Location: The Greyrat Courtyard Age: 7 (Six Months Later)
If magic was a cheat code, Touki was a VIP club that I wasn't allowed into.
For the last six months, I had turned my life into a torture chamber.
"Run faster!" Paul shouted, sipping a glass of water while sitting comfortably in the shade of the porch.
I was currently on my fiftieth lap around the manor. My legs felt like they were filled with lead. My lungs were burning so badly I tasted copper. My heart was hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs—thud-thud-thud-thud.
I hate you, old man, I thought, glaring at him as I sprinted past. I hate your comfortable chair. I hate your smug face.
But I didn't stop.
"Form!" Paul barked. "Your back is slouching! If you slouch, you die!"
I straightened my spine, fighting the exhaustion.
I was chasing the feeling. That heat. That pressure I felt when Paul got serious. He told me that Touki appears when the body is pushed to its absolute breaking point—when the mana in your blood realizes that if it doesn't harden the skin, the host is going to collapse.
So, I was trying to collapse.
I finished the lap and collapsed onto the grass, heaving. The sky spun above me.
"Good warmup," Paul said, standing up and stretching. "Now, pick up your sword."
I groaned. Warmup? That was a marathon.
I grabbed my wooden sword. My fingers were trembling.
"Come on," Paul said, dropping into a stance. "Hit me. If you can touch my shirt, we stop for the day."
I stood up.
I looked at him.
My eyes—my curse and my gift—analyzed him.
I saw it. The faint shimmer around his limbs. The Battle Aura. It was thin today, barely a coating, but to me, it looked like he was wearing plate armor made of light.
I didn't have that. I was just meat and bone.
Speed, I told myself. I just need to be faster than the light.
I launched myself forward.
I feinted left, dropped my shoulder, and swung for his right hip. A classic misdirection.
CLACK.
Paul didn't even look. He just lowered his sword and blocked my strike. The impact jarred my bones.
"Too slow," Paul said. "You're thinking too much. Stop thinking. Feel."
I gritted my teeth. I swung again. And again. And again.
Every strike was blocked. Every lunge was parried. It was like fighting a mountain. No matter how smart I was, no matter how perfect my angle was, his Touki made him faster and stronger than physics allowed.
I let out a yell of frustration and threw a desperate overhead smash.
Paul stepped aside—moving so fast he blurred—and swept my legs.
WHAM.
I hit the ground hard. The air left my lungs.
I lay there, staring at the sun. The frustration was a physical weight in my gut. I was the Ferrari engine, but the car was stuck in the mud.
"Not today, kid," Paul said, his voice unusually gentle. He walked over and poked my forehead. "You've got the spirit. But the mana isn't waking up yet. Give it time."
Time, I thought bitterly. I don't have time. Rudeus is already casting Saint-tier rainstorms, and I'm still eating dirt.
Location: The Shared Bedroom Time: Evening
That night, the contrast between me and my brother was annoying.
I was lying on my bed, covered in bruises, smelling of muscle ointment that Lilia had applied. My body ached in places I didn't know existed.
Rudeus was sitting at his desk. He was holding a small figurine he had made out of earth magic.
"Look, Sol," he said, turning around. "I made a Roxy figure."
I cracked one eye open.
It was... disturbingly detailed. He had gotten the robes right. The braid. Even the sleepy expression.
"You're a creep, Rudy," I groaned, rolling over.
"It's art!" he protested. "Besides, look at the precision. I had to manipulate the earth at a microscopic level to get the eyelashes right."
I paused.
Microscopic level?
I sat up, wincing as my bruised ribs protested.
"Show me," I demanded.
Rudeus handed me the figurine.
I looked at it closely. He was right. The detail was insane.
"You used mana to do this?" I asked.
"Yeah," Rudeus said, scratching his nose. "I just imagine the shape, and the mana flows into it. It's like... molding clay with your mind."
I stared at the doll.
He imagines the shape, and the mana flows.
I looked at my own hand.
Why couldn't I do that? Why couldn't I just imagine my skin turning to steel?
"Rudy," I asked. "What does it feel like? The mana."
"Um," he thought about it. "It feels like blood. Like... warm water running through your veins. You just have to open the tap."
Warm water.
I closed my eyes. I tried to feel the warm water.
I felt nothing. Just the ache of my muscles and the thumping of my heart.
"Useless," I muttered, tossing the doll back to him. "Your magic is weird. I'm going to sleep."
