The First Letter (71)

It was a strange sensation. The rampaging mana flowed through my veins like a wild beast. My head was spinning, and my vision was blurred. My left arm hung in tatters.

A torrent of mana poured through my veins, forcibly widening them. Had this much mana truly been sleeping within my body? The violent flow of mana scraped along my imaginary blood vessels as it passed.

It hurt. The pounding of my heart seemed to reverberate through my brain. Every sensation throughout my body had grown sharper. And the sharper they became, the more vividly I felt the pain.

My body was a wreck. My breathing grew more labored. Haaah—the oxygen I desperately sucked in expanded my lungs until they felt taut. Only then did my mind begin to clear.

Where was I? Right, this was the forest south of the academy. The site of the Hunting Festival.

My eyes turned toward the man shaking me awake. It was Senior Fermin. My hearing was gradually returning.

“Junior, Junior! You need to wake up!”

The man’s gaunt, hollow-cheeked face stared down at me with worried eyes. He certainly looked like a devout monk.

Of course, not all clergy were kind. Even so, those with deep faith were more likely to lead diligent lives in accordance with their doctrine.

That was precisely why people with such profound faith could walk the path of a monk. From childhood, they poured hot sand over their bodies to toughen their skin like iron plates, then layered divine power over it, forging the body itself into a weapon...