Target No. 1

He sat on the bed cross-legged, his decision already made. His eyes were closed as he concentrated in a state of meditation. This was a technique that allowed him to channel his will, to peer at the mana heart within his body.

Like a mind's eye, he was able to see inside himself, a view as if before him despite not being there. His attention drew upon his surroundings, to the small replica hiding behind the giant beating red heart. Then to the tendrils that attached itself between them.

He had to be sure not to damage areas near these tendrils, as they operated like pathways much akin to veins. Through them, mana would then enter actual veins and spread around his body, although it could only be kept within his anatomy. If he did damage the tendrils or the spaces around it, it would then impact his ability to spread mana until his heart had healed, and thus the ability to issue commands to his slaves.

'Though I did agree not to use that feature. Oh well', now it was time to rip his heart full of holes.

The way of doing so was simple. He could control his mana heart just by way of feeling it with his detached will. As if using telekinesis, he clutched at a space of the heart and tore in both directions until a rip slowly formed, and a pain clutched at his chest.

"Fuck…..", he murmured but he couldn't break concentration from the pain, otherwise he'd lose the ability to manifest his will.

It would be made fairly impossible to continue the task if he lost it, as one had to remain at peace to perform the trick. And enduring pain was not peaceful.

"Huuu", he breathed a sigh and continued with the painful task. 

It had merely caught him by surprise, with his memories clogged for the past month; it had been a while since he last remembered performing such an action. But pain was something he was experienced in, he was sure to endure something as meager as this.

He tore open another hole, but stopped short on his second, keeping it smaller. This was the amount he was used to, and unless he had more mana, he couldn't support the loss of much more lest his heart burst.

He peered into the hole, at the inner workings of the mana heart. Such a sight was something he could only afford to look at in the past, but now he was able to enter it. He moved closer to one of the holes he had caused, pushing past the mana gushing out like a waterfall.

He put his imagined hand through. Such an act in the past would have expelled him, like an invisible barrier erected before him. But now that he had a boarding pass called affinity, he was no longer barred entry, his conceived body going through without any restrictions.

'There must be another way of entering directly without forming holes… I know there is, but I need to read up on such a technique again', his desire to enter the library grew stronger as his curiosities disrupted his thoughts.

And just like that, he broke from his meditation.

He sighed, 'I did want to take a closer glimpse of what went on in there… Alas, there is always another time'.

But his thoughts didn't stop thinking, reminding himself of information too common not to remember. He knew he needed an affinity before going in there, and to be in there was the necessary step to performing mana stimulation, which was what allowed one to expand it and cultivate the path of a mage.

From what he had read, the mana stimulation process merely accepted more mana into the heart than the natural rate allowed, channeling more than you could handle to allow the boundaries of the total space to be pushed. Upon exceeding certain amounts of mana in the heart, cores could rank up to allow the maximum bounds to be pushed further, each rank allowing more mana to be stored in the heart as a result.

The higher the rank of a core, the more pillars formed, and more pillars meant more space for multiple magics to be made. Or conversely, a formula could be written on multiple pillars to use higher tiers of magic, tiers being dictated by the amount of pillars necessary to conjure it, thus the rank of their cores.

He had also wanted to test out a certain technique he had read. Any body cultivators that had affinities could tear it open from the inside and perform a certain technique. This technique allowed one to control the flow of mana throughout the body rather than allowing it to gush out randomly, like a raging flood without control.

If he didn't get distracted there was a simple technique that may allow him to divert the mana to improve at specific things, namely his agility, endurance or strength, of which he could choose between. Certain techniques like his family's famous one have even been said to bolster the effects, to improve at a rate inconceivable otherwise. But he didn't know if the metal affinity was necessary just to get into the mana heart, or if it was vital to the technique as well.

He assumed the latter, despite the technique he learnt in a book not needing any particular affinity. Yet he was curious about it. And that curiosity consumed him as he desired to exchange notes with his sister right then and there. Only to be reminded of how he actually felt of her.

'These feelings are so burdensome…', and brooded as a result.

He then took his crutch into the shower, ensuring he remained upright. He tapped at the orb encased by glass, steamy water slowly trickling from it as it made contact with his back, slowly unveiling him from the dirt and grime encasing his pale skin. While balancing, he had to unwrap his bandages, pulling out the cloth left inside while grimacing as the water made contact with his wound. 

As blood clogged the drain, he wondered briefly about the difference to using drains for showers in contrast to toilets, distracting his mind from the pain. But shortly after he shrugged off the lack of innovation. He wasn't a plumbing expert, he didn't know if there was a necessary difference. 

Instead he cleaned his rags before tapping the shower off and applying them again, heading for the closet for his robes, then straight to bed. As his head hit the pillow, he immediately realized how much more comfortable it was than the room he rented in the guild. It didn't take long after that though, his consciousness waning as his eyes closed.

