Chương 79: The Spell Hidden in Sore Muscles

Sieghart continued performing the same manual labor for several days, although calling it the same became increasingly inaccurate once the enchanted bands started adding more weight. Each morning, the runes around his wrists and ankles glowed before increasing their burden. The change was small enough to remain manageable, but large enough for his body to notice immediately. On the first weighted day, he had carried crates through a warehouse without dropping any.

By the fourth day, lifting those same crates made his shoulders shake before he crossed half the distance. The deliveries became worse as well. Every staircase forced his legs to work against the ankle bands, while every package pulled against the additional weight around his wrists. Ronan followed him across the city as usual, offering corrections whenever Sieghart's posture became inefficient. He never helped carry anything and appeared suspiciously entertained by the entire process.

"Use your legs."

"I am using my legs."

"Then use them correctly."

"That instruction is meaningless."

"It would be meaningless if I hadn't demonstrated the movement six times." Sieghart adjusted his stance before lifting another box. The change reduced some pressure on his back, but it did nothing about the burning sensation spreading through his arms. His body hurt more with every passing day. The discomfort never reached the level of a serious injury, yet his muscles remained stiff from morning until night. First Aid could have removed most of the pain.

The spell had healed burns, torn flesh, blood loss, and damage severe enough to kill an ordinary person. Treating sore muscles would have required almost no effort. Sieghart refused to do it. The purpose of Ronan's training was to force him to understand his body. Healing every trace of muscular pain the moment it appeared would erase the feedback he needed.

The soreness told him which areas had worked hardest, where his posture remained inefficient, and how much strain each movement placed upon his developing body. Removing the pain too early might also interfere with the natural adaptation caused by training. Even if First Aid repaired the damage perfectly, Sieghart did not know whether magical healing would allow his muscles to grow stronger afterward.

His knowledge from Earth suggested that muscles adapted when physical stress created microscopic damage and the body rebuilt them. The explanation was probably simplified, but it provided a reasonable foundation. Using healing magic only after serious damage seemed safer than erasing every sign of strain. At least until he understood how First Aid affected long-term physical development. That decision did not make the soreness more enjoyable.

Every night, Sieghart returned to the basement, removed the training bands after their runes unlocked, and collapsed onto his bed. He usually intended to practice Mana Sword or Mana Shield before sleeping. Most evenings, he managed only a few attempts before his arms became too tired to maintain the correct position. The physical exhaustion did not drain his infinite Mana, but it affected his concentration.

A painful shoulder was remarkably effective at interrupting the careful construction of a stable mana framework. Sieghart began to appreciate why most people specialized. Training every form of magic simultaneously became difficult when each discipline demanded different conditions and occupied the same limited number of hours. He still refused to abandon any of them. During the manual labor, Sieghart repeatedly attempted to reinforce his body with mana.

His first idea involved concentrating energy throughout his muscles while carrying the heavy boxes. The result felt like filling a soaked cloth with even more water. Mana entered the area, but it did not improve his strength or change the way the muscles contracted. He tried reinforcing his joints next. Protection already spread beneath his skin, so directing more power around his elbows, knees, shoulders, and ankles seemed reasonable. That method reduced some discomfort, but the effect remained defensive.

His joints became more resistant to strain without producing additional force. Sieghart attempted to push mana through his arms at the exact moment he lifted a crate. The energy moved too slowly and reached his hands after the important part of the motion had already ended. He tried maintaining a constant flow instead. That created pressure throughout his arms but provided no measurable improvement in physical performance. After several failed experiments, Sieghart began questioning the entire concept.

Self-combat magic was a strange name. It sounded like someone had combined several words until the result seemed vaguely impressive. Sieghart suspected that Ronan had invented the term for his personal style rather than using an official magical classification. Mira had called the broader discipline body-enhancement magic. Ronan probably preferred self-combat magic because his techniques combined physical reinforcement, precise movement, mana threads, and close-range fighting without relying upon Aura.

Regardless of its official name, Sieghart remained unable to reproduce even the most basic part. He finished the first weighted week without unlocking a spell. On the final evening, Sieghart returned to the basement with every part of his body hurting. He removed the bands, placed them beside the door, and fell backward onto his bed. The mattress produced a dull creak beneath him. Even that small impact made the muscles along his back complain. Sieghart stared at the ceiling.

