Chapter 102: Jax’s Potential

Training Grounds Astralis Arcanum,

“It’s called—Convergent Stillpoint.”

Jax’s eyes lit up instantly, gleaming with excitement.

“Convergent Stillpoint…! That’s a cool name!”

Zane smirked at his reaction, the faintest curve tugging at the corner of his lips.

“You think so?”

“Hell yeah!” Jax grinned wide, looking like he’d already fallen in love with the name alone.

“Good,” Zane said, his tone turning serious again. “Then come. Let me teach you properly.”

He motioned with a tilt of his head, and the two of them walked a short distance away from the divided groups of mages and warriors. The others continued to meditate, eyes shut, absorbed in their own techniques, while Jax followed Zane with a mix of nervous anticipation and eagerness.

Stopping at a quiet spot near the edge of the training ground, Zane folded his arms and fixed Jax with that sharp, assessing stare of his.

“Listen carefully, Jax. I’ll tell you exactly what this technique is—and what it will demand of you.”

Jax straightened his back unconsciously, his usual goofy grin softening into something more focused. He gave a small nod, waiting for his professor to continue.

“Convergent Stillpoint is a focusing, centering, and unifying technique I created for those who blend martial prowess with magic, such as yourself,” Zane explained, his tone calm but edged with authority. “The practitioner draws a slow, focused breath and calls their mana to converge at a single point within their core, just behind the heart. This nexus of energy synchronizes their physical strength and magical potential, creating a sensation of balance and readiness throughout the body.

As the Stillpoint settles, distracting thoughts and chaotic impulses are quieted. The mind narrows its focus to the present moment—movement, aim, and intent fuse seamlessly. Whether preparing to channel magic through a weapon or engaging in close combat, Convergent Stillpoint enhances control, stabilizes mana use, and brings clarity to decisions under pressure. It allows the practitioner to shift effortlessly between spellcasting and physical action with unwavering composure and precision.”

Jax’s eyes widened as he absorbed every word, his chest tightening with something more than excitement.

Professor created this technique… for me…!

Zane smirked knowingly. “You’ve got quite a lot of potential in you, kid. So use it—learn this well.”

Those words struck deep. Jax swallowed, his thoughts racing.

Potential…? All my life, aside from a few, I’ve only heard that someone with mana syndrome is never talented… never worth betting on.

His goofy grin softened into something more genuine. “Yes, professor. I’ll learn it.”

Zane’s smile widened, sharp and approving. “Good. Then let’s start, kiddo. Follow my instructions.”

He stepped closer, his voice steady and rhythmic.

“Stand in your battle stance, both feet firm and steady. Feel the weight of your weapons in your hands, and take a slow, deep breath. As the air fills your lungs, draw your mana inward from every corner of your body, gathering it at a single point just behind your heart—where strength and magic meet.

With each heartbeat, imagine this converged energy pulsing outward, traveling through your muscles and along your nerves to your hands and eyes. As you exhale, let tension slip away, leaving your mind clear and alert. Sense your physical intent and magical potential braided together, sharpened to the present task—whether aiming your weapon or focusing a spell.

Repeat this cycle: inhale and draw in mana, feel the convergence behind your heart, exhale and send that unified energy where it’s needed. Stay in this state until your focus becomes absolute—body and magic synchronized, decisions effortless, readiness unwavering. This… is the foundation of Convergent Stillpoint.”

Jax slowly raised his guns and slid into his battle stance, grounding his feet. Closing his eyes, he tried to follow the instructions exactly as Zane had said—breathing deep, pulling mana inward, feeling for that single point behind his heart.

Zane’s sharp gaze never left him. He circled around, watching every subtle shift in Jax’s posture, every tremor of mana in the air. His eyes narrowed faintly.

Let’s see….

Zane paced slowly in circles around Jax, his eyes sharp but calm. He could see the boy still fumbling to grasp the essence of the technique. Of course, he won’t get it instantly, Zane thought, a faint smirk tugging his lips.

“Alright, let me say it again, but clearer this time.”

His voice carried that firm, patient rhythm of a teacher.

“Settle into your stance—feet shoulder-width apart, guns steady in your grip. Don’t lock your body, don’t go limp either. Find the balance between tension and ease… alert, but not rigid. Now, breathe. Draw the air deep into your chest. With each breath, call your mana from every corner of your body and gather it behind your heart—the Stillpoint. Picture it as a bright ember pulsing in rhythm with your heartbeat. Each beat pushes that energy outward: through your arms, your legs, your senses.

