Aidan was now in his room on a chair, thinking about the conversation he heard from the guards as he thought about his conversation with Matthew. From his explanation about Restorix, the potion had properties—such as liquefied mana in a small amount, as well as other things—which accelerated healing and amplified aura's effects, even without a core.
Aidan's eyes narrowed as he caught a word he'd missed before. "Amplifies," he mumbled. Tapping the armrest with his finger, he said aloud, "What if it does the same thing happen even if someone haven't awaken the aura? Wouldn't that mean if I take the potion, it'll amplify my aura—helping me sense it much sooner?"
Aidan's eyes widened before he began pacing the room, frustrated, his thoughts racing. Matthew should be aware of this. So why didn't he say anything? Unable to find an answer, Aidan made up his mind—he would get that potion. He stopped mid-step, a new thought creeping in. His fist clenched.
There was no hesitation in him. He had done far worse to his body back on Earth. The power to perform superhuman feats with one's own body was tempting enough to make people kill one another—and here, all he needed to do was break a single bone.
It was a small price to pay. So why would he hesitate? Hesitate for what? For pain? He laughed at that notion. Pain was something he was far too familiar with. He would take the pain head-on. He never feared physical pain, and it was easy to take and easy to heal.
He shook his head, not wanting to remember unpleasant memories.
The next day, Aidan could be seen on the training field standing beside Matthew.
Matthew's gaze swept over Aidan as the boy stood quietly, lost in thought. His physique had sharpened—lean muscle, steady posture—far more developed than others his age. He was shaping up well.
Matthew didn't hand out praise easily. In fact, he avoided it. Too many start slacking the moment they're told they're doing well. He hated that. But credit where it was due—Aidan had earned his recognition. Not once had the boy asked for a day off. No complaints, no shortcuts. Just relentless effort.
Good, Matthew thought. He's learning the right way—no handouts, no excuses. Just the grind.
And in Matthew's eyes, he was doing well to respect his father's legacy.
He respected Liam too much to go easy on his son. He would have been devastated if his mentor's son turned out to be an incompetent fool. He smiled, happy as he looked at Aidan.
Matthew smiled faintly as he asked, "What's your regimen for today?" Aidan glanced at the dummies, then at Matthew, saying, "Just the usual."
Matthew nodded as he moved on from Aidan. He had earned his trust in more ways than one, and he was an instructor, not a babysitter to hold his hand at every exercise.
Aidan smirked as he looked at Matthew's back and mumbled, "Sorry, Matthew." He knew the one who would be blamed by Sophia wasn't him—it was Matthew. A flicker of guilt passed through him, but what could he do? He was just doing what he had to—for himself. I'll pay him back someday, he added in his heart before starting his exercises.
He started with a light warm-up set before moving on to harder exercises. First, he did a slow jog, then picked up the pace to a faster one. After that, he moved on to strength, endurance, and core exercises.
The sun shone brightly as the morning deepened, its light falling on his body and the ground. The recruits trained hard, a glistening layer of sweat beginning to appear on their skin under the rising heat.
Aidan went through his stances—both weapon and hand-to-hand—before walking up to one of the dummies called the wooden striking pole. He punched it in one swift motion. One thing he had noticed was how strong his body already was for a six-and-a-half-year-old.
Unlike Earth, where even one punch could cause slight pain, here, after a few days of training, his hand seemed numb to it.
He had a feeling that the humans of Maaya had much higher strength and body limits compared to Earth's. It probably had something to do with mana or aura—he wasn't sure yet.
After doing a few jabs, Aidan paused and looked around for nearby recruits or guards. His plan was simple. He was going to break his wrist. It would cause enough of a scene to alert the castle and bring attention to him. But before that happened, he needed to get the potion.
He glanced around at the recruits, hoping to move before Matthew or anyone else arrived. Aidan had already checked—Matthew wasn't here, probably busy in another part of the training ground, likely with the Rank One class.
This was the moment for him to act.
He took a stance and punched again, but his wrist bent unnaturally on impact. Pain shot through it, sharp and immediate, beneath the pain, a single thought pulsed through his mind—this better be worth it, he thought, seeing it wasn't broken—yet.
Gritting his teeth, he struck again. His wrist and hand started to go numb. Aidan flexed his fingers—they still moved. That wasn't enough.
He struck once more.
This time, a crack echoed in the air. His wrist bent inward, almost touching his forearm.
Unable to control himself any longer, Aidan screamed, drawing the attention of the recruits.
Some of them immediately rushed toward him, alarmed by the sight of his tears and the unnatural bend of his wrist. Not all reacted—only those who had trained under Matthew and understood the consequences. If anything happened to Aidan, their heads would roll.
Unlike Captain Matthew, a Rank Three being, they were just common guards. They reached him in seconds, using aura to boost their speed. Kneeling beside him, one of them examined his wrist and immediately shouted, "Go get Captain Matthew!" Aidan wailed, thrashing in pain. "Give me the potion! Hurry!" he screamed, tears streaming down his face.
"AHHH! AHH! AHH!"
The guard who had given the order hesitated—protocol wasn't clear. But when Aidan shouted, "That's my order!" he shot a quick look at another and barked, "Go! Get the potion!" Normal guards like them had no option but to comply.
The man complied without delay, sprinting to the supply room and returning seconds later with a bottle in hand. Another guard helped Aidan sit up and drink. As the last drop passed his lips, Aidan looked up—Matthew now stood in front of him, his expression unreadable, eyes cold and fixed on him.