Book 1, Chapter 17

Ten minutes passed, yet Hierophant Hawking was still balanced, upside-down, on his little finger. When asked about the golden glow, he explained that this glow was his mana, concentrated on his little finger.

"Would you happen to have read about the other methods of raising your mana capacity?" the Hierophant asked.

Immanuel's eyes widened upon hearing the question. He spoke to me without any any hint of effort at all. Which means—

"Maier?" Immanuel's body jumped.

Seeing the Hierophant lock eyes with him, Immanuel strung a rapid chain of words, trying to make up for the earlier inattention. "Ah-no-no-no, Your Beatitude. I have not read about those."

"Never even heard about them?"

"Not a thing, Your Beatitude."

"I see." The Hierophant then looked down to relax his neck. "The reason I asked is because if this method does not work for you, then at least we have others we could use."

"Like drinking fountain water?"

"No, what that only does is give someone mana, which is why no one is allowed to drink it. Everyone having mana would be a chaotic scenario to deal with."

Immanuel nearly fell backwards upon hearing those words. What? Really?

The Hierophant turned to him again and winked. "Keep that between us, alright?"

What if I spread this around someday? Came the intrusive thought. Immanuel had always known that no one but the clergy had access to the fountains of the temples, and that despite being clergy, they do not know why it was forbidden to drink of the fountain's water, only that it was forbidden and punishable by death.

Perhaps unless they reach the rank of Hierophant?

"Maier?"

Immanuel realized that he looked at nothing in particular. "Yes-yes, Your Beatitude. You have my word."

"Great." The Hierophant planted his feet on the floor and stood upright.

Then he sat across Immanuel once again. "Most people with mana know about the five ways to raise mana capacity. The method I just showed you was a combination of two of the five methods."

Immanuel squinted his eyes at the cleric. Which methods?

Hierophant Hawking continued without regard for Immanuel's facial expression. "To be specific, it's a method of meditation where you meditate on two things at the same time. That's the combination. And then you concentrate all your mana on your little finger."

"What two things?"

"Your sigil and your mana."

"I see." Immanuel then extended a little finger for the cleric to see. "So how tough is your little finger?"

Hierophant Hawking laughed at the question. Then he extended his little finger Immanuel's way. "There's only one way to find out!"

As they were seated far apart, Immanuel stood, moved towards the cleric, and crouched in front of him.

Then Immanuel pinched the cleric's extended little finger. It feels no different than mine.

Then he bent the finger backward and forward, feeling little resistance from the cleric as he did so.

Then, looking right into the eyes of Hierophant Hawking while still holding the cleric's little finger, Immanuel exclaimed, "No way this finger is just as strong as an average man's!"

"Yet it is. It is my mana that props me up while I am upside-down."

Immanuel froze. Thoughts raced until one question remained.

"Is there a problem, Maier?" The question thrust Immanuel back to reality. Realizing that he was still holding the cleric's little finger while lost in thought, he let go of the finger and backed away an inch. Then he got down on the floor with crossed legs.

"Right, sorry." Immanuel looked down, heat and sweat building up to the surface of his person. "I was lost in thought."

"What about?"

"So it's your mana that strengthens you and stabilizes you even while you are upside-down?"

Without taking time to think, the Hierophant replied, "Yes and no."

Confused, Immanuel furrowed his eyebrows.

"I see," the Hierophant began. "The strength and stability provided by mana isn't physical, but spiritual. For example—"

Hierophant Hawking shot his arm forward, his palm bathed in a golden glow. The force of the move displaced the air in the area and pushed Immanuel so hard that he flew backwards and slammed onto the wall. The familiar sound of shuffling outside indicated that books fell off the shelves too. Then Immanuel fell to the floor face first.

"And that's for not letting me land a hit yesterday." The cleric chuckled.

"Spiritual..." Immanuel groaned, still rolling on the floor, reeling from the pain. Despite what just happened to him, he still thought to remind the cleric where they were in the conversation.

"By spiritual, I mean to say, in accordance with your will." Immanuel had planted an arm onto the floor and pushed down. He struggled to get back up.

The Hierophant continued, even while Immanuel struggled to get back up. “Our god, Mistrerion, the Golden-Eyed Crow, gifts mana to random individuals for them to use in achieving great feats in this life. What feats they will achieve depend on the individual, not the god’s.”

Silence followed as Hierophant Hawking waited for Immanuel to recover, and when that happened, the latter posed a question. “But it is not possible for someone to achieve great feats with a very limited amount of mana, is it?”

