Chapter 8: Foundation
The phone screen glowed faintly in the quiet of Aurelia Frost's bedroom.
Her pale fingers tightened on the device as she reread Michael's single message.
---
Michael:
I haven't heard of the physics student named Willson you mentioned. Perhaps you could ask someone else.
---
"Ask… someone else?"
The words replayed in her mind, harsher each time.
Her brows knitted. That was it? No warmth, no extra word, no attempt to keep the conversation alive?
Since Awakening Day, she had felt it. Michael's voice, his gaze, his entire presence toward her—had become distant. It wasn't the calm detachment she once admired. No, it was deliberate. A wall.
Why?
Her thumb hovered. And before she realized it, she pressed the voice call button.
The line connected almost instantly.
---
"Hey, what's up?"
The voice that came through was the same as always—clear, steady, unshaken. The kind of voice that had once made her heart lift in unexplainable ways.
But this time… it cut against her like cold water.
Aurelia swallowed, hiding the sting behind her usual icy tone.
"No, I just wanted to ask if you know any Physics students named Willson."
"I really don't know him. I've never heard of him."
Michael's reply was calm, clipped, businesslike. As if this conversation was nothing more than a distraction.
"…All right."
Aurelia nodded faintly, even though he couldn't see her. Silence stretched, heavy and awkward.
Michael frowned at his desk, cursor blinking over lines of herb data. He was about to hang up when her voice suddenly cut through the quiet.
---
"Michael," Aurelia asked softly, "have you ever thought about what to do in the future?"
---
Her words were like the frost that coated plum blossoms in winter—cold, lonely, yet carrying a trace of hidden fragrance.
Michael leaned back in his chair, setting the phone to speaker, his eyes still on his screen.
"Later? Later is too far away. I haven't thought about it yet."
Click-clack. His fingers tapped the keyboard. He barely spared her question a thought.
But Aurelia clenched her phone, nails biting into her skin.
Escaping again.
"You can escape temporarily now," she said, her voice tightening, "but when you face the college entrance examination, can you still escape?"
"I didn't run away."
Michael's tone was flat. Absolute.
---
She froze. The sound of keys tapping in the background made it feel as if he was only half-listening. Her heart twisted.
Has he really fallen this low?
Her emotions tangled—pity, anger, something else she didn't dare name. But beneath it all was the conviction that she had to… help him.
---
"Michael," she began again, her voice softer, almost pleading. "You need to face reality. Your talent is E-rank. Since there's no hope, you must learn to be brave in another way."
"There are always other paths. You could become a top chef—shine in state banquets. A doctor, saving lives. A lawyer, standing for justice. Not everyone needs to fight dungeons. Ordinary lives can still burn brightly. Isn't that enough?"
---
She meant every word. She truly believed she was helping. But in Michael's ears, it was only noise.
He muted the phone, let her speak to silence. Only when her voice finally fell quiet did he unmute.
---
"Are you done?"
His voice was as calm as ever, but this time, sharper.
"Aurelia Frost, I appreciate your kindness. But I have my own goals."
He paused, eyes gleaming faintly as he stared at his notes.
"I will take the college entrance examination copy. And I will apply to Eclipse Academy."
"…What are you talking about?"
---
For once, Aurelia's composure cracked.
Her breath caught. Her pupils shrank.
Had she heard correctly?
Michael—an E-rank support—daring to say he would step into the most dangerous dungeon exam in Avalora?
Eclipse Academy, the pinnacle of all academies, where only A-rank talents were said to even have a chance?
Even she wasn't certain she would pass…
"Michael, you…"
Her lips trembled. Her mind refused to believe it.
He was serious. His voice carried no hesitation, no bravado—only cold certainty.
---
"Michael," she tried again, her tone urgent now, "listen to me—"
Click.
The line went dead.
A message followed.
---
Michael:
If you still want to persuade me, then there's no need to say anything more.
Thank you. I've made up my mind.
---
"You—!"
Aurelia's voice trembled. She bit her lip, her perfect teeth pressing against the pale rose flesh until it hurt.
Why? Why is he like this?
He had always been rational. Always calm. But now… now he was stubborn, reckless, unreachable.
Her chest rose and fell, breaths uneven.
---
After a long time, she opened another contact.
"Selena."
The line connected. A cheerful voice filled her ear.
"Auri! What's wrong? Calling me this late?"
"Michael said… he wants to apply to Eclipse Academy."
"…Ohhh."
Selena Braveheart's tone instantly shifted into a smirk. "So that's what's going on. Hehe."
---
"Stop laughing," Aurelia snapped, her icy mask cracking into frustration. "I'm serious. What do you think it means?"
"What do I think?" Selena giggled. "Obviously, he's chasing you."
"…What?"
