Ruho headed straight for the kitchen, his stomach growling so loudly it echoed off the stone walls. The smell hit him before he even reached the torture-furnace—rich, savory, meat smell that made his mouth water instantly. He grabbed the iron handle with his cargo pants fabric again and pulled the door open.
Heat blasted his face. Inside, the crocodile meat had transformed. What had been raw, bloody chunks twelve hours ago now looked like... brisket? Dark, caramelized edges, rendered fat glistening on the surface, the meat compressed and dense from the low-and-slow cooking.
"Is this... is this ready?" Ruho asked hopefully, reaching for a piece.
"Don't touch it yet," Azirel warned. "Brisket takes twelve hours minimum. You're at twelve hours now, but it needs to rest. Another hour at least."
"TWELVE HOURS?!" Ruho's voice cracked. "You're telling me I have to wait ANOTHER HOUR?! I'm starving! I haven't eaten anything except one raw egg and a bite of raw venison in like three days!"
"Too bad," Azirel said unsympathetically. "If you pull it out now and cut into it, all the juices will run out and it'll be dry. You want shoe leather? Because that's how you get shoe leather. Let it rest."
Ruho groaned, a sound of pure despair that came from somewhere deep in his soul. He closed the furnace door and slumped against the wall. "What am I supposed to do for an hour? I've already explored the castle. I've already tested my abilities. I'm bored and hungry and I hate everything."
"You could practice mana refining," Azirel suggested.
"Mana what now?"
"Mana refining," Azirel repeated. "It's like... human photosynthesis, basically."
Ruho blinked. "Huh?"
"Okay, let me explain," Azirel said, slipping into lecture mode. "Mana exists in your cells, right? All throughout your body. When you use a spell or ability, you're depleting that cellular mana. Normally, your body regenerates it passively just through existing and doing mitosis, cell division creates new cells with fresh mana. But that's slow. Takes about twenty-four hours to fully regenerate from zero to max."
"Okay..." Ruho was following so far.
"But you can speed it up," Azirel continued. "Through meditation and mana refining. Instead of just relying on mitosis, you actively absorb ambient mana from your surroundings. Plants do it with sunlight—photosynthesis. You do it with... well, everything. Air, sunlight, the ground, even the stone in your castle. Everything has trace amounts of mana you can pull into your cells and refine into usable energy."
"So I meditate and absorb mana faster," Ruho summarized. "Like charging a battery."
"Exactly!" Azirel sounded pleased. "You could probably cut your regeneration time in half if you do it right. Maybe get back fifty or sixty mana points in an hour instead of the eight or nine you'd get passively."
"I don't wanna," Ruho said immediately.
"Too bad," Azirel shot back. "You used thirty mana testing your abilities. You're at 170 out of 200. You need to get that back up before pirates arrive. So sit your ass down and meditate."
Ruho groaned again but trudged over to a relatively clean spot in the entrance hall. He sat down cross-legged on the cold stone floor, his bare back against the wall, and tried to remember how people meditated in movies.
"Okay," he said, closing his eyes. "Here goes. Oooooooom... Oooooooom... Oooo—"
"STOP TALKING!" Azirel's voice cut through.
Ruho's eyes snapped open. "What? I'm meditating! This is how people meditate! They say 'om' over and over!"
"You don't need to say it OUT LOUD," Azirel explained, sounding exasperated. "The 'om' is internal. A mental focus point. You're not supposed to actually vocalize it."
"But in all the movies—"
"Movies are wrong. Or they're showing group meditation where everyone vocalizes together for synchronization. Solo meditation is SILENT. Close your mouth and focus internally."
Ruho sighed but closed his eyes again and shut his mouth.
His mind immediately started wandering. He tried to focus on the sensation of breathing, on the feeling of mana in his cells, but his brain had other ideas.
It's the final countdown! Doo doo doo doo, doo doo doo doo doo, doo doo doo doo, doo doo doo doo doo doo—
"NO HUMMING!" Azirel shouted.
Ruho's eyes shot open again. "I wasn't humming out loud! That was in my HEAD!"
"You were humming under your breath! I could hear it!"
"Fine! FINE!" Ruho closed his eyes again, jaw clenched.
He tried to clear his mind completely. No sounds. No humming. Just silence and focus.
When you're walking down the street, and everybody that you meet, has an original point of view—
"NO THINKING SONGS EITHER!" Azirel yelled.
"WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!" Ruho screamed back, his eyes flying open as he jumped to his feet. "I CAN'T CONTROL WHAT SONGS POP INTO MY HEAD! MY BRAIN JUST DOES THAT!"
"THEN LEARN TO SHUT IT UP!" Azirel yelled back. "That's what meditation IS! Quieting your mind! Not filling it with Europe's greatest hits and Sesame Street theme songs!"
"IT WAS NOT SESAME STREET!" Ruho protested. "It was—wait, how do you even know what Sesame Street is?!"
"I process souls from Earth! I know Earth culture! And I know you're using songs as a distraction from actually having to sit with your own thoughts, which is the entire POINT of meditation!"
Ruho slumped back down against the wall, feeling called out. "I don't like sitting with my own thoughts. My thoughts suck."
"Yeah, well, welcome to being human," Azirel said, his voice softening slightly. "Everyone's thoughts suck. That's why meditation is hard. But it's also why it's useful. You need to learn to quiet the noise and just... be. Focus on the sensation of mana in your cells. Feel it moving. Circulating. Regenerating."
Ruho closed his eyes again, took a deep breath, and tried one more time.
He focused on his body. On the feeling of his heartbeat, slow and steady. On his breathing, in and out. On the weird tingling sensation that he now realized might be mana flowing through his cells.
His brain tried to start singing again—something about never gonna give you up—but he pushed it away. Not violently, just... gently setting it aside. Acknowledging the thought and letting it drift away like a cloud.
Another song tried to start—something from an anime opening he'd watched too many times—and he did the same thing. Acknowledged it. Let it go.
Slowly, gradually, the mental noise started to quiet.
And underneath it, he could feel something. A warmth in his chest, spreading through his limbs. Not physical warmth, but something else. Energy. Mana. Flowing from his surroundings—the air, the stone, the sunlight streaming through the windows—into his body. Into his cells.
It was working.
He sat there in silence, actually meditating for the first time in his life, and felt his mana slowly regenerating.
Outside, pirates were setting up camp.
Inside, Ruho was learning to sit with his own thoughts and not go insane.
It was progress. Small progress. But progress nonetheless.