"If it were easy, everyone would learn it." The observation was obvious but necessary. His Infinite Mana had allowed him to unlock elemental paths faster than ordinary people, but body-enhancement magic depended upon more than the quantity of power available. He needed correct timing, distribution, intention, and physical awareness. No amount of mana could replace those missing pieces. Sieghart closed his eyes and attempted to remember Ronan's movements during the battle against the corrupted prowlers.

The tracker had accelerated without producing a visible burst of mana. His direction changed smoothly, his balance remained stable, and every attack flowed into the next. Sieghart had not seen a protective glow surrounding his body. There had been no obvious layer of mana around his legs or arms either. Whatever Ronan did, the spell operated inside his body and followed his movements too precisely to become visible from the outside. Sieghart fell asleep before reaching a useful conclusion. Another week passed.

The bands became heavier every morning, and his progress remained nonexistent. Sieghart continued carrying boxes, cleaning storage buildings, and delivering packages throughout Seraphina. His physical endurance improved slightly. He could complete the earlier jobs without resting as often, but the bands increased their weight faster than his body adapted. Every improvement merely allowed Ronan to make the training harder.

By the end of the second week, the wristbands made raising his arms difficult even when he carried nothing. The ankle bands turned every staircase into a personal enemy. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. Sieghart stopped halfway through another delivery route and placed the package beside him. His breathing had become heavy, while sweat ran from beneath his darkened illusionary hair. Ronan waited several steps ahead.

"Taking a break?"

"This isn't working."

"You're still alive." Sieghart ignored the comment and examined the band around his right wrist. The runes pulsed steadily, maintaining enough weight to make his arm ache.

"I have spent two weeks repeating the same movements without making magical progress. Learning through my body alone isn't working." Ronan leaned against a nearby wall.

"What do you plan to do?"

"Use my head."

"That could be dangerous. Something is probably going to explode soon." Sieghart glared at him. Ronan raised both hands and allowed him to continue. Physical labor had given Sieghart information, but information only became useful after someone understood how to apply it. His knowledge from Earth offered two basic principles. Muscles grew stronger by experiencing stress, suffering minor damage, and rebuilding themselves afterward. Speed and coordination improved through repetition.

The nervous system became better at activating the correct muscles in the proper sequence while reducing unnecessary movement. Mana needed to reproduce or enhance those processes somehow. Simply pouring energy into his muscles did nothing because mana required intention. Fire had responded to anger, water to serenity, and Protection to his desire for independence and self-reliance. Even Arcane constructs required a clear understanding of the object being created.

Mana followed purpose rather than behaving like ordinary fuel. Sieghart looked at Ronan.

"When you use self-combat magic, what do you feel?" Ronan's expression became more attentive.

"That depends on the technique."

"The basic reinforcement."

"Why should I answer when you said you wanted to use your head?"

"Using my head includes asking someone who already knows." Ronan laughed quietly.

"Fair enough. I don't think about becoming stronger. I think about completing the movement."

"That is vague."

"It is supposed to be personal. My teacher could have described exactly what he felt, but copying him wouldn't have helped me." Sieghart frowned. Magic depended upon emotion and intention, but those triggers differed between people. His anger created fire because he associated heat and destruction with that feeling. Someone else might produce lightning from anger or require an entirely different emotion to create flames. Body-enhancement magic probably worked the same way.

Ronan could guide the training, but Sieghart needed to discover the mental state that made his own mana respond. He picked up the package and continued the delivery without complaining further. For another week, Sieghart experimented with different intentions while performing every task Ronan assigned. He began with determination. Whenever his muscles grew tired, he focused on the desire to continue moving despite the discomfort.

Mana stirred within his body but spread too widely, producing an effect nearly identical to Protection. It helped him endure the strain without increasing his strength. He tried anger next. The result was immediate and completely useless. Heat gathered throughout his arms, forcing him to stop before the package caught fire. Ronan complained about the summer temperature for the remainder of the morning. Serenity caused his muscles to relax when he needed them to contract.

