He breathed.
Not to live. To move.
The mana surged through him—not wild, not raging. It flowed like blood newly remembered. His body accepted it as if it had always known how. No resistance. No barriers. Just a connection that had waited for the right moment to open.
And now that it had?
He felt the difference.
First in his lungs—each breath deep and clean, no longer ragged. Then his legs—burning before, now suddenly ready. The muscles snapped into place, tension easing into power. The ache in his bones didn't vanish, but it no longer mattered.
His pulse steadied.
His vision cleared.
And when he pushed off the ground—
He launched.
The terrain blurred past, each footfall sharper, more decisive. His speed had doubled, maybe tripled, but more than that—it felt natural. He wasn't burning fuel anymore. He was being fed by it. Every motion took in mana. Every breath filtered more into his core.
