The fifth night came to an end wrapped in an almost sacred silence, as if the forest itself were holding its breath so as not to disturb that moment.

The atmosphere was dense, filled with an expectation that seemed almost tangible.

The forest remained motionless, its trees standing like silent sentinels witnessing the nightly ritual.

The moon shone high above the treetops, pouring its silver light over the clearing like a mantle of liquid radiance, illuminating every leaf, every blade of grass, and every stone with an ethereal glow.

Lukas remained seated at the center of the clearing, his legs crossed in the familiar position, his back perfectly straight like an arrow pointing toward the sky.

His breathing was slow, steady, and deep, the rhythm he had cultivated over five long nights of absolute concentration.

His eyes remained closed while one hand rested gently over his chest, his fingers lightly pressing against his heart.

There, at the center of his chest, the small moon that had been nourished particle by particle over five nights was no longer a mere outline. It was complete, a perfect sphere of silver light, small, delicate, and serene.

It pulsed in perfect harmony with the beating of his heart, radiating a pleasant coolness that slowly spread through his chest, like a miniature cold sun cooling his organs.

For the first time since he had begun his journey to sense mana, Lukas no longer needed to maintain his concentration to keep that little moon from disappearing.

He no longer had to hold it together with his will, like someone shielding a flame from the wind. It remained there on its own, stable and alive. As if it had always been there, as if it were a natural part of his body.

It was as though a second heart had been born within him, a new source of life, a new heartbeat joining the first in perfect harmony.

Lukas remained motionless for several minutes, simply savoring that unprecedented sensation. The stillness, the completeness, the certainty that something important had been achieved.

He had always heard Clavor say that the Mana Source was the true beginning of a warrior’s life, the moment when potential became reality. Now he finally understood what that meant.

It was not merely a reserve of energy, an empty container waiting to be filled. It was a part of him, a new organ, created by his own will, forged through discipline and patience. An extension of his very being that would change everything.

A few meters away, Clavor watched his son in silence, his analytical eyes taking in every detail of his posture, every movement of his breathing.

His normally stern gaze carried a rare glimmer of satisfaction, a light that appeared only in moments when pride overcame his usual restraint.

He waited a few more moments, allowing Lukas to savor that achievement, before slowly walking toward him. His footsteps were silent upon the grass, his presence imposing yet not threatening. He stopped in front of him, his shadow stretching beneath the moonlight.

He knelt down, his knees touching the cool grass. Without saying a word, he placed two fingers against Lukas’s chest, directly above his heart, where the Lunar Source pulsed. His fingers were steady and precise, finding the exact spot with the familiarity of someone who had done this many times before.

He closed his eyes, his expression focused. He carefully sensed the circulation of mana throughout his son’s body, evaluating every pulse, every flow. The small Lunar Source pulsed steadily, releasing an extremely tiny amount of energy with each heartbeat, a minute, almost imperceptible, yet constant flow.

It was still fragile. Very fragile. But it was perfectly stable.

After a few seconds, Clavor withdrew his hand, his fingers slowly pulling away. A faint smile appeared on his face, one that carried years of experience and understanding.

"The hardest part is over."

Lukas slowly opened his eyes, his eyelashes rising gently. He still looked tired, the mental exhaustion evident on his face. Five consecutive nights of concentration had drained nearly all of his mental energy, leaving him exhausted, yet satisfied.

Even so, his violet eyes shone with an intensity that no amount of fatigue could extinguish.

"Really?"

Clavor nodded, his gesture firm and confident.

"Yes." He paused briefly before continuing, carefully choosing his words.

"Many believe that a warrior’s training begins when they learn to strengthen their muscles with mana. They’re wrong."

He pointed a finger toward his son’s chest, emphasizing his words.

"Everything begins here."

Clavor spent a few moments watching the moon reflected in Lukas’s eyes, the silver light dancing within his irises.

"Anyone can move mana through their body for a few moments, provided someone helps them. But without a Source, that energy quickly disappears. It’s like trying to store water using only your hands."

He slowly closed his own hand, his fingers curling into a fist.

"The Source is the vessel. The heart of mana. The place where all energy will be stored, refined, and distributed throughout the rest of the body."

Lukas lowered his gaze to his own chest, his hand still gently resting over his heart. He could feel that little moon pulsing, a second heartbeat perfectly synchronized with his own. It was still difficult to believe that it truly existed, that something so extraordinary could actually be real.

Clavor continued, his voice taking on a more serious tone.

"Many warriors fail before they even finish this stage. Some spend months trying to form a Source. Others take years. Some never succeed."

Lukas remained silent, his father’s words weighing on him. He had never thought about it before, never considered that forming a Source could be so difficult. To him, those five days had felt like an eternity, each night a battle against exhaustion and frustration. But hearing his father, he realized he had been fast.

"It took you five nights." Clavor smiled faintly, his eyes shining with restrained pride.

"That was almost exactly how long it took me."

Lukas’s eyes widened in surprise.

"Really?"

"Yes." His father nodded, his expression softening with the memory.

"Your grandfather took four days."

Lukas laughed, a weak but genuine sound.

"So I still lost to Grandpa."

Clavor let out a small chuckle, a rare and precious sound.

"Yes, it seems you did."

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