"Oh, come on. Don't play dumb. He looks cold on the outside, but inside? He clearly doesn't want to be left behind. He wants to stand at your side, Aurelia. To go where you go."
"Shut up."
Aurelia's tone was sharp, but her heart skipped a beat.
Selena only laughed harder.
"You're blushing, aren't you?"
"I said, shut up!"
---
Her denial was firm, but her heart was chaos.
"Michael and I… are from two different worlds now," Aurelia whispered, half to herself. "Even if he lets go of his pride, I could help him. But in martial arts… no one can help."
Her voice turned steel again. "Forget it. The most important thing is still to find that student surnamed Willson. Whether he and Michael are the same or not, he's the one we must secure before anyone else does."
Selena's laughter faded, replaced by a confident hum.
"Don't worry. I've already sent people to ask around. We'll know soon. And when we do ,he'll be yours."
Aurelia's gaze grew cold, her heart tightening as she whispered to herself:
Michael… what are you hiding from me?
-----
Night deepened over Aurion City.
Neon lights painted streaks of violet and gold across the skyline, but in Michael's small apartment, the only light came from his computer screen.
Lines of data flickered across the monitor of herbal compositions, alchemical fusion ratios, guild-patented formulas.
Michael sat hunched forward, eyes sharp, fingers dancing across the keyboard.
Others might be wasting their post-awakening days celebrating or despairing. But he… he was mapping the road forward.
"Three parts astral moss, one part sun-ash root…" he murmured. "No, that clashes with the frost lotus base. Too volatile. Swap for moon-grain powder… yes. That stabilizes."
He scribbled notes, every motion precise.
Alchemy had always been a subject most considered auxiliary, secondary, support. But Michael knew better. With the right formula, alchemy could rewrite the limits of a body.
---
He leaned back, rubbing his eyes. On the corner of his desk sat three empty potion bottles the improved spirit-strengthening agents he'd tested earlier.
Even now, the lingering warmth of power pulsed faintly in his veins.
This world measures people by the first number they see the rank stamped at awakening. But if I can refine my own growth…
His lips curved faintly.
Then who's really the fool?
---
By the time his notes filled another two pages, the clock struck past midnight. Michael shut the laptop with a soft click, leaving only the sound of his steady breathing in the dark.
Sleep took him quickly.
---
The next morning—
CRACK!
Michael shot upright, confused.
Something groaned beneath him, then—BANG!
The bed collapsed.
He stared down. His hand had pressed against the wooden frame without much force. Yet the entire board had splintered under his palm, reduced to jagged shards.
"…?"
Michael blinked. He hadn't even exerted himself.
He flexed his hand experimentally. The veins beneath his skin thrummed, faint golden light flickering like hidden lightning.
He stood, and the floor creaked ominously under his weight—not from heaviness, but from sheer density of force.
A wave of strength, raw and untamed, coursed through him.
"…A power surge."
---
In the history of the mana revival, "power surges" were both miracle and nightmare.
Normally, growth was linear: train, level, upgrade. But sometimes, rarely, one's body rebelled against its own limits. Mana circuits tore, restructured, reforged themselves overnight.
The result: an explosive increase in strength, speed, resilience.
And chaos.
Records told of a farmer's son in Dawn Province who woke to a surge and accidentally crushed his brother with a pat on the back. A miner in Aetherfall Province who sneezed and shattered the cavern roof, burying twenty men alive.
Uncontrolled surges were unpredictable sometimes blessings, often tragedies. Guilds feared them. Academies studied them. Families either prayed for them or locked their children away.
But one truth was constant:
A power surge only happened in those whose roots ran deeper than their awakening rank suggested.
---
Michael stood among the wreckage of his bed, his heart calm, but his eyes blazing.
"So, even my body refuses to stay E-rank."
His lips curved. A humorless smile.
He flexed again, watching faint sparks crawl along his knuckles before fading. His experience bar from the spirit-strengthening potion had already pushed him to the edge of advancement.
If this is just the beginning… then what will happen when I truly unleash it?
---
Michael gathered himself, sweeping the broken wood aside. He couldn't afford to let anyone neighbors, classmates, even his sister Emily—see the truth yet.
For now, he would remain the "E-rank support nobody."
He dressed quickly, slinging his worn bag over his shoulder, but paused by the mirror.
The reflection staring back at him was the same: black hair falling into calm eyes, lean build, faint shadows under his gaze.
Yet… the air around him had shifted. His presence carried weight. His every breath seemed sharper, deeper.
"…Good."
Michael adjusted his collar. "Then let them underestimate me."
---
Far across the city, in the Frost estate, Aurelia Frost finished her morning meditation, unaware of the shiver of power awakening in the one boy she had just tried to persuade to
"accept reality."