"Goodnight, Sol," Rudeus said cheerfully.
I turned my back to him.
Open the tap, I thought, drifting into sleep. I'm going to rip the faucet off the wall if I have to.
Location: The Village Clearing Age: 7.5
"Keep your guard up, Sylph!" I shouted.
We were in the clearing by the big tree. My personal dojo.
Sylphy was standing in front of me, holding a stick. The kid was shaking.
"I... I don't want to hit you, Sol," Sylphy whimpered.
"I'm not asking you to hit me," I said, leaning against the tree with my arms crossed. "I'm asking you to try."
I had taken it upon myself to train Sylphy. Why? Because watching Sylphy get bullied was annoying me. It offended my sense of aesthetics. If you hang out with Sol Greyrat, you need to be able to at least throw a punch.
"Come on," I goaded. "Pretend I'm Somar. Pretend I just threw mud at you."
Sylphy's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Good," I smiled. "Use the anger. Anger is fuel."
Sylphy ran forward and swung the stick. It was a clumsy, telegraphed swing.
I didn't even use my hands. I just stepped to the left.
Sylphy stumbled past me.
"Wrong," I said. "You're swinging with your arms. Swing with your hips."
I walked behind Sylphy and kicked the back of the knee—lightly. Sylphy buckled.
"Low center of gravity," I lectured. "If you can't be strong, be stable. If you can't be stable, be fast."
Sylphy stood up, wiping dirt off the tunic. "This is hard."
"Life is hard," I said, sounding like a grumpy old man. "You have magic, right? Like Rudy?"
"A little..."
"Use it," I commanded. "Combine it. Swing the stick, and blast wind at my face to blind me. Fight dirty."
Sylphy looked horrified. "That's cheating!"
I walked over and flicked Sylphy's forehead. Thwack.
"Ow!"
"There are no rules in a fight," I said seriously. "There is only winning and losing. If you lose, you get hurt. If you win, you go home. Do you want to go home, or do you want to bleed?"
Sylphy rubbed the red spot on the forehead. The green-haired kid looked at me with big, watery eyes.
Then, slowly, Sylphy nodded.
"I want to win."
"Good," I grinned. "Then pick up the stick. Again."
We trained until the sun went down.
Watching Sylphy struggle gave me a strange sense of clarity. I saw the clumsy movements, the hesitation. And I realized... that was me against Paul.
To Paul, I was just like Sylphy. Clumsy. Slow. Hesitant.
I need to stop hesitating, I realized. I'm waiting for the Touki to appear. I need to stop waiting and force it.
Location: The Study (Eavesdropping) Time: Night
I was heading to the kitchen for water when I heard voices in the study.
Paul and Zenith.
I stopped. My stealth training kicked in. I silenced my breathing and leaned against the doorframe.
"...Sol is getting frustrated," Paul's voice came through the wood. "I can see it in his eyes. He has the mind of a Master Swordsman, Zenith. It's actually scary. He predicts my moves before I make them."
"That's good, isn't it?" Zenith asked.
"It is," Paul sighed. "But his body can't keep up. It's torture for him. He's trying to drive a carriage with no wheels."
"He's only seven, Paul."
"I know. But he doesn't act seven. He acts like he's running out of time."
I heard the clink of a glass.
"I'm worried," Paul continued. "If he doesn't unlock his Touki soon, he's going to hurt himself trying to force it. He pushes too hard. Yesterday, I saw him trying to punch a tree until his knuckles bled."
"What should we do?"
"I might have to send him away sooner than we planned," Paul said. "Maybe to the Sword Sanctum? No, he's too young... they'd eat him alive."
I stepped away from the door.
Send me away?
My heart skipped a beat.
Not out of fear. Out of excitement.
The Sword Sanctum. The place where the Sword God lived. The place where the strongest swordsmen in the world gathered.
I walked back to my room, my mind racing.
Paul thought I was too young. He thought I would be eaten alive.
I looked at my reflection in the dark window.
Let them try to eat me, I thought, a predatory smile spreading across my face. I'm not the food. I'm the hunter.
But Paul was right about one thing. I was running out of time. I couldn't go to the Sword Sanctum as a normal human. I needed the armor.
I looked at my hands.
Tomorrow, I decided. Tomorrow, I stop holding back during training. I'm going to make Paul try to kill me. Real killing intent. That's the only way.
I climbed into bed. Rudeus was snoring softly.
Sleep well, brother, I thought. Tomorrow, I break the wall.