Jake woke up coughing.
Not the sharp, passing kind. This was deep—violent—like something was tearing its way out of his chest. His lungs burned. His throat felt raw, scraped dry from hours of strain.
He lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the familiar surge of mana to wash it away.
It didn't.
That alone made his stomach sink.
For days after the incident—after the Demon General, after Flo's revelation—something had been wrong. He'd ignored it. Brushed it off as exhaustion. After all, his mana always regenerated. Pain never lasted.
But this felt different.
Jake pushed himself up and swung his legs off the bed. The room tilted slightly, then steadied. He stood.
His knees buckled.
He caught himself on the wall, breathing hard. His body felt heavier than it should, like gravity had quietly doubled overnight.
"Great," he muttered, forcing a step forward.
He made it halfway to the kitchen before the world went black.
Thud.
The sound echoed far louder than it should have.
—
Jake came to with a sharp sting against his cheek.
"Don't move."
Kale's voice. Firm. Irritated.
He groaned. "Wasn't planning on it."
"You collapsed," Kale snapped. "Again. How long were you planning to keep this to yourself?"
Jake opened his eyes. He was lying on the floor, a faint circle of runes glowing beneath him. Kale knelt beside him, one hand hovering over his chest, the other already forming another spell.
Flo stood a few steps away.
She was shaking.
Her breathing came in short, uneven gasps. One hand was pressed to her chest, the other clutching at her cloak like it was the only thing keeping her upright.
"Flo?" Jake tried to sit up.
"Stay down," Kale ordered, then paused.
Flo coughed.
Once.
Twice.
Then violently—so hard she had to drop to one knee.
"Bring… my pouch," Flo gasped. "Please—"
Before Jake could react, Kale's attention snapped to her.
The air changed.
Kale's eyes sharpened, pupils narrowing as mana flared around her like drawn steel. In one swift motion, she crossed the distance and grabbed Flo by the hair, yanking her head back.
"You didn't say this part," Kale said coldly. "Mana withdrawal doesn't look like this."
Flo cried out, hands clawing at Kale's wrist. "I did—! Yesterday—I explained—!"
Jake forced himself upright despite the protest in his chest. "Kale! Stop!"
Kale didn't release her immediately. Her grip tightened.
"So you're a mana-sucking rat," Kale continued. "Feeding off him without permission."
Flo shook her head violently. "No—! I warned you—both of you—!"
Jake grabbed Kale's arm. "Enough!"
The pressure in the room snapped.
Kale released Flo, shoving her away. Flo collapsed to the floor, coughing, gasping like she'd been pulled from deep water.
Silence followed.
Then Kale turned back to Jake.
Her expression had changed.
Not anger.
Concern.
She pressed her palm against his chest again—and this time, her mana plunged inward.
Jake screamed.
It felt like something slammed shut inside him.
His mana pool—vast, endless, always surging—was suddenly sealed. Cut off. The warmth vanished, replaced by a hollow ache that made his vision blur.
Kale pulled back sharply.
"Your mana," she said slowly. "It's the problem."
Flo finally managed to breathe. "I told you," she whispered. "Jake's mana is too pure."
Kale nodded grimly. "Purity that high isn't nourishment. It's poison."
Jake swallowed hard. "Poison… to who?"
"To her," Kale said. "Not you. You regenerate endlessly. She doesn't."
Flo wiped her mouth with trembling fingers. "If taken directly… the body starts rejecting its own mana. It thinks it's an invader."
Kale's jaw tightened. "Mana isolation."
The words hung heavy.
"So," Jake said quietly, "every time she feeds…"
"She risks killing herself," Kale finished.
Flo didn't deny it.