Every ounce of mana inside me surged outward.
I wasn't just releasing it—I was pouring it into the air around me.
My core—small and fragile—emptied rapidly. I could feel the hollow growing inside my chest, like a candle burning itself out.
For a brief moment, I felt… weightless.
But then, something shifted.
The mana I had released wasn't dispersing—it was coming back.
Drawn toward me.
Pulled into me.
As if my body had become a void…
No—a starving beast that hadn't eaten in years. It devoured the mana, hungrily and without pause.
The world around me blurred. The wind slowed. The sounds faded.
Only the rushing, flooding sensation of mana mattered.
My core, once empty, was now full again—more than full.
But I didn't stop.
I kept absorbing.
Pain shot through my chest, sharp and hot like molten iron pouring into a glass container.
My core screamed in protest, trembling at its limit. And then—
Crack.
A faint fracture formed, deep within.
Like glass under pressure.
I clenched my teeth but refused to stop.
I wouldn't stop.
More mana surged in.
Crack. Crack. Crack.
Until—
BOOM!
My core shattered.
But instead of collapsing… my body held.
The mana didn't explode outward. It stayed. It lingered.
And then…
It began to rebuild.
The fragments of my old core spun, twisted, and merged into something new.
It wasn't just repaired.
It was reborn.
A new core formed in my chest—larger, deeper, and more stable.
Not twice the size… not even triple.
It felt like a whole new dimension had opened inside me.
The mana inside no longer burned painfully.
It flowed.
Smooth and strong. Like a river after a dam had burst.
I could feel it.
My body wasn't just stronger.
It was different.
The weight in my limbs, the tightness in my skin, the tension in my muscles—it had all changed.
Hardened. Reinforced. Empowered.
I opened my eyes slowly.
The world looked the same.
But I wasn't.
Now I understood why the protagonist in the novel described it the way he did.
I felt reborn.
My body, my veins, my muscles—even my bones—had changed. Hardened. Reinforced. Strengthened.
I clenched my fists.
And for the first time, I felt real power swelling inside them.
I stood up, exhaling slowly.
Then I kicked—just into the empty air.
Whoosh!
The wind screamed with the motion, my foot slicing through it like a blade.
It was smooth. Controlled. Strong.
I threw a punch next.
Crack!
The air broke around my knuckles like snapping twigs.
My movements were sharper. Heavier. Filled with raw force.
No sluggishness. No weakness.
I turned my eyes to the stone boulder nearby—the same one I'd trained against for weeks.
Blackened and cracked from my earlier spells. But still standing.
Not for long.
I raised my hand and focused.
Willed the fire.
In less than a second, a bright flame swirled to life—bigger, brighter, and hotter than ever before.
It didn't flicker like before.
It roared.
Then, with a thought, I sent it flying toward the boulder.
It shot forward like a meteor, trailing sparks in its path—
BOOM!
The explosion shook the ground.
Dust surged outward, smoke rising into the air.
When the haze cleared, I froze.
Half of the boulder was gone.
Not just cracked.
Obliterated.
My eyes widened, and a grin slowly spread across my face.
"This... this is real power," I whispered, breathless.
"My power."
I raised my hands to the sky and laughed—not out of arrogance, but out of pure, overwhelming joy.
For the first time since I arrived in this world...
I didn't feel helpless.
After calming myself, I took a breath and looked down at my body—then at the ground beneath my feet.
Silence.
Every knight on the training ground had stopped.
Their eyes were fixed on me.
I could feel their stares—sharp, questioning, surprised.
It seemed my awakening hadn't gone unnoticed.
Of course not. That explosion of mana? That shift in power?
It was perfect.
Well… maybe I was being a little narcissistic.
Still, I doubted most awakenings happened with such intensity, especially not alone. No guidance. No potion. No teacher.
But I knew what they were really thinking.
No matter how much I trained now, in their eyes—I was still the spoiled brat who'd arrived two months ago. The exiled noble. The useless burden.
I didn't blame them.
They had watched me suffer in silence, push myself until I collapsed—and still, I had never trained with them. Never earned their respect.
But now?
Now… their instructor had come.
A tall man with scars down his arm and authority in every step. His voice cut through the tension.
"Back to training!"
The knights obeyed immediately, returning to their drills like clockwork. But not before stealing one last glance at me.
Then the instructor turned his gaze toward me—sharp, narrowed, as if trying to see through me.
To measure me. Judge me.
Am I truly worth it?
