Chapter 36 – Aric
The following day, Aric's body still ached from the strain of weaving. His mana core pulsed sluggishly, like a wounded muscle. But he refused to waste time. The forbidden knowledge had opened his eyes, and once the veil was lifted, he couldn't pretend to be blind again.
He left the safehouse at dawn, taking the narrow path into the nearby forest. Birds sang overhead, yet their songs carried an odd stillness—as though the forest itself listened. Aric paused often, trying to sense the strands he had glimpsed yesterday.
At first, nothing. Then, as he quieted his breathing and let the world wash over him, he noticed something subtle.
The mana wasn't still. It wasn't free. It was bleeding.
He froze. It was faint, almost imperceptible, like a steady drip of water in a cavern. The forest's natural mana was flowing—not toward the plants or beasts, but upward, toward the heavens.
Aric narrowed his eyes. "The system is stealing it… here, too."
He crouched low, pressing his palm to the ground. The soil felt warm, vibrant. Life pulsed beneath his fingers. But above, he sensed that same invisible pull, threads being dragged away as if by unseen leeches.
Following the current, Aric moved deeper into the forest. The sensation grew stronger. Mana wasn't just being pulled in one place—it was happening everywhere. Like rivers siphoned into a greater ocean.
Finally, he reached a small clearing. The air here shimmered faintly, almost like heat haze. When he focused, he could see them: strands of light so faint they were nearly invisible, drifting upward like smoke.
His stomach knotted.
All this time… the world has been bled dry, and no one notices.
The thought unsettled him more than the forbidden texts had. He remembered his father's lessons about mortals struggling to advance, their growth stunted, their lifespans shortened. Now he understood why. It wasn't weakness. It was theft.
Aric clenched his fists. "And they call this balance?"
The haze pulsed suddenly, and he felt a sharp tug on his own core. His breath hitched. The system was trying to pull him, siphoning his mana directly.
Instinct screamed at him to fight it. He remembered the threads, the weave. Forcing himself to focus, he reached out—not to push mana, but to grip it.
Threads appeared faintly at his fingertips. He latched onto them desperately, weaving them against the pull. Sweat poured down his face as he fought the invisible current.
For a moment, he thought he would be ripped apart. The pull grew harsher, gnawing at his veins. His vision blurred.
But then, like snapping a rope, he severed the siphon.
The haze shattered, the strands dispersing into the air. Aric collapsed to one knee, chest heaving, the forest suddenly quiet again.
For several heartbeats, he just breathed. The pull was gone. The system had tried to drain him, and he had resisted.
A shaky laugh escaped his lips. "So it can be cut."
He stood slowly, his limbs trembling but his spirit ablaze. He wasn't just a pawn being bled by the system. He had fought back. Even if only for a moment.
As he turned to leave, the trees rustled unnaturally. Aric froze. His senses screamed—he wasn't alone.
From the shadows, faint glimmers of light formed. A small construct of mana—a watcher. Its body was little more than shifting strands, its faceless head turning toward him.
Aric's heart pounded. "So you noticed."
The watcher moved silently, its form flickering. Not an attacker, not yet—but a warning.
Aric's jaw tightened. He didn't flinch. "Go back to your master. Tell them I'm not theirs to drain."
The watcher lingered a moment longer, then dissolved into sparks.
Aric let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. The system had seen him. From now on, he wouldn't just be resisting quietly. He was marked.
And strangely… that thought didn't scare him. It made him burn brighter.