After attempting the magic, my legs swayed unsteadily, as if the ground itself had become a treacherous sea. Each step felt like walking on ice, my vision swimming with shifting shapes at the edges of my awareness. A strange, nauseating heat pressed against my chest, and my heart thumped like a drum gone mad.
*Fucking hell…* I cursed under my breath, teeth gritting. I had completely forgotten about the dangers of overusing resonance. Every warning from the books now rang in my ears, each one sharper than the last. That was my mistake—my foolish, arrogant mistake.
Darkness crept in like a tide from the corners of my vision, swallowing light, sound, and reason alike. My muscles gave way beneath me, and I collapsed, my body going slack as unconsciousness claimed me.
---
When awareness returned, it was to a familiar, grounding voice cutting through the fog of my mind.
"Hey, hey, son, are you okay? Don't worry us like that," Richard's deep, measured tone reached me, thick with concern and restrained panic.
I blinked, forcing my eyes to focus. My throat was raw, each word rasping painfully as I croaked out, "Hah… hah… I'm okay. Probably just… because I was hungry."
From beside him, my mother leaned forward, brows drawn tight in worry, her hands brushing against mine. "Hmm… you do look a little pale, honey. Don't move too much. Let me get you something to eat."
Their warmth struck me harder than the dizziness ever could. For a brief, fleeting moment, despite my exhaustion, a deep, quiet comfort spread through my chest. Their care was something I'd never take lightly.
"Thanks, Mother," I murmured, sincerity softening my voice.
Richard gave a faint, proud smile, his tense shoulders relaxing slightly. "Now, rest for today. Tomorrow… tomorrow we'll begin your training."
"Training?" I echoed, curiosity pricking through my fatigue.
"Yeah," he said, straightening a little. "Training for swordsmanship. Don't you know? Your father isn't just any knight. I'm a special knight."
"Okay… but what does a 'special knight' actually do?" I asked, tilting my head, intrigued despite the lingering shakiness in my limbs.
His eyes gleamed, pride and resolve interwoven. "We hunt corrupt nobles, take down monsters that threaten villages, and handle missions far too dangerous or delicate for ordinary knights. Ordinary soldiers simply couldn't touch some of the jobs we get."
I nodded slowly, letting his words sink in. "Hmm… alright. I guess that makes sense."
---
After finishing the meal my mother had lovingly prepared—each bite tasting like safety, warmth, and a little piece of home—I rose and made my way toward the book room. My legs were still unsteady, but my mind had already shifted entirely to the pressing question: *What had I done wrong?*
The answer, I suspected, lay hidden in the warnings I had skimmed too carelessly before. Pulling the familiar leather-bound volume from the shelf, I flipped to the section on magical hazards, letting the candlelight dance across the pages.
---
**Resonance Burn** – Holding magic too long damages both body and mind.
**Emotion Match** – A mismatch between emotion and the desired effect can cause magic to fail—or worse, backfire catastrophically.
**Corruption** – Overusing a single Echelon can warp your personality… or even your body itself.
---
I frowned, scanning the explanations. *So more than one Echelon influences emotions at once,* the text elaborated, detailing subtle interactions between the seven layers.
"So that's why I felt that rush of excitement when I used flame magic…" I muttered, rubbing my temples. The earlier surge, the heat and elation, suddenly made sense—but now it carried the weight of danger.
The night deepened around me. The only illumination came from a solitary candle flickering in the dim room, casting long, quivering shadows across the shelves. Page after page revealed the intricate structure of the Echelon system—seven layers, each escalating in power and responsibility:
1. **Beginner** – Basic control over a single Echelon.
2. **Intermediate** – Greater precision, ability to combine minor techniques.
3. **Advanced** – Fluid execution; small feats of mastery possible.
4. **Master** – True command over an Echelon; can sustain multiple effects.
5. **King** – Exceptional power; can influence environments and large-scale events.
6. **Emperor** – Limitless manipulation within Echelons; can challenge even small nations.
7. **Demigod** – Reality-bending power: destroy planets, halt time, obliterate entire continents.
I paused at the final level, eyes widening.
*Demigods can destroy entire planets…* My lips parted in disbelief. The magnitude of that power dwarfed my clumsy, reckless attempt at flame magic earlier. My previous failure now seemed almost laughable… if it weren't so dangerous.
My eyelids grew heavy. The candlelight blurred into a soft haze, shadows melting into the corners of my vision. Somewhere between one sentence and the next, my consciousness slipped away, surrendering to sleep.
---
Morning arrived far too quickly.
"Arthur! Wake up! Time for training!" my father's voice called from outside my door, clear and insistent.
"Oh… it's already time?" I thought, still half-dreaming, forcing my eyes open to meet the early morning light spilling through the window.
---
In the backyard, Richard stood tall, arms crossed, sunlight glinting off his eyes with an intensity I couldn't ignore.
"So, Arthur," he began, his voice steady, "it's time to start building you up. Your body's still undeveloped, so we'll begin with physical training. Once your foundation is solid, we'll move on to swordsmanship and eventually to integrating your resonance with combat."
I simply nodded, mentally bracing myself for whatever awaited.
The next hour blurred into a relentless rhythm: running drills, push-ups, squats, and endless repetitions. Each breath burned my lungs, every muscle protested, but I refused to stop. The sweat trickled down my face, soaking my shirt, stinging my eyes, yet I pressed on.
Richard watched, his expression a mixture of surprise, pride, and something almost like awe. "I'm genuinely impressed. You didn't complain once. You just… kept going."
I smirked, exhaustion making the gesture both painful and satisfying. "Of course. Who do you think I am? I ain't no weakling."
"That's my son," he said, a grin spreading across his face. "Good job today. This is just the beginning. Our training will continue for three months, every day without fail. You will be prepared for what's coming, mark my words."
Hearing the genuine pride in his voice, a strange warmth spread through my chest. The ache in my muscles and the sting in my lungs suddenly felt worth it. This was no longer just practice—it was the first step toward something greater, something that might one day make me strong enough to command my own destiny.