Am I still that pampered, reckless child—or someone who belongs on this ground?
He studied me for a moment. Silent.
Then… he gave the slightest nod.
I returned the gesture.
Nothing more was said.
But something had changed.
I didn't know if it was approval, or simply acknowledgment.
But from now on… I would be training under him.
Because I had reached my limit with solo training. My current methods wouldn't be enough anymore.
If I wanted to keep growing—if I truly wanted power—
I needed real equipment. Real instruction.
And that meant… earning my place here.
For real this time.
After the knights resumed their training, I was left alone once more.
I let out a long breath and sat down beneath the tree—the same one I used to collapse under, too exhausted to move.
Now? Things were different.
I had advanced.
And it was time to see just how much.
"Status," I muttered.
A familiar, transparent screen appeared before me—its faint glow casting silver reflections in my eyes.
---
🞂 Status Screen 🞀
Name: Kael Thorne
Title(s): None
Potential: B+ (Dormant / Sealed)
Current Rank: E-
Trait(s): None
---
Affinity
→ Status: Analyzing ( ??? )
↳ Affinity not recognized.
↳ Potential interference detected… [Analysis Incomplete]
---
Attributes
Strength: E-
Agility: E-
Endurance: E-
Intelligence: E-
Mana Capacity: E-
Luck: ?
---
Skills
Intermediate Swordsmanship — Mastery: 70%
Intermediate Mana Control — Mastery: 10%
Perfect Insight (Passive) — F Rank
↳ Allows flawless memorization and replication of any technique or spell observed.
Stoic Resolve (Passive) — F Rank
↳ Suppresses emotions, maintains calm, and masks vulnerability under pressure.
---
Imperial Fang of Thorne (Spear Style)
→ [I] Fang Unleashed – Mastery: 75% (Basic)
→ [II] Fang Guard – Mastery: 15% (Basic)
Forms Mastered: 2/8
---
My eyes scanned the screen, slowly taking it all in.
All of my attributes had risen to E-. My rank had finally advanced.
It felt good… more than good. I had broken through the weakest level—a feat that once felt impossible.
My mana control had also evolved—from Basic (100%) to Intermediate (10%). The price of progression. The start of a harder, deeper journey.
But…
My Affinity was still a disappointment.
I had hoped that reaching E- rank would trigger its revelation. No luck.
It remained locked. Unknown.
"Potential interference detected…"
What interference? Is it something in my body? In my soul?
Even my Luck stat was still a mystery. No one really understood what it did, but those with high luck always seemed to defy death… and fate.
And the biggest mystery of all—my Potential.
B+ (Dormant/Sealed).
I didn't know how to unlock it. Most characters in the original novel never even reached their full potential, let alone broke its seal. Only the rarest few, those who suffered endlessly and climbed mountains of pain, managed to do it.
No potions. No blessings. Just suffering. Grit. Discipline.
I looked at the screen again.
The Imperial Fang of Thorne—my family's spear style—was still stuck at the same mastery. Two forms out of eight. No improvement in months. And to be honest… I didn't even know if I'd ever use it again.
Not because it was weak—far from it.
The Thorne spear style was a powerful and ancient art, filled with brutal elegance and sharp precision. But it wasn't for me. Not anymore.
I had chosen the sword.
And I simply didn't have the time—or stamina—to split my training between two paths. Not when I was still behind everyone else.
Right now, my swordsmanship was just basic forms. Slashes. Thrusts. Footwork. No proper style. No named techniques. No flow.
And that was a problem.
Because in this world, style mattered.
Real sword styles weren't just about technique—they were living legacies, refined by generations, often containing mystical power or momentum-enhancing forms. Some could cut boulders. Some could split flames. Some could absorb impact and counterattack.
Without a style, I was just swinging steel.
If I couldn't find a strong sword style soon… then maybe—just maybe—I'd have to go back to the spear. That was something for future me to worry about.
For now, I had something else to focus on.
---
I needed to start training with the knights.
The Commander never forbade me from joining them. I was the one who kept to myself. I chose isolation. I trained in shadows, away from the crowd, because I didn't have the strength to stand beside them.
But now?
Now I had advanced. My rank was E-.
And I had power.
Enough to stand alongside them. Maybe not as an equal—but enough to begin.
If I go to the Commander personally—if I ask him to let me train under his knights—I doubt he'll refuse.
No need to beg. No need to explain.
Just strength.
That's what matters here.
And for the first time since I came to this fortress… I might finally be ready to show it.