into the lotus position.
Throughout the previous week, he'd experimented with different postures — standing, lying down, kneeling. The lotus sitting posture was by far the most natural for him. It let him relax without drifting off.
Now came the important part.
The anchor.
He'd picked out the perfect one — magic itself.
Since he was trying to sense magic, he reasoned that keeping his mind fixated on magic would be the best and most logical option. Let the goal become the tool.
He took a deep breath.
Closed his eyes.
And began.
He breathed in and out rhythmically, slowly, deliberately, while focusing on what he envisioned magic to be. His only real encounter with magic to date was the tome. The Arcane Emperor's tome — the moment it had chosen him.
The memory he settled on was specific: the tremor.
That deep, bone-rattling vibration that had surged through his entire body when the tome bonded with him. The emerald light. The heat in his blood. The sense that something ancient and vast had reached out and touched him.
He wasn't sure his memory could hold the experience accurately — it had been so overwhelming in the moment. But as he focused, the sensation came back to him with startling clarity. Every detail, sharp and vivid, as if it were happening all over again.
The tremor replayed in his mind.
And he held onto it.
The sensation slowly became clearer. More defined. More real.
His heart started beating faster.
Something was different.
He became more aware of his own body than he'd ever thought possible. Not just his body in the dream-space, but his actual, physical body lying on the mat in the shack. He could feel the blood rushing through his veins — every pulse, every surge. The air filling his lungs with each breath, refreshing him from the inside out.
Things he had never once noticed in his entire life were suddenly crystal clear to him.
The rhythm of his heartbeat.
The warmth of his own skin.
The faint electrical tingle along his nerves.
His breathing steadied. His mind didn't wander. The anchor held firm.
And then—
Suddenly, without warning, he felt it.
A warm sensation washed over him. Gentle, pervasive, and unmistakable — like the embrace of the morning sun on bare skin after a long, cold night.
It was everywhere.
Around him. Within him. Flowing through the very air he breathed.
His eyes snapped open.
He was no longer in the dark space.
He was no longer in the shack.
He was somewhere else entirely — a completely different world stretching out before him in every direction, vast and luminous and impossible.