The next morning came quicker than expected. Maybe it was because I hadn't slept much, my head buried in the old books scattered across the study table. Pages filled with scribbles, diagrams, and faint charcoal marks lay before me my attempt at recreating the martial arts from my past life.
It wasn't easy trying to recall movements that once came naturally. My new body was smaller, softer, and lacked the muscle memory I once relied on. Still, I wrote, erased, and wrote again. The ink bled into the paper, but the ideas stayed sharp.
Just as I finished sketching a stance, a familiar voice echoed down the hall.
"Virel! What are you doing in the study room this early?!" my mother shouted, her tone half-scolding, half-worried.
I flinched. "I'm just… doing a little reading!"
Mom sighed from the doorway, her arms crossed and her expression softening as she peeked at the messy table. "Reading? It looks more like you're trying to rewrite history, sweetheart."
I laughed awkwardly. "Maybe I am."
She gave me one last suspicious look before heading out. "Don't stay cooped up all morning. Go get some air."
And so, I did.
Outside, the morning sun spilled warmth across the yard. My father wasn't around I'd overheard he had gone to the Ironheart Inn to meet someone. That meant I had the perfect opportunity to train without interruption.
I made my way to a small clearing near the edge of the forest. The air was cool, the earth damp beneath my feet.
Drawing a line in the dirt, I picked up a wooden branch and raised it like a sword.
"If I can't use mana," I muttered, tightening my grip, "then I'll master what I can use."
I took a deep breath and began to move slow, deliberate swings, stepping through forms I remembered from long ago. My arms trembled, my balance wavered, but the rhythm of motion calmed my restless thoughts.
Each strike sliced through the air with growing precision. Each stance felt more natural than the last.
For a moment, I could almost forget the emptiness in my chest the fractured core that refused to hold mana.
---
Voices snapped me out of my focus.
"Hey, isn't that Virel Ludin?"
I turned slightly. Three boys stood near the fence, whispering and laughing among themselves.
"I heard he can't even feel mana," one of them said.
"Yeah, my dad said he's broken or something," another snickered.
Their words stung, though I'd long grown used to whispers like that. I focused back on my stance, pretending not to hear.
"Let's go mess with him," said the red-haired one clearly their leader, judging by his confident smirk and the way the others followed him.
---
Virel Ludin's POV
If I can't use mana, then I'll choose the sword. Working the path of either an Enhancer or a Manifester would be ideal, but if mana rejects me… then a Manifester's path is already out of reach.
Still, what about an Enhancer?
If I could somehow circulate mana through my body even a little maybe I could strengthen myself physically, like the warriors of old.
I sat cross-legged on the grass, focusing on my breathing. Slowly, I tried to draw mana into my body, guiding it toward my fractured core not to form it, but to spread it evenly across my limbs.
"Tch…!" I winced. It felt like tiny needles piercing through my veins. My body rejected the flow instantly.
If I did this at home, Mom would definitely notice.
"Hey, you mana-less freak!"
The sudden shout broke my concentration. I opened my eyes.
The three boys had surrounded me, sneering. The red-haired one stood in front, his hands on his hips.
"I heard from my dad that you can't use mana at all," he said, grinning cruelly. "Guess that makes you useless, huh?"
I rose to my feet, brushing the dirt off my pants. "So what do you want?"
"Nothing much," the red-haired boy said, cracking his knuckles. "We just thought we'd invite you for a little spar. My dad's an A-rank adventurer and an Enhancer, so you could use a lesson or two."
His friends laughed behind him.
"A spar, huh?" I tilted my head. "Fine. But if we're doing this, make it fair."
"Oh, it'll be fair," he sneered.
"Good," I said, stepping into my stance. "Then all three of you come at me at once."
---
The red-haired boy's smirk faltered. "All three? You serious?"
"Do I look like I'm joking?"
That was all the warning they got.
The first boy charged in, swinging his wooden stick like a club. I sidestepped, grabbed his wrist, and twisted using his momentum to flip him over. He hit the ground with a yelp.
Before the others could react, I turned, ducking under a punch from the second boy and driving my knee into his stomach. The air burst out of him with a sharp gasp.
The red-haired one hesitated for a moment, then roared and coated his arm with faint mana barely visible, but enough to enhance his strength. He swung at me in a wide arc.
I shifted my footing, letting his attack graze past, then slammed the branch against his ribs. The sound cracked through the air, and he stumbled back, wheezing.
All three of them were on the ground within seconds.
---
The red-haired boy clutched his side, glaring up at me in disbelief. "You… you're just a freak! No way you're normal"
"Maybe I'm not," I said quietly, lowering the branch. "But strength isn't something only mana gives."
Their faces twisted in embarrassment. Without another word, they scrambled to their feet and ran off toward the village.
I stood there for a long while, breathing steadily. The ache in my chest was still there faint but constant.
Even without mana, even broken as I was, I could still fight.
I looked down at my hand, the faint tremor still there from where mana had tried to flow and failed.
"Enhancer, huh…" I muttered, staring at the horizon. "If the body rejects mana, then maybe I just have to make the body stronger than mana itself."
The wind blew softly through the trees, carrying away the last of the boys' laughter.
And for the first time in a long while, I smiled.