Spilling the beans

Nearly an hour and a half later, Lisa stepped into the dimly lit living room with effortless grace, her long robes whispering against the polished wooden floor. Her eyes immediately fell upon her brother, already seated in his favorite chair, casually sipping from a steaming cup of coffee. The rich aroma of roasted beans filled the air, but it did little to ease the tension that clung to her like a second skin.

She lowered herself into the chair opposite him, folding her hands neatly in her lap. The silence that stretched between them was heavy, punctuated only by the soft clink of ceramic as Orion set his cup down. His gaze met hers, steady and unreadable, but he could see it—the tightness in her jaw, the storm brewing behind her golden eyes. She was not pleased.

Orion exhaled slowly, choosing the wisdom of patience. He had no intention of making the first move; Lisa would speak when she was ready. And she did.

"First," she said, her voice calm but edged with steel, "enlighten me about your training today. No matter your talent, leaping ahead to the yellow core should have taken you at least three more months." Her tone left no room for deception.

Orion tilted his head slightly, regarding her with quiet amusement. He knew this interrogation was inevitable. He took another measured sip of his coffee, then set it aside with deliberate care before finally responding. "As you surmised, I haven't quite reached the yellow core. But," he admitted, leaning back into his chair, "I did take a sip of an elixir before meditating."

Lisa's fingers curled against her palm, her eyes narrowing in a mixture of frustration and alarm. "Are you out of your mind? Elixirs might benefit ordinary mages, but you are not ordinary. You progress faster than anyone who relies on them. You don't need shortcuts."

"I didn't take a shortcut," Orion countered, his voice even. "I took a calculated risk."

Lisa scoffed. "Calculated? Have you forgotten what happened the last time you used an elixir? Your entire being began absorbing mana uncontrollably, nearly engulfing your heart in raw, unchecked energy. If Grandpa hadn't intervened, you would have exploded into a burst of magical energy right then and there."

His jaw tightened at the memory, an unpleasant shadow passing over his features. "Don't remind me of that."

"Someone has to," Lisa snapped. "Because clearly, you haven't learned."

He held up a hand, palm outward. "This time was different. I had a plan. And as you can see, I'm fine."

Observing his confident nod, Lisa's initial amusement contorted into a frown. In a burst of sharp words, she demanded, "Enough theatrics; tell me precisely what transpired... NOW." Her mana surged, permeating the surroundings, accompanied by an unmistakable aura of bloodlust.

She noticed the subtle tremor of his hand, and finally reined in her bloodlust, a testament to her newfound control after achieving the stage of a silver core.

"Alright, alright. I was about to spill the magical beans. No need to unleash the sibling wrath," her brother sighed, his tone carrying a tinge of dejection.

Orion sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose before meeting her gaze once more. "So after I took the elixir and began meditating, the mana flooded into me, just like before. But instead of letting it overwhelm me, this time I sent a controlled pulse of my own mana outward—something Grandpa once theorized only I could do. That pulse acted as a stabilizer, allowing me to exert some level of influence over the surrounding mana."

Lisa arched an eyebrow, "Go on."

"By guiding its flow," Orion continue, "Instead of allowing the mana to rush uncontrollably through my veins, I directed it inward, directly toward my heart. There, my unique mana signature acted like a sieve, replacibg wild natrual mana signature with my own, hence purifying the raw energy before it could wreak havoc. That purification process is what triggered my immediate breakthrough."

Lisa's lips parted slightly, her expression shifting from anger to something more akin to reluctant fascination. "That... shouldn't be possible. Not without external assistance. Even the greatest mages struggle to control wild mana."

Orion offered a wry smile. "That's why it worked. It wasn't about overpowering the mana. It was about redirecting it, giving it a path to follow rather than resisting its nature."

She considered this for a long moment before shaking her head. "Even if I accept that—do you realize how dangerous that was? If you had absorbed even a fraction more than you could handle, your core could have shattered. Your heart could have stopped."

"But it didn't," he pointed out, the confidence in his voice unwavering. "And before you say it, yes, I know this method won't work again. The next breakthrough requires an even greater influx of mana, one I won't be able to control with the same technique. But for this stage, it was a calculated risk."

Lisa exhaled sharply through her nose, her frustration bubbling over. Before Orion could react, she shot to her feet and delivered a swift, resounding smack to the side of his head.

The force sent him toppling backward, chair and all.

"Are you bereft of reason?" she thundered, standing over him, hands clenched into fists. "You gambled with your life for a shortcut! A single mistake could have—" She swallowed hard, closing her eyes as if to steady herself. "Could have killed you."

Orion groaned, rubbing the back of his head as he righted himself. "Ow," he muttered. "I don't recall Grandpa ever using physical violence to make a point."

"Grandpa isn't your sister," Lisa shot back, her voice thick with emotion. "And he wouldn't have stood by and watched you self-destruct either."

She knelt beside him, her eyes scanning his face with a mixture of anger and something softer—something closer to fear. "And even if you succeeded it must have been very torturous process and you are still in too mach pain. Your hand," she said suddenly. "It's still trembling."

Orion instinctively tried to tuck his hand away, but she caught his wrist before he could.

"You can't hide it from me, Ori," she murmured, her tone gentler now. "I've been watching over you since you were a toddler. I know when you're in pain."

He hesitated before sighing. "It's nothing serious. Just some lingering strain."

Lisa studied him, then shook her head. "This urgency of yours... it's not just about getting stronger, is it? It's like you're racing against something invisible. Why, Orion? What are you chasing?"

He hesitated, his usual confidence faltering for just a moment. Then, he looked away. "I just... don't want to waste time."

Lisa narrowed her eyes. "That's not an answer."

"It's the only one I have right now," he admitted.

She exhaled, pressing her lips into a thin line. Then, without warning, she pulled him into a tight embrace.

"You don't have to do this alone, Ori," she whispered. "You have me. You have Grandpa. Stop carrying everything by yourself."

He stiffened for a moment before reluctantly returning the hug. "I know."

But as he closed his eyes, he wasn't sure if he really believed it.

Lisa, however, did. And she would make damn sure he did too—before his recklessness got him killed.