Independence strengthened Protection again, while desperation made his mana move too erratically to control safely. Sieghart tried imagining his body as a machine. Muscles became ropes pulling across joints, bones acted like levers, and mana served as the force assisting every movement. The visualization improved his timing, but the energy still failed to integrate with his muscles. It remained something added from outside rather than part of the motion.

On the sixth day of experimentation, Sieghart carried two heavy boxes through a warehouse while the bands pulled against every limb. His arms had nearly reached their limit. The muscles shook beneath the strain, and each step threatened to disturb his balance. Sieghart focused on the sensation rather than the pain. Every muscle contracted at a slightly different moment. Some stabilized the crates, others supported his arms, while his back and legs transferred the burden toward the floor.

He had been reinforcing individual areas because he assumed that the muscles performing the most visible work mattered more. That was the mistake. Strength did not come from one muscle operating alone. Even lifting a simple box required multiple muscle groups to contract in coordination. Sieghart stopped thinking about his arms separately. He sensed every muscle participating in the movement and gathered mana across all of them simultaneously. The first pulse remained uneven.

Too much energy entered his shoulders while almost none reached his abdomen and legs. He adjusted the distribution. Instead of forcing raw mana into the muscles, Sieghart synchronized the energy with their contractions. Every time they tightened, the mana tightened with them. The effect remained faint, but the boxes became slightly easier to hold. Sieghart took another step.

He sent the same controlled pulse through every active muscle at the same moment and speed, allowing the mana to follow the complete movement rather than one isolated area. Something changed. Mana stopped feeling like an external coating. It entered the muscles and moved with their fibers, reinforcing each contraction while maintaining balance across his entire body. Sieghart's trembling arms became steady.

The boxes did not grow lighter, yet his body produced enough force to support them without approaching its limit. A notification appeared in front of him. White Magic — Reinforcement Branch has been created. You have created the spell Muscle Reinforcement. Muscle Reinforcement has reached Level 1. Strength + 1. Sieghart stopped walking and focused on the new spell. Muscle Reinforcement — Level 1 Channels mana through the caster's muscles to reinforce physical contraction and increase muscular output.

While active, Strength temporarily increases by an amount equal to the spell's level. Sieghart read the description again. His base Strength had increased from eight to nine. Activating Muscle Reinforcement at Level One raised his effective Strength by another point, bringing it to ten while the spell remained active. The improvement seemed small compared with the destructive power of his offensive magic. However, the benefits would increase with every spell level.

At Level Ten, Muscle Reinforcement would have permanently granted ten Strength while providing another ten whenever activated. That progression was absurdly valuable. Sieghart resumed walking. The crates felt noticeably easier to carry, although the new spell required constant attention to keep the mana synchronized with his movements. Whenever his concentration weakened, the reinforcement became uneven. One arm pulled harder than the other, threatening to tilt the boxes.

Protection remained active beneath his skin, reducing the risk of damaging his joints or bones. The two spells complemented each other naturally. Protection allowed his body to endure greater force, while Muscle Reinforcement allowed his muscles to produce it. Sieghart placed the boxes in their proper location and dismissed the spell. Fatigue returned immediately, along with the full weight of the training bands. Ronan stood near the warehouse entrance, watching him with a satisfied expression.

"You found it."

"You could have told me that the mana needed to follow every muscular contraction."

"And you would have flooded every muscle at once before understanding which ones were active."

"That is what I did."

"You did it after three weeks of learning your limits. If you had tried on the first day, you might have torn your muscles or dislocated something." Sieghart wanted to argue, but Mira had offered the same warning. Even his first successful attempt had nearly caused him to drop the crates when the reinforcement became uneven. Ronan approached and tapped the band around his wrist. The runes glowed before increasing the weight again. Sieghart's arm dropped several centimeters.

"What are you doing?"

"Adjusting the training."

"I just learned the spell."

"And now you need to level it." Sieghart stared at the heavier band. Ronan smiled.

"Congratulations. The real training begins tomorrow." Sieghart considered hitting him with one of the boxes. Then he remembered that they belonged to someone else and placed them down carefully. Learning Muscle Reinforcement had taken three painful weeks, countless deliveries, and more manual labor than Sieghart wanted to remember. The permanent Strength increase proved that the effort had been worthwhile. Unfortunately, Ronan had apparently interpreted success as permission to make everything worse.