The Devouring Knight
Chapter 128 - 127: Between Mana and Muscle

Chapter 128: Chapter 127: Between Mana and Muscle

Early Morning - Training Grounds

The sky was still bathed in pale morning light when the soldiers assembled in the open clearing, a sacred hour before the day’s demands pulled them apart. The remaining captains sat cross-legged across the field, eyes closed, backs straight, immersed in silence.

Lumberling sat among them, hands resting atop his knees, practicing Imperial Mindseal Meditation.

His breath was slow, controlled. His thoughts emptied like sand slipping through his fingers. Within his inner space, a lattice of invisible threads shifted, reorganizing his emotions, memories, and instincts, each sealed into their proper place. The technique sharpened his will like a blade, anchoring his self beneath layers of discipline.

Then.

The wind carried footsteps.

Soft leather. Elven stride.

The tranquil atmosphere stirred like a still pond broken by a stone.

Lumberling’s eyes slid open, calm as ever. Ahead, a group of elves approached gracefully, their white and gold robes fluttering in rhythm with the breeze.

Leading them was Vaenyra, flanked by Aurelya and Thessalia, their expressions curious yet composed. The mages carried themselves like statues in motion, poised, precise, proud.

Lumberling raised an eyebrow.

"Here to join us?" he asked, his voice low and even.

Vaenyra nodded, strands of blue hair catching the sunlight. "The technique you taught Aurelya... something you call meditation. It’s useful. We mages find it excellent for clearing the mind."

Thessalia folded her arms, her sharp green eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "That technique. Your ’electricity.’ Your strange knowledge. I wonder... where did you all learn these things?"

Her tone was probing, sharp as a dissecting scalpel.

But Lumberling only gave them a slow, unreadable smile.

Then closed his eyes again without a word.

Seeing that no answer would come, the elves exchanged glances, then silently seated themselves on the grass nearby. Vaenyra chose a spot close enough. Aurelya followed, and Thessalia settled slightly apart, adjusting the hem of her robe before composing her posture.

Not far away, behind a tree.

The captains crouched in the shade, whispering amongst themselves.

Gobo2 elbowed Grokk with a toothy grin. "Hehe... looks like it won’t just be boss meditatin’ with the beauties no more."

Grokk grunted, unimpressed. "Tch. Can they swing an axe?"

Shade, the Abyssal Webcaller, twitched a leg.

Aren snorted from nearby. "You lot better meditate, or you’ll end up cleaning latrines."

The captains laughed in hushed tones, then slowly slinked back to their formation, pretending they’d been focused all along.

.....

Back in the Clearing.

The clearing fell quiet once more. Goblin and kobolds soldiers, and elves, an unlikely assortment, now sat in shared silence.

Lumberling could feel the ambient mana shifting as the elven mages entered their trance. Their presence was like sunlight diffusing through mist, soft but penetrating. The goblins, though rough around the edges, slowly adjusted their breathing. Even Gobo2 gave it a serious go, his usual grin replaced by concentration.

Minutes passed like falling leaves.

Then, subtle, but unmistakable, a ripple in the air.

Vaenyra’s eyes fluttered open.

Aurelya stirred.

Even Thessalia’s focus cracked, and she peeked toward Lumberling with a tightened brow.

A strange pulse emanated from him, quiet yet unnatural. A foreign energy flowed beneath his skin, refined and precise, but wholly alien. It wasn’t mana. It wasn’t aura. It was... something else.

Vaenyra’s brows drew together, a flicker of alarm flashing across her usually unreadable face. Her gaze sharpened, fixated on him.

Beside her, Thessalia narrowed her eyes, lips pressing into a thin line.

Aurelya’s gaze softened. Her lips parted, as if on the verge of asking, but she stopped herself. It wasn’t proper to pry into someone’s secrets. If he hadn’t offered it freely, then asking would only be rude.

’What’s he doing this time?’ she wondered.

She sighed quietly, closed her eyes, and returned to her breath.

Still, curiosity itched at the edges of their minds like an unscratchable spot.

Lumberling, unaware, or simply ignoring them, remained perfectly still.

Beneath the surface of his thoughts, the Imperial Mindseal worked in silence, methodical, relentless, reshaping the architecture of his will. It was a technique unseen by any other, understood by none.

All the while, qi coursed steadily through his body, threading through meridians like rivers carving stone, quiet, but powerful.

.....

After the Meditation

With the morning meditation concluded, the soldiers broke their silence like clockwork. Grunts echoed across the training grounds as they began their brutal daily practice of the Bruteforge Body Cultivation Path. Some threw themselves against stone pillars with thundering cracks, others dunked into large wooden vats filled with murky, venom-laced water. A few sprinted laps under the noonday sun until their legs gave out, collapsing with ragged breaths and bleeding feet.