“Well, in the same way you cannot work without food or drink. Or better yet, if you compare a muscle-bound laborer and someone who sits idly by all day, it is the laborer who has a greater chance of making something of himself, yes?”

“I see. Mana is food and muscle for sigils, then."

"You get it."

"So what's the first step to grow my mana capacity?"

Hierophant Hawking held both hands out, palms facing up. "Hold out your hands," he said. Immanuel followed suit.

Then the Hierophant said, "Feel the presence of mana in your body."

Instinctively, Immanuel closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

The cleric chuckled at Immanuel. "Oh, you don't need to close your eyes and take in deep breaths to feel the mana in your body."

Hierophant Hawking continued, "It is a presence that feels like liquid deep inside you... a sudden rush of cold water you might have felt at times when you use that sigil on your chest."

Immanuel jolted, recognizing that exact sensation the cleric described. "So that's what it was! I've felt that exact same feeling once or twice since I got this sigil and I thought it was my nerves."

There was a pause, and Immanuel raised his hand. "So how do I bring up that sensation again?"

"Oh, right. I had forgotten that you are not yet used to feeling your mana." Hierophant Hawking then felt his chest with one hand. "Acknowledge your sigil, but do not intend to use it. Keep at it—just keep it glowing. Then that feeling will remain."

Come to think of it, I only acknowledged this sigil when I used it. Immanuel then mimicked the cleric's action.

"In time," continued the Hierophant, "You will learn how to bring it to the surface of your being, even without acknowledging your sigil."

The purple glow of Immanuel's sigil pierced through his garb. Immanuel set his mind to acknowledge every single sensation he came across, like the way his cloth felt to his skin, how he breathed, the crawling on his skin as he waited for that cold sensation, and then...

There!

"I feel it now!" The sensation, true enough, felt like a rush of cold water. He felt it in his abdomen.

"Good, as long as you keep acknowledging your sigil, you will keep feeling that sensation." Immanuel nodded. "You are feeling it in your abdomen, correct?"

"Yes."

"That's how your mana feels like. Now, mentally bring it to your hands."

Immanuel focused his mind on the cold liquid sensation, removing himself from everything else around him.

... in accordance with your will.

He willed the cold sensation to swirl inside of his being, and it followed his mental orders, even going so far as to swirl at speeds so great it extended itself upwards and rose to his chest in no time.

He then willed the cold, already swirling sensation to split up and move to his left and right shoulders. A part of the swirl shot away, bringing with it more of itself until both swirls were of matching coldness with each other, a sensation which Immanuel understood meant that they had the same amount of mana.

Huh, that easy?

The two cold, swirling sensations then moved to Immanuel's left and right shoulders.

"May I interrupt you?" Hierophant Hawking broke the silence. This startled Immanuel.

"Where is your mana at now?" Immanuel, still reeling, wide-eyed from being startled, plants a hand on each of his shoulders in response.

"Keep that there." The cleric got up. "Get up. I need you to do something. Let’s move here.”

—

Immanuel was upside-down, standing on both hands, at the same space where Hierophant Hawking demonstrated his method of increasing mana capacity.

"When you feel like you are about to fall, bring your mana from your shoulders to your hands and will yourself to stay standing on both hands."

Immanuel said nothing. His arms were shaking as he was straining to stay balanced. Speaking would just disrupt his breathing and concentration.

In time, the inevitable happened. Immanuel's body swayed forward and back, forcing him to reposition his hands to keep his balance.

Now. The cold sensations rushed down as they spread from his shoulders all the way to his fingertips. With his will imposed upon his mana, he felt something massive envelop his shoulders, arms, and hands, likely a magical force supporting them. And when this happened, the burden of carrying the entire weight of his body was lifted off of them.

"How's this, Your Beatitude?" Immanuel bragged.

His arms no longer shook. His body no longer swayed. His breathing no longer had grunts in between them. His handstand form was perfect once again.

Hierophant Hawking furrowed both eyebrows and cupped his chin with one hand. "Great, though I can feel your mana all throughout your arms all the way up your shoulders. It's fine, not bad for a first try."

"I'll move my mana down." Immanuel willed his mana to compress on both hands. Bit by bit, the support on his arms and shoulders loosened, and they began to shake as they started to bear the weight of Immanuel's body once again.

He grunted. Sweat started to fall to the floor. His heart pounded as he panicked. He struggled to push his mana down to concentrate them on both hands—his mana kept rising back up his arms. Down! Move down!

"Will yourself to stay standing on your hands as you bring your mana down."

Right! That’s it! No wonder I’m having a hard time with this exercise! The Hierophant's tip came too late, however, and Immanuel’s body swayed once and then crashed to the floor with a loud thud.