Strongest Existence Becomes Teacher
Chapter 10: The Second Surge

Chapter 10: The Second Surge

The moment the mana entered his being, something shifted. Again.

Not violently. Not dramatically. But subtly.

His evolution was subtle this time—no tremors, no grand eruption of force. But it was a change nonetheless. The once formless blur of energy began to shift, take shape.

Hair, if it could be called that, now crowned his head—streaming like strands of bluish-white flame, flickering softly with motionless wind. His face, once blank, now held the faint impressions of human features. Hollow eyes glowed with a pale, electric light, and the faint outline of a nose and mouth slowly emerged. Still faceless. Still not human. But closer. More defined.

He blinked. This time, it wasn’t a guess or an illusion. He actually blinked.

He raised his hand, translucent and glowing, flexing ethereal fingers that finally began to feel like his own. He wasn’t sure what he was becoming. But it was... progress.

His voice, still unspoken but clear in presence, echoed within the chamber.

"So... using powers evolves the soul and mind too."

He looked around the island.

Nothing major had changed this time. The skies remained a static calm. The buildings and terrain stood as they were. Only a faint expansion at the furthest edges of the island marked this small progression. A ripple in the dark veil that enclosed his personal reality.

And yet—there was something new.

A presence in the air. Something subtle. Mana.

It wasn’t just within him anymore. It lingered in the wind, curled at the base of trees, shimmered faintly above the soil.

The island itself had begun to generate mana. As if his evolution had seeded it, and now the very land breathed with faint, raw energy.

"Minimal island growth," he noted. "Seems power grants less influence over space than creation. But... mana? That’s new."

His gaze returned to his hands. Mana still glowed faintly within him, gently flowing. The excitement returned.

"Computer," he said, voice calm but focused, "deploy a durable practice target—combat grade."

[Affirmative. Commencing target preparation.]

From the far side of the hall, a metal platform slid open, revealing a reinforced humanoid dummy. Its armor shimmered faintly, designed to withstand impact and elemental force.

He stepped forward.

Mana swirled inside him.

He extended his hand.

"Ignite."

Nothing.

He tried again. A fireball, a wind blade, a lightning spark—every kind of magic he had read, watched, or imagined.

Still, nothing.

He ran through every kind of magic he’d read about—fantasy novels, manga, games, comics. He recalled ancient chants, hand signs, visualizations. Magic circles etched in the air, runes traced by will, gestures of power.

He attempted them all.

Dozens of spells. Hundreds of different magic systems.

Nothing responded.

"Why isn’t it working...?"

And then—an idea struck.

He dropped the pretense. No chant. No circle. Just raw, formless mana.

He focused.

A pulse of energy shot forward—clean, invisible, condensed.

It struck the dummy square in the chest, leaving a small scorch and sending it rocking back.

His eyes lit up.

So this worked.

Not magic.

Mana.

Raw and unrefined.

"I see... I can’t use traditional magic because I don’t have a real physical body yet," he muttered. "My structure can generate and release energy, but not shape it the way a human body and soul normally would."

His body was still an evolving form of dense energy. No nerves, no blood, no muscles. Just pure consciousness and soul-force. That explained the limitations.

Which meant magic—at least the kind he knew—was out of reach for now.

He crossed his arms.

"Then I’ll move on."

There were other energies.

Other paths.

And he would learn them all.

He took a moment to process it all.

Magic was out. At least for now.

But energy wasn’t.

There were others.

"Aura," he whispered to himself, his glowing eyes narrowing in thought.

In many stories—especially the ones about martial heroes and warrior worlds—aura was often described as the mana energy used by physical fighters. Sometimes it was called battle intent, spirit energy, life force, even willpower. But that wasn’t what he was aiming for.

What he was trying to create... was something else.

Something different.

Not just mana flowing through muscles. Not borrowed strength or elemental casting. But a raw extension of the self—will made manifest. It existed in more than one story, more than one universe. A force wrapped around the user like a second skin, drawn directly from their essence.

He sat cross-legged again, this time in silence.

Eyes closed. Focus locked.

He pushed aside the lingering mana in his form—not rejecting it, but letting it rest. He wasn’t trying to cast anything. Not trying to shape external energy. He was looking inward.

Searching.

What is aura?

His thoughts drifted, slicing through layers of understanding.

Unlike mana, aura didn’t pool in a single core. It wasn’t a reservoir.

It was a field. A pressure. A presence.

He envisioned it. His energy body as a glowing core—not one that gathered power, but one that radiated it. Like a star.

And slowly... it responded.

A faint ripple flickered across his form. Then another.

White-blue energy began pulsing around him, wrapping him in a soft, steady haze. Unlike the wild particle swirls of mana, this was smoother—more cohesive. Denser. It didn’t move outward. It clung to him.

He opened his eyes.

The glow wasn’t just within now. It was surrounding him. His body, still ethereal, now radiated a visible shell of energy.

Aura.

He stood slowly, watching the way the energy followed his movement.

If mana lived in a core, like a heart pumping power...

Then aura was different.

Aura was the body.

It wrapped around him, clung to his limbs, pulsed softly across his arms and shoulders. It responded to intent more than thought—shifting subtly with emotion and movement.

His gaze sharpened.

"So this is what it means to have Aura."

He clenched his fist, and the energy around it thickened, hardened like a sheath of power.

It wasn’t violent. It wasn’t bright. But it felt real. Like a warning to reality itself.