Reincarnation of the Last Magus Emperor

Elder Fergus led the group of disciples through the mountain trails, the crisp morning air filled with the scent of pine and damp earth. The lake they arrived at was serene, its glassy surface reflecting the towering peaks and the rising sun. At the center of the lake, a series of bamboo poles of varying heights were arranged in a circular formation, their tops just wide enough for a single foot to balance upon.

The disciples whispered among themselves, their excitement tinged with apprehension. The challenge was clear: balance, precision, and endurance. It was not just about surviving the mock battle but excelling in mana control under pressure.

****

Elder Fergus stepped forward, his crimson robes rippling in the breeze. He raised a hand for silence.

"Disciples," he began, his voice carrying easily across the group, "this exercise is designed to test and refine your ability to manipulate pure mana. You will balance atop these bamboo poles using mana augmentation alone. No elemental affinities—just raw, unaligned mana. You must complete three laps around the circle, representing the three circles of mana cultivated within your cores."

He gestured toward the calm water. "To make things more interesting, Deacon Arlen will stand below and launch spells at you. You must maintain your balance, avoid the attacks, and complete the laps. Fall into the water, and you will start over. Remember: this is not just about speed. It's about control, efficiency, and composure under pressure."

The disciples exchanged glances, some confident, others clearly nervous. They each took turns stepping lightly onto the bamboo poles, their mana flaring faintly around their feet as they sought to stabilize themselves. The poles swayed slightly with each movement, and a few of the disciples nearly fell before even starting.

Merlin observed quietly, noting the varying levels of skill among his peers. His reserved aura didn't go unnoticed, and a few disciples sent him sidelong glances, some curious, others dismissive.

"Let's see if the Novice can handle this," one muttered under his breath, smirking.

When it was Merlin's turn, he approached the lake calmly. As he stepped onto the first pole, he let his mana flow smoothly through his body, augmenting his balance and strengthening his core. The pole wobbled slightly beneath him, but he adjusted instantly, his movements fluid and natural.

A few disciples exchanged surprised looks. Despite his lower cultivation, Merlin's control was precise, his stance unwavering.

Elder Fergus nodded subtly. "Good. Let's begin."

Deacon Arlen, a sturdy man with a sharp gaze, stood on the surface of the lake, his mana forming faint ripples beneath his feet. Without warning, he began hurling orbs of compressed mana toward the disciples.

The first few attacks were simple—small, fast-moving projectiles designed to test their reactions. Some disciples dodged gracefully, while others stumbled, their mana faltering as they struggled to maintain their footing. One fell into the water with a loud splash, cursing as he swam back to shore.

When a mana orb came hurtling toward Merlin, he shifted his weight slightly, letting the attack pass harmlessly by. His movements were minimal, conserving energy and maintaining perfect balance. As the challenge progressed, the attacks became more complex: sweeping waves of energy, unpredictable arcs, and even bursts designed to destabilize the poles.

Merlin adapted seamlessly, his focus unshaken. Instead of reacting to each attack individually, he anticipated Deacon Arlen's patterns, moving with an almost preternatural awareness.

By the second lap, it was clear he was not merely keeping up with the Adepts—he was outpacing many of them.

From his vantage point on the shore, Elder Fergus watched Merlin intently. "This level of control… He's not just avoiding the attacks; he's using their momentum to his advantage. It's as if he's been doing this for years."

Fergus glanced at the other disciples, noting their struggles. "They're relying too much on their cultivated power, not enough on precision. This is why they need this training. But Merlin… his understanding of mana manipulation goes far beyond what he should know."

By the time Merlin reached the final lap, the attacks had intensified. Deacon Arlen, clearly intrigued by Merlin's skill, focused more of his effort on him, launching rapid volleys of mana spheres.

Merlin's movements remained controlled, each step deliberate. At one point, a particularly large mana orb crashed into the pole ahead of him, shattering it and leaving a gap in the circle. Without hesitation, Merlin leapt to the next pole, his mana flaring briefly to steady him mid-air.

The disciples watching from the shore gasped, some with admiration, others with envy.

