Exhaustion clung heavily to my body, but my mind was wide awake.
Sleep didn't come.
Back on Earth, I had always had this strange little trait.
If I could even call it that.
There was a voice in my head that always came when I wasn't productive.
Whenever I lie around too long doing nothing.
Like when I was lying in bed and binge-watched an entire series on Netflix.
That's when it would come.
Saying things like.
'You are a loser.'
'Look at you getting fat and doing nothing.'
'If you don't go to the gym, you're not a man.'
It would come only for a moment, but that was enough to make me feel inferior.
Most of the time, I would sigh, grab my bag, and head to the gym for a quick workout.
And right now—
It was the same.
But not a voice.
A feeling.
Like a burning desire to do something.
So I did what I always did.
Sigh.
I sat up slowly and moved to the edge of the bed.
Mana flowed from the core in my chest into my shoulder, down my arm, and into my fingers.
Then the other arm.
Then from my stomach into my legs and feet.
I enhanced my limbs, one by one.
Enhancing my entire body felt easier now than when I did it for the first time.
Even more so when I wasn't moving.
I could focus completely on the mana.
It was strange how fast I grew familiar with the process and adapted to this surreal force.
But that stemmed likely from desperation.
People who were pushed to their limits, with no other way out, could learn faster.
I held the enhancement for a moment, basking in the feeling of strength surging through my body, before I started to add various movements.
Clenching my fists.
Curling my toes.
Flexing my muscles.
Small movements.
When the mana dispersed, I started again.
I had never received lessons on mana control.
No teacher.
No scripture.
Nothing.
I had to learn everything by myself.
The closest thing I had to instructions was anime from Earth.
It was strange how close their imagination came to the real thing.
Using mana itself wasn't difficult.
But its effects were still a mystery to me.
Though after repetitive training, I had discovered a few things.
For example, I could guide more mana into specific muscles of my arm if I focused. Enhancing individual muscles, like my triceps.
It wasn't useful in battle, but while standing still, I could direct it with precision.
There were also some interesting facts about mana itself.
First—
I could feel mana.
There was a small wave of mana around the teens who had awakened.
The moment they enhanced their limbs is when that wave would shift.
This didn't only apply to the teens.
Guards as well gave off a similar feeling, but there was a difference.
I felt almost nothing from the guards.
They had clearly awakened and were far stronger than me, but I couldn't feel their mana.
This sense wasn't there right from the start, but had appeared the more I trained with mana.
It seemed like I had to be at least able to feel my own mana in order to feel the mana of others.
That sense also didn't apply only to people.
Places as well.
I could partially feel the mana in the air.
This narrow cell, packed with exhausted teens, didn't have a lot of mana in the air. The arena during my fights felt the same.
But early in the morning—when I trained alone—the arena felt different.
I felt like the faint mana that pulsed through the air was denser at those times.
To explain the feeling, it would be like climbing a mountain.
The higher you climb, the less oxygen is in the air and the harder it becomes to breathe.
It was the same with mana, only that the denser it becomes in the air, the easier you could breathe.
The difference between the empty arena and one filled with the crowd was still small and barely perceptible, but it was there.
Now comes the strange part.
I could sense mana from people and in the air, but I couldn't see it.
It wasn't like in those anime where some kind of wave traveled through the air.
No color.
No wave.
Nothing.
I could only feel it.
Just like you would feel a breeze but not see it.
The second thing I noticed was about mana usage.
Simply explained—
Mana consumption depended on movement.
When I enhanced my arm and punched, the mana drained faster than when I simply upheld the enhancement.
It was similar to muscles.
If I punched the air, I would drain more of my stamina than when I just flexed my muscles.
Both drained me, but not on the same level.
I could probably enhance my body for an unlimited amount of time if I didn't move.
And lastly—
Mana recovered through breathing.
This information gave me another clue as to why the mana in the arena felt less during the battles.
If I used up all my mana, I would experience some side effects from mana drainage, like a headache or lethargy in my whole body.
The effects weren't strong as I had never used all of my mana, but a complete drain would likely result in something like mana exhaustion.
It would be good to find out what the symptoms of mana exhaustion were, but I didn't dare to try with all the fights happening around me.
I noticed that after I used mana, I would slowly, with every breath, absorb mana and refill my core again.
This didn't happen because I willed it, but felt more like natural mana regeneration ingrained into me.
Another thing I noticed about mana usage was that the more I used it to enhance my muscles, the smoother it flowed.
At first, guiding it felt like pushing water through a clogged pipe.
Now—
It was easier.
As if these pipes were cleaned and expanded.
I continued my training while lost in thought.
Until a group of teens appeared.
I didn't stop because of their arrival but because of what they said.
"They stopped the training earlier than yesterday."
I kept my gaze on my hands as I listened.
"That means the duels will start soon."
"I hope my opponent is weak."
It was important information.
The duels would begin soon.
There was only about half of my mana left after training.
It was time to rest.
I stopped the training and lay down.
I knew I wouldn't fall asleep.
But I closed my eyes anyway.
Rest.
Even a little was helpful.
***
"29!"
My eyes snapped open as I heard my number.
A guard stood at the door, watching us.
His head shifted toward me as I moved, climbing down the bed.
I stretched my legs once, shaking off the sleepiness, before walking toward him.
He stared at me for a moment as I stood before him.
Step.
Without a word, he turned and walked down the corridor.
There was no need to speak when we all knew what would happen next.
I just followed him.
Step.
As we walked, my thoughts drifted.
Another nightmare.
Today's wasn't like the one with 35.
It wasn't filled with rage or accusation.
But that didn't make it better.
It was about Alissa.
There was no blood.
No screaming.
No battle.
We just sat in the cell.
She told me about her hometown again.
About the fields.
About the cows.
About her family.
How she couldn't wait to see her younger sibling grow up.
She smiled while she spoke.
She always did.
Her smile was soft, warm.
And I sat there listening.
While I already knew.
That her father had sold her.
That she would never see her younger sibling.
That she was dead.
The dream she told me about—
Becoming a singer.
It would never happen.
That was the nightmare.
There was no violence.
No insults.
No guilt.
But it weighed me even more down.
I could adapt to pain.
I could adapt to hatred.
But not to that quiet, suffocating sadness.
Step.
The corridor ended, and we stopped before the metal gate.
There was no other teen here—only the guard and me.
Then—
Step.
Footsteps echoed down the corridor.
A teen approached with slow steps.
My gaze traveled to the number stitched across his chest.
Number 36.
He halted beside me.
The guards stepped back as we waited for the gate to open.
Soon—
Screech.
The metal scratched against the hard stone floor as the gate opened wide.
Step.
I walked forward, blinking as my eyes adjusted to the bright light.
Step.
The noise of the crowd grew louder with each step.
Step.
When my vision cleared, I headed straight for the weapon rack.
My eyes drifted from weapon to weapon until they settled on a short sword.
I wrapped my fingers around the hilt before I pulled it out.
Shing.
Step.
I let the sword hang at my side as I walked toward the center of the arena.
Step.
The sand felt natural beneath my bare feet now.
I liked it even more than when I had my boots.
It felt like my balance was better barefoot, and I could move faster.
Step.
When I reached the center, I glanced toward the podium.
John already stood there in his red suit and white mask, waiting to begin.
Step.
My head turned to the side as footsteps rang.
36 stood opposite me.
And then I noticed—
He wasn't holding a sword.
But a spear.
My eyes narrowed as I turned fully toward him.
This....
This will be difficult.
My stomach twisted.
A sword fight was already difficult.
But against a spear?
He had the reach and could control distance as he wished.
And if he knew how to use it—
'I am fucked.'