Hopefully this would be the last he'd need to endure such pain. Hopefully tomorrow would prove more peaceful than the days before.

…

Ding…. Ding….. Ding….

The sound of a loud bell emitted through his window. 

"Urgh", he groaned, unwilling to get out of bed.

He didn't want to have to endure more pain, his sleep since coming to this world had not yet reminded him of days past. He wanted to remain at peace, the only time he could remain cozy… It didn't help that the bed was comfortable, having a slight spring to it, offset by his weight while his body melded with the mattress. His pillow so soft, so malleable as his head imprinted in it. He wondered what kind of feathers could produce such a cushiony feeling.

Minutes passed, then half an hour. He had fallen back to sleep.

Ding…. Ding….. D-

"Fuck", he groaned again, only this time lifting his upper half from his sheets.

As he sat there groggy and sleepy eyed, he slowly uncovered his leg from the sheets. Unwrapping the bandages he was in for a surprise as he realized the hole reduced by half. The large gaping hole, now only thicker than a thumb. As he peered into it, he could even see most of the veins reconstructing as well.

But while he got up from his bed, he realized how difficult it still was to walk. He glanced over at the crutch leaned against the end of his bed.

He groaned as he realized, 'this is going to attract a lot of unwanted attention'

…

Outside, he glanced past the bell tower, at the sun radiating within the sky. There were no clocks that he knew of on campus, sun gazing being the only way to get a vague understanding at any given time.

There was however, the bell tower that served to ring at specific times. The first 4 were to wake up, the 5th for the first morning classes to start and so on. But one didn't always wake up on the first round of ringing, and so sun gazing took place to have a more accurate understanding of which number it was up to.

Beyond that were hourglasses or timed candles that he recalled existed back at his own estate. But those weren't spread out for students to use, only by professors and such. 

It didn't take him long to head to class, students clogging up the hallways as he entered the largest building. Streams of people of a limited age group were pushing and shoving past each other, the early mornings were always the busiest when it came to navigating the first floor of the building. He only tried his best not to have his crutch kicked out amongst all the feet, his books sitting under his armpit.

Thud, thud, thud.

But shortly thereafter he climbed a set of stairs to the 2nd floor, the thuds of his crutch becoming more prominent as the populace sparsened. Attention drew upon him, yet it was not their gazes he was worried about. His hands halted by a sliding door, he drew a breath and thought up a game plan.

'My first class is theory based, it doesn't have many of the people that torment me regularly. This should be body cultivation focused, so only swordsmen wannabe's remain in here. Those are the more hotheaded of the lot, so I should expect at least one or two to pester me before the start of class', he looked to his leg, 'fuck, I don't want to deal with this right now'.

But he knew that bullies were opportunists, and loved to make things harder for the weak and meek.

'But beyond today, I need to set an example. Toleration only means it will persist. To target the source, a few key people need to go. And in addition I need to build a reputation that makes me untouchable. There are 3 main ways to do that… But the most reliable way is to join a faction', he sighed.

'There are a few opposing groups, I don't want anything to do with any of them, to bow down like a dog. But. Sentimentality will only get in the way of the plan. Besides I can rather employ an ambiguous clientele relationship than to join them. I just have to make use of them, I have to play them before I can rise above. To sow discord within their ranks, and profit from it. But then who to choose? At this starting point I can bide my time and pick between the best options… There's the-'

"Out of the way dumbass", his shoulder was grabbed and he was pushed to the side, losing balance and falling over.

The door slid open revealing an auditorium type class full of students seated behind long desks served on an array of steps. Each few steps further raised above the one before, allowing students to peer over the heads of those in front of them. It was a large room, twice the size of a typical classroom, probably with enough seats to fill 50 students. Though only half sat in attendance.

The new students entered as a group of 3. Silas sat before them only realizing how pathetic he looked with the door open to reveal him. He clutched at his crutch sprawled on the floor, gathering himself along with his books as he confidently strutted on in. People were sure to abuse any further weakness that he displayed.

While his crutch brought him attention, his mind was elsewhere as he wished to retaliate against the newly arrived but realized he already had one too many enemies. Mocking stares descended from above as he stood at the front of the class besides a tall desk, the teachers' speaking space. 

Their gazes hungering for him like rabid wolves, watching as his feeble state encouraged a pummeling. Yet they only served to fuel his vengeance. He glared back at the class, as if it were him against all.

But on blinking his eyes, most of them looked away carrying on with their conversations, was it all just in his head? No, the eyes of a particular classmate remained on him, his firm desire redirected.

She sat on the higher side of the class, sitting there with her hands clutching her face, purple strands of her hair trailing down the outsides of her arms, onto the desk. She just leaned there, isolated. Yet her presence was overbearing all the same. Her purple eyes gleaming with delight while targeting him, calculating something, as if foreshadowing a foregone conclusion of hers. 

"Tch", he clicked his tongue involuntarily.

'Kiyah', one of the few core people that needed removing.