When you exhale, let doubt and distraction slip away. What remains is a braided current of intent and mana—your body, your magic, your will aligned as one. If your focus slips, return to that ember behind your heart. Breathe again. Regain the Stillpoint. Stay there until your readiness hardens into instinct. That’s Convergent Stillpoint.”

He left Jax to wrestle with the instructions, his guns trembling slightly as he tried to steady his breath. Zane smirked once more and drifted toward the mages. They sat cross-legged, eyes closed, waiting.

“Listen closely,” he began again, his tone soft but commanding. “Tranquil Veil is more than calming yourself—it’s building a shield for the mind. Close your eyes. Breathe gently. Call your mana, not with force but with invitation—like mist rising from a still lake. Let that mist curl around your thoughts, a soft veil. With each inhale, thicken it, tighten it, shield your mind. With each exhale, release your worries, let them dissolve through the veil. When your focus wavers, strengthen it again, softer, gentler, quieter. Hold it until clarity takes over. That is Tranquil Veil.”

He watched them sink deeper into focus before moving toward the warriors. They stood in low stances, fists clenched, sweat already dripping.

“Good. Now listen. Iron Pulse begins here—feet rooted, body alert. Breathe with your heart. Sync the rhythm—inhale, mana flows inward, merging with your pulse. Each beat spreads power through your muscles, your nerves, your very bones. Exhale, tension falls away. Your body relaxes but sharpens—steady as steel, fluid as water.

If your mind shakes, return to the pulse. Let it anchor you. Stay with it until every fiber in you hums with calm strength. That is Iron Pulse—the warrior’s balance.”

Satisfied, Zane dusted his hands, then casually reached into his dimensional bag. Out came a beach chair, a wide umbrella stand, and finally a tall glass of juice. He set them up without shame, lounging back in the shade like he was on vacation.

Taking a long sip, he tilted his head toward the two groups and jax .

“Well, that’s that. Now it’s up to them.”

He reclined fully, the faint smirk back on his lips. “Let’s see how far they get.”

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[Jax’s POV]

Jax closed his eyes, his guns steady in his grip, and began to follow Professor Zane’s instructions to the letter. Inhale—draw the mana in. Exhale—release tension. Behind his heart, he could almost feel it forming: the Stillpoint.

But then—gone. The flow scattered, his focus slipped.

“Tch…” He clenched his jaw, refusing to lower his stance. Again.

He tried once more, guiding his breath, centering on the ember Zane described. For a moment, it flickered into being—but before it could settle, it shattered apart.

Frustration tightened in his chest. What am I doing wrong? Why won’t it stay? Why won’t it settle?

And then, as if Zane were standing right beside him again, the professor’s voice echoed through the haze of his thoughts. Calm, sharp, patient:

“Don’t cling to perfection. Feel the convergence. Use it the moment it forms.”

Jax’s eyes narrowed, the words striking deep. Why am I waiting for it to become perfect? Why do I even need it to settle?

He drew another breath. Mana gathered again, flickering like a fragile flame. This time, instead of forcing it still, he accepted it—raw, imperfect, alive. He let it flow.

The world shifted.

For the briefest split second, everything slowed. His heartbeats thundered in his ears, the weight of his guns felt sharper, his awareness stretched thin and wide. His focus was absolute.

And then—it vanished. The world snapped back, time rushing forward. His breath caught in his throat, but the Stillpoint remained behind his heart, steady and pulsing.

He blinked, stunned. It’s here. The Stillpoint is there… but that clarity—that world of slow motion—I only caught it for a moment. Why?

A shiver ran down his spine, equal parts fear and awe.

“That instant…” he whispered under his breath. “I could see everything.”

His grip tightened on his weapons. What the hell is this technique Professor Zane is teaching me…?

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[ Zane’s POV]

From the shade of his oversized umbrella, Zane lounged on the beach chair, one hand lazily holding a glass of juice. His gaze, however, remained sharp—tracking Jax even as he pretended to relax.

He noticed it: Jax’s eyes flicking open mid-exercise, the startled expression flashing across his face, confusion and awe tangled together.

Zane’s lips curved.

So, he used it, even if only for a heartbeat.

“He almost used the technique for a moment…” he murmured, setting the glass down. “Quite good.”

His gaze drifted toward another figure among the students—Ron, sweat dripping as he held his horse stance with grit and focus.

“Ron… he’s close too.”

The corner of Zane’s mouth tugged higher into a smile, deep purple eyes gleaming with quiet satisfaction.

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