Merlin completed his third lap and stepped lightly onto the shore, his robes dry and his breathing steady. He glanced back at the lake, his expression unreadable, then turned to face Elder Fergus.

The elder met his gaze, his expression thoughtful. "Impressive," he said, his voice carrying a weight that silenced the murmurs among the other disciples. "But remember, Merlin, mastery is not just about skill. It's about understanding when to apply it. We'll see if you can carry that same precision into real battle."

Merlin nodded once, then stepped aside to watch the others finish, his mind already focused on the next challenge.

As Merlin stepped onto the first bamboo pole, his body instinctively shifted into the familiar stances of Thunder Steps, supported by the precise footwork of the 8 Angles of Attack. However, without his Lightning Mana to augment his speed and precision, the technique felt strangely incomplete. Each movement lacked the explosive burst of power he was accustomed to, and the synchronization between his body and mana felt off.

———Flashback ———-

Merlin's initial steps were hesitant, his footing shaky on the narrow bamboo poles. Without the amplification of Lightning Mana, the Thunder Steps felt almost sluggish, as if his body was moving through water rather than air.

The combination of balancing on the poles and dodging Deacon Arlen's mana projectiles made the first lap a trial of patience. A poorly timed step caused one of the poles to wobble dangerously, nearly throwing Merlin off balance. He had to shift into a defensive stance, using the angles of attack to stabilize himself and dodge incoming spells.

Deacon Arlen's voice carried over the lake. "Hesitation will cost you, Merlin! Keep moving!"

Merlin gritted his teeth, forcing himself to press on. He relied on the 8 Angles to guide his movements, focusing on precision rather than speed.

As Merlin transitioned into the second lap, he began to feel a shift. His body, no longer resisting the absence of Lightning Mana, started to adapt. Each step became more deliberate, and the awkwardness of the Thunder Steps faded.

The 8 Angles of Attack became his anchor. Every movement was calculated—a step forward was an offensive angle, a pivot sideways was defensive. He visualized the exercise as a battle, each pole a new opponent to be outmaneuvered.

His mana, initially sluggish, began to circulate more smoothly. It wasn't the raw speed and explosiveness of Lightning Mana, but a steady, controlled flow that allowed him to move with increasing grace.

Deacon Arlen noticed the change, smirking slightly as he increased the intensity of his attacks. Bolts of mana zipped past Merlin, but his movements were sharper now. He sidestepped one projectile with a crescent motion, leaped to the next pole, and spun to avoid another.

By the third lap, Merlin's movements had transformed. The Thunder Steps, combined with the 8 Angles of Attack, flowed seamlessly into a new, hybrid technique. He no longer relied on explosive bursts of speed—instead, he moved with the efficiency and precision of a seasoned warrior.

Deacon Arlen launched a series of rapid-fire mana spheres, aiming to test Merlin's newfound rhythm. But Merlin was ready. He ducked, sidestepped, and pivoted, his body moving like a blade cutting through the air.

At one point, a mana sphere shattered the pole ahead of him. Without breaking stride, Merlin executed a diagonal leap, landing gracefully on the next pole. His control over his movements and mana had reached a level of harmony he hadn't experienced before.

As he neared the finish line, Merlin felt a quiet sense of accomplishment. He had taken a technique that was incomplete without Lightning Mana and refined it into something uniquely his own.

Watching from the shore, Elder Fergus stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Interesting. Stripping away the Lightning element should have crippled the Thunder Steps, yet he's found a way to adapt it. He's using precision and control to compensate for the lack of raw power. That level of ingenuity is rare."

The elder's gaze shifted to the other disciples, who were struggling to maintain balance while dodging attacks. "They're relying too heavily on their mana. Merlin, on the other hand, is relying on skill—and that will carry him further than they realize."

As Merlin stepped off the final pole and onto solid ground, he felt a sense of clarity. The exercise had forced him to adapt, to strip away his reliance on elemental power and focus purely on technique.

He glanced at the other disciples, who were still navigating the course with varying degrees of success. For him, the real lesson wasn't about completing the exercise—it was about discovering new depths to his abilities.

With a faint smile, Merlin turned his attention back to the lake. The day had only just begun, and he was eager to see what other challenges the Inner Court had to offer.