The commander sat alone in his office, pen scratching faintly against parchment. He had shown Kael his technique earlier, urging him to practice and awaken aura. The boy had potential his bloodline carried the spark, and his eyes carried the will. Determination. Tenacity. Hardship etched into his bones. The commander had seen enough to believe.
That was why he had chosen to guide him.
He did not like the current head of House Thorne. He had sworn his oath of service long ago to the former patriarch, Cedric Thorne, a man he had respected beyond measure. But fate played its cruel trick. Cedric died, and the oath chained him to Cedric's son… a man unworthy of the name. The commander despised his methods, but he could do nothing. His word was shackles, binding him until death.
So he made his choice: he would take Kael under his wing, and pass on what his own master Lord Cedric Thorne had once taught him.
He turned his eyes toward the training ground. Nothing. No movement. He knew Kael wouldn't awaken aura so quickly. It would take months at least. But he kept that to himself. What Kael needed to learn first was something rarer than power—perseverance. He would let the boy struggle, let him taste failure. Only when Kael stood on the verge of giving up would he lend his hand. That would be the real lesson.
With that thought, he bent back to his papers.
Then he felt it.
A ripple in the mana. Fleeting. Here one moment, gone the next. But it was there. Clear. The kind of disturbance only an S-rank awakened could cause.
And it had come from the training ground.
Where Kael was.
The commander didn't waste a breath. His figure vanished from the office and appeared before the sealed training ground. With a single push, he threw the doors open.
Here's a refined version of your scene, keeping the dramatic tone, pacing, and atmosphere intact while polishing flow, grammar, and emotional weight:
Inside the training ground, Kael lay sprawled on the ground, unconscious.
Commander Arvell walked toward him, his heavy boots echoing against the silent hall. His gaze settled on Kael's still body then froze.
His eyes widened.
The air around Kael was different. Alive. A faint, invisible pressure rippled out from him, brushing against the commander's skin like a sharp blade.
"…Aura."
The word slipped from his lips in disbelief.
Kael… had awakened aura.
And not after months of grueling training, not after years of struggle he had done it in a single day.
Arvell's chest tightened. Even he, a veteran who had bled on countless battlefields, had never seen something like this. The potency of that aura raw, unrefined, but heavy, full of promise.
For so long, he had doubted this boy. He thought Kael would break under the weight of expectation, that he would never rise beyond mediocrity. Yet now, lying unconscious, Kael had shattered every assumption.
A chuckle escaped the commander's throat. Low at first, then louder, echoing through the empty ground.
"Haha so it begins."
He knelt down, lifting Kael's limp body into his arms. But even as he carried him toward the infirmary, his mind was racing.
This boy was no ordinary talent.
Talents like him never stay silent. They shake the world. They change it.
And Kael Thorne's future would be boundless.
I woke on the infirmary bed, the ceiling above me bathed in faint morning light. My mind was still hazy, fragments of yesterday's torment flashing back—the unbearable pressure, the suffocating darkness, the agony Noctharion had forced upon me. Just remembering it sent a shiver crawling down my spine.
But the result… it was worth it.
I could feel it pulsing within me now. Aura.
For the first time, I had truly awakened. The foundation for my swordsmanship was finally real.
I pulled up my attributes, anticipation building.
---
Attributes
Strength: D
Agility: D-
Endurance: D
Intelligence: D-
Mana Capacity: B-
Aura: B-
Luck: ?
Everything else remained as it had been… except for the shining new line. Aura. And it wasn't just there it was at B- rank, two full major steps above my current level. Even my mana had risen.
Noctharion's words echoed in my mind: For you, mana and aura are one. They will grow together.
I couldn't help but laugh, low and unsteady, at the absurdity of it. After so much suffering, here it was—proof of change.
But then my stomach roared like an angry beast, demanding tribute.
"…Right. Food first."
I slid off the bed, legs still stiff, and made my way toward the mess hall. Training could wait a little longer.
After finishing my meal at the mess hall, I found myself once again standing in the private training ground. The commander had granted me access to this place so I could come and train at any time. A privilege, but also a reminder of the expectations pressing on my shoulders.
Now, it was time to test something new.
Aura.
I sat down on the cold ground, closed my eyes, and steadied my breathing. My focus shifted inward, to the core pulsing faintly within me.
With a single thought, the energy stirred. Waves of power coursed through my body, flooding my veins and spreading outward. The air around me trembled.
When I opened my eyes, a faint glow shimmered across my skin.
Light soft yet sharp spilled into the air, its color clear.
Purple.
A visible aura, radiating from me like a second skin.
Every person's aura was different, unique to them like a signature. The protagonist in the original story possessed a golden aura, blazing like sunlight. The commander's aura shone pure white, commanding and resolute.
And mine…
Mine was purple.
I pushed myself to my feet, the faint hum of aura still clinging to my skin like static. Drawing a slow breath, I willed it to wrap around me, dense and heavy. My veins burned, my body screamed, but the energy obeyed.
I clenched my fist.
The aura surged, coating it in a faint shimmer.
Vish—vish—boom!
The air cracked as I punched forward. A violent current tore through the room, rattling the wooden frame and making dust rain from the ceiling. The sound of impact echoed like distant thunder.
A grin tugged at my lips.
Five minutes passed. My arms trembled, but my control sharpened with each attempt. The aura was no longer wild it was beginning to bend, beginning to listen.
Sweat dripped down my forehead as I reached for a sword lying nearby. Its cold steel gleamed faintly in the dim light. I tightened my grip, channeling aura into the blade.
At first, the sword trembled violently, as though rejecting the surge of energy I was forcing into it. The flow was too rough, too unrefined any moment, it could snap.
But I steadied my breathing, narrowing my focus. Slowly, carefully, I adjusted the circulation, trimming away the excess, weaving the aura into balance. The trembling lessened, the vibrations dulled, until at last the blade grew still in my hand stabilized, obedient.
This was why I used this sword instead of my katana. If I had misstepped even slightly, the katana would have shattered.