Trafalgar woke slowly, and the first thing he registered was that he had nothing on.
'Seems I undressed myself at some point in the night,' he thought, staring up at unfamiliar rafters.
Which was ordinary enough for him. He'd slept bare for years, half out of habit and half because mana clung to skin better than it clung to cloth, and the habit had outlived the reason a long while ago. Even here, in a plain room over a common hall in a half-ruined mining town, the mana ran rich. The whole valley rested on top of that vein, and the air carried it the way sea air carries salt.
His new core drank all of it while he lay there, quiet and effortless. He could feel it working without being asked, pulling the loose mana out of the room in a slow steady draw, and the sensation ran deeper and heavier than anything the fifth had given him. Where Prime had felt like a full cup, this felt like standing at the top of a well and hearing how far down the water went.
