Corrin threw open the front door of Eldress Jolaine’s home, looking out over the streets of Titan’s Pass. It had snowed the night before, leaving a dusting of snow on every roof, and though the streets had been shoveled by the time he awoke, piles still clumped along the edges of buildings.

  He took in a breath, feeling the cold air tickle his nose, and he pulled his hood up over his ears.

  “Are you going to stand there all day and let all the heat out?” Jolaine complained from behind him.

  Corrin turned and looked at the old woman awkwardly. Her greyed hair was done up and she had on a pair of glasses—apparently she was taking the day off from selling masks, enjoying the morning with a steaming cup of tea and a book by the fire.

  “Ah I’m sorry ma’am I was—”

  She glared at him, and he felt that continuing to speak was probably a mistake.

  “I’ll be going then,” he waved. “Be back tonight!”

  He stepped out into the cold, letting the door close behind him. He stuck his hands in the pockets of his coat, feeling the full coin pouch that resided there, and his mission began anew.

  Further in, Titan’s Pass opened up into plazas that dotted flat areas on the mountainside. Upon arrival, Corrin had noticed that the plazas were ringed by various vendors selling all sorts of things. Some, like Miss Jolaine, sold trinkets—masks, charms, and incense meant to gain the favor of the spirits. But he had no interest in those. He had Wyn, which he figured was better than any mask, for all Eia seemed to dislike him.

  No, the carts and stalls Corrin had interest in were of a different type—they sold food.

  He came to one of the plaza’s—a red-bricked square which he’d determined to be the most likely candidate. This plaza in particular seemed almost entirely dedicated to food, with virtually no other shops present. In and around the plaza were dozens of the stalls, each offering different cuisines. He’d tried over ten of them the past few days, but he hadn’t yet found what he was looking for.

  So, with a deep breath—the fresh mountain air warm with the scent of cooking food—it began.

  At this time in the morning the plaza was mostly empty, so he ate while chatting with the cooks. It didn’t take him long to eat, but by the time he left to train, people had flooded the stalls.

  He walked out the edge of the city, towards the western wall where they’d come in. Wyn liked to train away from the noise, and Corrin could see him sitting atop an outcrop in the distance where the snow had melted—his footsteps leaving town were still visible in the snow.

  Boots crunching through the snow, Corrin approached, and Wyn’s eyes opened as he drew close.

  “You’re early today.”

  Corrin shrugged. “How’s it going?”

  “I’ve finished the major channels in my legs for the most part.” Wyn stretched his neck. “And I have to say, you weren’t kidding. The difference is incredible.”

  Corrin chuckled, remembering the sluggish movement of mana before he had his own channels. “Isn’t it?”

  “I’ll pull up from my legs and it’ll shoot up them, but the second it reaches my waist it’s like it just clumps up. Makes for a strange feeling.”

  “Well, I can’t relate there,” Corrin said. “I kinda skipped that part.”

  “We can’t all have an ancient demon make our channels for us Corrin.” Wyn rolled his eyes.

  “All I’m hearing are excuses.”

  Wyn snorted. “Yeah yeah. Then I’d better not hear any when I kick your ass.”

  Corrin held out his waster. “The gap closes my friend. I’m only down… what? Twenty two now?”

  “Twenty three.”

  Corrin paused, recounting. “Ah, yeah that’s right. But it’ll be twenty two in about five minutes.”

  The spar was brief, though with Wyn’s legs channels fully developed, it was closer than it had been in recent memory, even after Corrin started going all-out. It was only the first of almost two dozen spars they fought over the next couple hours, mixed in with footwork and forms, though only the first one counted towards the record. The rest were explicitly for training.

  By the time they were done, having stripped down to their tunics despite the cold, Corrin was starving once again, and they called it for the time being. The run back into the heart of the city took only minutes, even in the snow as they pooled mana in their legs. When they reached the plaza, neither was even winded.

  Corrin slowed abruptly enough that a nearby girl yelped as he came around the corner, Wyn only a step behind as they transitioned into a walk.

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  “The way we move is different,” Corrin noted. “Did you notice that?”

  Wyn thought for a moment, then nodded. “You’re a bit more direct, right?”

  “Explosive is the word I was thinking of. I feel like you have a bit more control. Remember that rock we passed on the way? I had to jump over it.”

  “You couldn’t go around? Where are we eating by the way?”

  “I mean probably, but I would’ve shot off to the side. I wouldn’t be able to just curve around it like you did.” He pointed towards a nearby stall. “Oh and uh, get whatever looks good over there. I’ll try this one right here.”

  They split up and got food from the stalls. A few minutes later, they met on a bench and ate while they talked.

  “So small adjustments are tough then?” Wyn asked.

  Corrin nodded, taking a bite of the ‘wrap’ as the shopkeeper had called it. “Exactly. It’s great for big movements, but I think even with less mana, you’re probably more nimble than I am.”

