Ashen Ascension: The Divided Flame-Chapter 66: Understanding Skills

He quickly ate two, saving the third. The effect was almost immediate. Heat spread outward from his stomach. A faint pressure built beneath his skin, and he felt the strain in his shoulders and forearms begin to ease. The smaller cuts along his knuckles and ribs, injuries he had ignored during the hunt, started to close subtly, the raw sting dulling as the skin tightened.

As his soul circuit circulated through the Ember Seed, the warmth seemed to deepen rather than fade.

The ember at its center burned slightly brighter, and the heat in his muscles intensified. He flexed his fingers and rolled his shoulders. The soreness remained, yet it no longer felt limiting. His muscles carried a low, controlled heat, as though they had been reinforced from within.

He started training again. This time by plucking a leaf from the tree.

He pulled mana from his center and put a thin layer on his palm. At the same time, he kept a weak awareness active to warn him of anything approaching. He made himself breathe evenly and watched how the energy reacted as he breathed in and out.

The coating held.

He tried a more difficult mana control exercise. He pulled a thread of mana to his fingertip and suspended it in the air. It wavered, so he adjusted the flow and his breathing. It stabilized for a few seconds and then collapsed. He tried again, focusing more, and it lasted longer.

Next, he practiced drawing mana to both palms at once, giving them different densities: a thin, spread-out coating on one hand, and a compressed, heavy layer on the other. He moved his body slowly, maintaining both. When his focus slipped, one coating broke, but it returned when he steadied his mind.

This repetition taught him that while mana and soul were separate, a smooth-running soul circuit made controlling mana easier by stabilizing his body, mind, and breath. It was an influence he could shape.When he finally stopped, the moon had moved slightly, and the forest sounded the same. He took out the stolen scroll from the bag.

The title at the top was written in precise script.

"Flashstride : Foundational Acceleration Technique. Six Mana Nodes Required."

He read it three times because six nodes was a big cost. Six nodes meant commitment, which meant a permanent change with consequences he had to judge carefully. The first line under the title corrected a common mistake, as if the writer was tired of people using the wrong words.

"Flashstride is not speed enhancement. It is structured double-phase acceleration."

Ivor focused on the sentence because the distinction was important. "Speed enhancement" implied a forceful use of mana to speed up the body. "Double-phase acceleration" suggested a more structured, intentional effect. The scroll described the skill plainly.

The technique used two small, quick movements: a first push forward, then a second burst to adjust. The writer was honest, didn’t exaggerate, and didn’t offer easy answers. The benefits were listed clearly, like someone who understood real fighting and valued effectiveness.

Flashstride is a skill for quickly closing a short distance and changing direction mid-movement, offering better control than single-burst moves.

Because it relies on precision rather than brute force, Ivor knew it was designed for a controlled, strategic user, someone who wants to be in the perfect spot before their opponent even realizes they are at risk.

Then the scroll listed disadvantages with the same bluntness, as if it had no patience for optimism.

Poor alignment in the first burst led to instability.

Mana compression caused knee and hip recoil.

Early users often lost balance between bursts, showing turbulent mana as visible distortion. The warning stressed that incorrect compression overlap could permanently damage mana nodes. This damage was serious and lasting, going beyond simple pain or bruising.

The writer stressed this key idea: "Flashstride feels fast only when the body remains stable. Instability makes it slower than running."

Ivor thought about the reasons why other boys must have struggled. They were stepping too heavily and loudly, using too much effort for speed. The scroll said this made them unstable and, ironically, slower than they intended. They were losing stability and speed.

Another warning followed, short enough to sound like a rule rather than advice.

"Flashstride rewards restraint more than aggression."

Ivor liked that. He didn’t like aggressive or angry speed unless it was necessary. He reread the first part to understand the technique, then moved on.

The second section was titled plainly, and it changed from explanation to mechanics without any soft transition.

The scroll showed a simple, precise diagram with six nodes for a lower-body circuit: two hip anchors, two thigh stabilizers, and two ankle release points. The skill starts with mana circulating in a closed lower loop, which is the foundation.

The sequence involves drawing and splitting mana from the core, compressing it in the rear ankle before a ’displacement’ burst.

The user then controls the recoil, stabilizes at the hips, redirects to the forward leg, and triggers a smaller second burst. Mastery depends on the ’correction interval’ between bursts, the moment of control, not just the bursts themselves, which explains why many fail.

A side note sat in smaller script beside the diagram, like a warning the writer had added after watching too many trainees ruin themselves.

"If mana does not return cleanly to the core after activation, control is insufficient."

Ivor studied the mana circulation path. The training section was strict, starting with: Do not commit nodes until the circulation loop is stable.

Then it mentioned the steps:

Practice dry lower-loop circulation until ten clean returns are achieved.Learn ankle compression without releasing it.Master absorbing recoil in the hip nodes.

Only stabilize the loop before attuning permanent nodes. The scroll warned that most node damage occurs from rushing, mistaking desire for readiness.

Ivor paused, practicing with his eyes closed. He felt safe in the calm forest.

He carefully guided a thin stream of mana from his core down toward his right hip. The flow kept failing before it reached his thigh. He realized this path was harder to control than the shorter one he’d used before for his palm.

On the third try, he sent mana to both legs, making the mana feel heavier. It resisted being compressed near his ankle because his control was uneven there. He adjusted the pressure instead of forcing it, holding the flow steady until he began to form the complete loop.

Core to hip, hip to thigh, thigh to ankle, ankle to return.

His return wasn’t quite right; it made him feel wobbly, which meant the practice loop wasn’t clean. He stopped and started over, refusing to get into the bad habit of sloppy energy flow.

He tried again, slower, breathing steadily, keeping his mind calm, and he completed one clean loop.

Then he tried a second. The third one almost failed at the knee, but he fixed it before it broke. On the fourth try, the mana came back smoothly with very little shaking, and he paused to feel the good change.

He realized something. The important skill wasn’t the sudden burst. The important skill was the flow of mana.

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I’m still editing the privilege Chapter. Midway through, I decided to change something, so it will take about half a day more. I’ll be dropping 55+ Chapters once it’s ready.