"...after that you just have to repeat the cycle until the core is fully formed."
After listening to the whole process, it was clear to me that core creation was not as easy as I had initially thought.
To put it simply — you shove mana inside your body and use intent, or internal force, whatever you want to call it, to continuously compress it in the heart until it solidifies.
Its like training a muscle just you are training your body and instinct to passively do these tasks.
Simple, right?
Well... imagine this. If you lose concentration even for a minute, the process destabilizes and the compressed mana explodes inside your chest, killing you. Painfully so.
"Is that all?"
"Yes. Spells and aura techniques come after you've formed a core."
I nodded and asked, "So can I form the core here or...?"
"Nope. This is your mindspace. You have to do the process physically in the real world. And make sure no one interrupts you during it — you already know the consequences."
He yawned and waved a hand dismissively.
"Well, that's it for today. Your mental strength has grown since last time, but you have no further business here. Up, up, and away."
I stared at him incredulously.
"This is my mindspace, for your information. Also — what exactly do you do here when I'm gone?"
He yawned again, already settling back.
"Sleep. What else? I have to slowly recover my soul strength. Even without a body, sleeping helps. Now go away — it's my nap time."
I nodded absently, closed my eyes, and focused on pulling myself out. With a sharp jerk, I opened my eyes. I was sitting in the same lotus position on my bed, back in the real world.
The moment I tried to get up, I face-planted straight onto the floor.
"Argh... I forgot it's my first time sitting like this for hours."
I lay there for a second before slowly getting up, feeling the pins and needles crawling back into my legs. My back wasn't much better.
I grabbed my phone to check the time.
6:40 in the evening. I also had three missed calls from Shane and ten unread messages — also from Shane.
Oops.
Shaking my head, I called him back.
Ring... Ri—
"Hello?"
"Oh, the sleeping beauty is awake and has graced me with his presence, I see."
My mouth twitched. "Sorry man. Demon business. I was tired."
"You could've at least messaged me. Is that too much to ask? Anyway — tell me what happened. And don't even try to tell me that whole thing at the mayor's mansion wasn't your doing."
"Let's talk in person. Meet me at the hideout at midnight."
"Do you think I'm free all the time? I mean... I am... but you don't have to say it so bluntly.At least make it look like you are asking for a favor"
I gave the phone a tired look.
"I didn't even say anything!"
He snickered — I could practically see his smug face through the screen.
"Fine. I'll be there. Don't stand me up, yeah?"
Beep. Beep.
I stared at the screen for a moment.
Was it just me, or was he acting a little strange? I'd ask him later.
After a moment I decided to head downstairs and check on everyone. I found dad sitting alone on the couch, watching TV with Rex sprawled out and sleeping nearby.
"You up?" he asked without looking away from the screen.
"Yeah. Was doing some thinking, not really sleeping." He nodded.
"Mom and Clara left me here saying the are going for girls shopping so me and Rex were passing time in our lonesome but even Rex betrayed me"
I looked at the dog sleeping like he has just returned from a 9 to 5 shift.
I went and sat beside Dad. The TV murmured quietly between us for a moment before he spoke.
"Is everything okay? You look like you're holding something back."
I only shook my head. "Nothing I can't handle. And if I need help, I'll ask. So don't worry."
A beat of silence passed. He studied me for a second longer, as if trying to see past the words, but eventually just sighed.
"Hm."
He stood up slowly, rolling his shoulders.
"Come on."
"Huh?"
"Backyard. Let's move a little. You look like you need it."
I didn't argue.
We headed out and started stretching — one of the habits he'd drilled into me long before any real fight.
"You know," he started, moving through the motions, "when I was younger, whenever I had things on my mind and needed to shake off the weight, I'd spar."
I know, dad. I do the same thing — just with less sparring and more actually beating people up. Bad people, obviously.
"I haven't told you this, but I was a middleweight boxing champion in my prime. Went to a fair few underground arenas too, just to test myself." He paused. "That was before I met your mom, of course."
"After I met her, I let go of that reckless mindset. Started taking... responsibility. She brought out parts of me I didn't even know .....were there."
We started to spar. He lunged with a jab — I weaved and countered. He created distance and came at me again. Mostly I blocked or slipped his attacks while he slowly dialed up the intensity.
"Do you know the real reason I quit?" he asked between exchanges.
I shook my head, ducking between his punches.
"It was because of your mom. One time she saw me come home injured from a fight. She didn't say a word — didn't scold me, didn't lecture me. She just helped patch me up." He threw a combination. "But the look on her face... the way she was hurting quietly... that's what got me."
"Sometimes, more than the fighting, more than the drive or the adrenaline rush, you need a reason to stop. A reason to slow down and ground yourself. And I couldn't keep watching your mom carry that hurt."
He ducked under one of my punches and drove a clean shot into my gut. I reacted just fast enough to jump back and absorb most of it, but still felt it.
He straightened up, breathing harder now.
"I stopped..." ha "...fighting... and started putting more into my career. For her. And then you came along." He caught his breath. "Being a father — that was a humbling experience. It showed me I could be something more. That there could be a reason to fight beyond the rush — to actually protect someone."
He lowered his hands and looked at me.
"I'm telling you all this because I want you to understand — we all have a past. Things we're not proud of. But what you do after is what determines what kind of person you are." He held my gaze. "So if you ever feel like you've done something I couldn't forgive... believe me, I will. Not because I'm blind to it — but because I trust you. And your judgment."
I nodded slowly, the weight of his words settling over me.
That's when the backyard light switched on. Rex came bolting out the door, circling us both in excited loops, and Mom's voice cut through the night from the kitchen.
"Both of you, done? Come inside and help me, will you?!"
"Coming, honey!"
"Coming, Mom!"
We both smiled. Dad put his hand on my shoulder and we walked back inside together — me thinking quietly to myself:
I know, Dad. And I won't disappoint you.