From a shaded perch under a tree, Aurelya watched with narrowed eyes and parted lips.

"...What in the name of the stars are they doing?" she finally asked, arms crossed. "Is this some kind of... fetish ritual?"

Lumberling smirked, folding his arms as he stood beside her. "Nah. Just a little something called training. It’s how they temper their bodies to steel. Pain is part of the process."

She blinked slowly, her gold eyes shifting to a soldier bashing his shoulder into a boulder. "It looks more like they’re trying to kill themselves."

He shrugged. "Not exactly elegant, but effective. Want to try it?"

Aurelya gave him a sharp glance. "No thanks. I prefer keeping my bones unshattered and my skin venom-free."

Her lips curled in mild disgust as another goblin screamed and dove into a barrel of fuming green liquid.

"It’s effective, though," Lumberling said, glancing at her sidelong. "You could probably take a few punches after a month of this."

"I’d rather cast a hundred spells than let myself be boiled like a frog," Aurelya muttered. "It may work for you warriors, but mages train through discipline of the mind, not... bodily masochism."

Still, part of her couldn’t help but admire the sheer will behind such training. It was primitive. Savage, even. But undeniably real.

Lumberling chuckled. "Fair. Not everyone’s cut out for it."

She eyed him briefly, then looked away. "And yet you do all of this and train your mind. Do you ever sleep?"

"Only when I collapse," he said with a grin.

Aurelya scoffed, but there was a flicker of something behind her eyes, curiosity... and maybe a hint of reluctant respect.

.....

Days of training continued.

Training Grove - Early Morning

Mist lingered over the forest clearing, softening the light that filtered through the tall pines. A breeze carried the scent of dew-drenched leaves and something faintly floral, Vaenyra’s shampoo, perhaps. She stood barefoot across from him, her blue hair tied in a braid that shimmered like moonlight, emerald eyes calm but sharp.

Lumberling exhaled slowly, grounding himself.

"Begin when you’re ready," Vaenyra said, her voice quiet but firm.

He nodded, then stepped into the stance she had drilled into him over the past days. Feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent. His left palm faced the sky, ready to gather mana. The right curled near his chest, aura already beginning to thrum.

Stillness. Then motion.

That was the cycle.

He drew in mana with his breath. Let it settle behind his heart. Then, at the precise count Vaenyra had taught him, he shifted, stepping forward, pivoting, letting aura surge through his limbs like wildfire.

"Too fast," she murmured.

He flinched, barely keeping the motion intact.

"Breathe." She stepped behind him, her hand grazing his spine. "Feel this? You’re letting your aura dominate. Let the mana settle before the next motion. Balance, not rush."

Lumberling gritted his teeth and closed his eyes.

His body ached. Not from injury, but from contradiction. Mana wanted stillness. Aura craved movement. It was like walking two different paths at once. But as he fell into rhythm, guided by her voice and subtle adjustments, something began to shift.

The transitions grew cleaner. His limbs no longer jolted between calm and chaos. There was... a pulse now. A cadence.

He stopped, panting lightly, sweat forming at his brow.

Vaenyra handed him a cloth. "Better. You didn’t collapse."

"High praise." He took the cloth, then gestured toward the grass where their waterskins waited. "Sit with me?"

She blinked, clearly not expecting the invitation, but followed without protest.

They sat beneath the shade of a birch tree. For a while, neither spoke. The silence between them was no longer uncomfortable. Lumberling broke it first.

"Can I ask you something?"

She tilted her head slightly.

"This cycle... the Concordia Cycle. What’s the end goal? Is it just about balance?" He paused. "Or is there something deeper?"

Her gaze drifted to the canopy above them. When she finally answered, her voice was low, almost reverent.

"It’s not just about training two disciplines. It’s about fusing them. Perfectly." Her emerald eyes gleamed. "Most people never reach that point. Their bodies rebel. Their minds split under the strain. But if you endure long enough... if you truly master the rhythm... you enter a state called Concordance."

"Concordance," he echoed.

"In that state..." She glanced at him as if measuring whether he could believe it. "There is no separation between your mana and your aura. They respond as one. You can move like a knight and cast like a mage simultaneously. No chanting. No focus-breaking. Just... flow."

Lumberling’s brows drew together. "You’re saying I could stab someone while casting a fire spell?"

Vaenyra gave him a rare hint of a smile. "If you live long enough to get there, yes."

He leaned back against the tree, letting her words sink in.

A Mage-Knight.

It was a path he hadn’t even considered when this journey began, when survival was all he thought about. But now, the idea burned within him. He had always straddled contradictions, his past life and this one, logic and instinct, devouring and restraint.

He looked down at his hands.

Aura and mana. Motion and stillness.

Fire and ice.

Around them, the wind stirred once more, light and even.

The rhythm of breath and will continued.