  “Ash versus pure huh?” Wyn dipped his spoon into the soup.

  “Seems that way. Here, let me get a bite.”

  Wyn traded the bowl for the wrap and they tried each other's food. “Ooh that’s not bad at all,” Wyn hummed happily.

  Corrin tried the soup, rich in flavor with just a bit of spice. He looked at Wyn. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

  Wyn thought for a second. “Yeah.”

  “Cool.”

  And just like that, the trade was made. They sat and ate, chatting for a bit.

  “Well? Is it what you’re looking for?” Wyn asked between bites.

  “I don’t think so,” Corrin shook his head. “It’s damn good, but something just isn’t clicking, you know?”

  “I don’t know actually. This wrap is fantastic.” Wyn bit down on the last of the food, licking his fingers clean. After chewing for a bit, he swallowed and held out a fist. “Alright, I'm going to take care of business. See you for dinner?”

  Corrin fist bumped him back. “Nah, I’m gonna look some more after training my mantle. But I’ll be back before it gets too late.”

  “Cool cool, I’ll see you then.”

  With that, it was back to training. Corrin headed back out of town, hands in the pockets of his coat as he walked the streets following the river. Though he wasn’t yet to his location, his work had already begun.

  Breathe in, breathe out.

  He needed a lot of mana for what he was attempting to do, and though his reserves had increased, this exercise was still draining. He slowly took in mana, increasing his reserves with each breath in, before exhaling into his mantle. Little by little, he let out more and more.

  Condensing a small amount of mana along the edge of his blade had proven effective, but he’d seen Tor fight, or even Emryn. Their mantles could cover their entire bodies, and even Ayden and Reiss could harness more mana than he could. If he wanted to learn more techniques, or gain more power, he needed to work out his muscles.

  Metaphorically.

  “Two months to burn right?” Corrin muttered. His boots came to a stop in the snow just outside town. He didn’t care for silence like Wyn did, but he also didn’t want to freak anyone out swinging a sword around in the city—even if just a wooden one.

  He set his feet, taking in a deep breath, full of mana. He brought his sword up above his head. He exhaled sharply, sending mana streaming out into his mantle. His foot stepped forward, crunching in the snow. His sword flashed downwards, a fine line of ash honing the edge of the blade.

  “One.”

  Corrin reset his position. He focused on his mana, feeling its flow. He gathered more within him, then let it flow out to replace that which leaked from his mantle. Then he began again.

  “Two.”

  And again.

  “Three.”

  Each strike was intentional, but even still, they were routine. As he swung, his mind wandered to his mana.

  He’d begun to think of his body like a cup, one filled with aura and mana instead of water. He could pour the cup out, but it would never truly empty if he did. The only way to empty the cup was to drink it. In his case, that meant exhausting himself until no aura remained. Once the cup was empty, he could fill it up in two ways.

  The first way was to let it refill on its own. If he waited long enough, the aura in his body would naturally replenish itself, though it took time. From almost completely empty, as he’d been after the fight with the colossus, it took around a day, including sleep. What was interesting to him, was that no matter how long he waited, the cup would never top itself off. No, his aura would only ever fill the cup to a little under halfway. The only way to fill it from there was with channeling.

  Channeling. He considered it to be filling the cup with water from another source. With his aura at max and his cup entirely filled up, mana made up a slim majority of his total power, and it could be replenished much faster than his aura could. The rate seemed to change with the location—some areas were more mana dense than others—but in general it was faster. Over time, channeling seemed to cause a strain on his body, but other than that, the only limits on his power were the size of his cup, and the rate at which he could fill it.

  Of course, while that was his limit on gaining power, his limit in using it was an entirely different matter. That was why he needed this training. He needed to be able to harness more mana in each strike, to hold more mana in and out of his body, to let out more with each breath.

  The swings were context. His mantling was everything.

  Corrin’s sword snapped through the air, one last swing.

  “One… thousand…” He panted, gasping for breath as sweat dripped from his forehead.

  The swings weren’t particularly demanding, and usually he could knock out a thousand swings in about twenty minutes, but with mantling, it had taken far, far longer, and left him drained. Holding so much mana, replenishing his reserves over and over—it was taxing both physically and mentally. Even besides his body, his channels burned, stressed with the burden of handling so much mana for so long.

  As his vision cleared, he noticed two things. First, was that the sun had gotten much lower. He must have been at it for hours, though he’d lost track of time.

  Secondly, it seemed like the snow around him had melted. At some point without realizing, he’d started standing on the dead grass beneath. The oddly shaped patch of grass stretched no more than two feet from the center in any direction, but it was odd nonetheless.

  Did I do that? He wondered. I must have, right?

  After patting his feet around for a bit, just to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating, he decided it must have been an effect of his mana… somehow? And with that mystery settled to his satisfaction, he headed back to the city to eat.