"First Steps, Invisible Ripples"
Martial God Asura World: Rebirth of the Eternal Spirit King
Morning mist still clung to the mountain when the outer disciple courtyard bell rang.
"Outer disciple Astra!"
"Where is that useless brat!"
A sharp voice cut through the fog.
Astra stepped out of his small room, robe still slightly damp from hastily wiping off the impurities from last night's physique reconstruction. The world felt clearer today—edges sharper, sounds more layered.
An elder's assistant stood there, thin face twisted in irritation.
"You're late," he snapped. "The training grounds are filthy. Elder wants them cleaned before midday. And the elder's robes need washing. You understand?"
Astra nodded.
"I understand."
The assistant frowned. He'd expected stuttering, excuses—some sign of weakness to stomp on.
"I said midday," he repeated, as if Astra were stupid. "You'll be punished if you fail."
"I won't fail," Astra replied simply.
The man clicked his tongue and stalked off.
The training grounds stretched wide—stone tiles marked by footprints, dust, dried sweat, and a few faint blood stains from overzealous sparring.
A wooden bucket, a stiff brush, and a rag waited for him.
Astra looked at them in silence.
In his first life, he'd done dirty work too—odd jobs, late-night clerical tasks, cleaning just to earn a little money. Back then, it had felt pointless.
This time, the stones held more meaning.
Every fist that struck them, every drop of sweat, every insult—
This is where the strong stand. Where I will stand properly.
He knelt and began scrubbing.
The brush bit into his palm. Cold water stung his fingers. His muscles, newly reconstructed, protested faintly under the repetitive strain, unused to real physical labor in this improved state.
But he didn't rush.
He didn't curse.
He simply worked.
[Ding! Task detected: "Fulfill Assigned Chore – Training Ground Cleaning"]
– Optional Reward: Minor Physical Enhancement + 5 SP
– Failure: No penalty
"Accepted," Astra thought.
He finished one tile. Then another. He picked up a rhythm—scrub, rinse, move. His breathing settled naturally into the pattern of Heavenly Pulse Breathing Art as he worked.
Sweat soaked his robe again. His back ached.
A few disciples passing by snickered.
"He's actually doing it."
"Well, that's all he's good for."
"At least he can make the floor shine."
One of them paused for a second, frowning.
"…Does he feel different to you today?"
"Different how?"
"I don't know. Forget it."
They walked away.
Astra didn't look up.
But a faint, wry smile tugged at his lips.
You look down on me now. Keep looking down…
It'll make your faces more satisfying to see later.
By the time he finished the last row of tiles, his arms trembled slightly.
He straightened, stretching his sore shoulders.
The training field gleamed in the sunlight.
[Ding! Chore Task Complete.]
Reward: Minor Body Strengthening + 5 SP]
A warm current flowed through his limbs, mending strain and knitting muscle fibers tighter.