My uncle arrived on a clear morning, riding a horse that looked more expensive than our house.
I noticed immediately.
Mostly because horses didn't usually wear armor.
"Is that… shiny?" I asked, squinting as the man dismounted near our gate.
My father froze mid-step.
"…Brother?"
The man grinned and spread his arms wide
"Miss me?"
My father's brother, Garen, was taller and broader, and he walked with the easy confidence of someone who knew how to handle himself. His clothes were worn but well-made, and the sword at his side wasn't decoration.
My mother blinked. "You're early this year."
"Got time off between jobs," Garen replied easily. "Thought I'd visit before the roads get bad."
Jobs.
I latched onto that word immediately.
While the adults talked, I circled him like a curious animal.
Sword. Calloused hands. Old scars.
This wasn't a farmer.
The next morning, I woke early.
Not because I wanted to.
Because I heard metal.
I peeked outside.
My uncle stood in the clearing near the fields, shirt loose, sword in hand.
And then—
He moved.
I forgot to breathe.
Every step was smooth. Every swing precise. No wasted motion. No hesitation.
It wasn't flashy.
It was deadly.
"…Whoa," I whispered.
So this was a real fighter.
At some point, he noticed me.
"You're up early, kid," he said without stopping.
"Oh yeah, just going to the woods," I said hastily escaping
I wanted to train like my uncle did but I knew I couldn't.
I trained the way someone weak had to.
Before sunrise, when the village was still asleep, I wrapped myself in extra layers of cloth—old shirts, blankets, anything I could find—and ran.
Not far.
Just enough to make my lungs burn and sweat soak through the fabric.
The weight slowed me down. Forced me to breathe properly. To manage my pace.
When I finished running, I didn't rest.
I walked straight to the river.
The water was freezing.
I hesitated for half a second—then stepped in.
Cold slammed into me like a wall.
I submerged myself up to my neck and focused on breathing slowly, evenly, ignoring every instinct screaming at me to get out.
My teeth chattered violently.
My muscles screamed.
[Minor Endurance – Rank D]Progress: 14%
I stayed until my limbs felt numb.
Then I got out.
No fire. No blanket.
Just movement.
I walked. Stretched. Forced circulation back into my body.
Some mornings I failed early.
Some mornings I stayed longer.
But every day—
Progress: 31%Progress: 46%
I carried buckets of water uphill. Held stones overhead until my arms shook. Stood barefoot on frozen ground while controlling my breath.
Not fast.
Not flashy.
Just relentless.
By the end of the second week—
Progress: 67%
My body adapted.
The cold didn't bite as hard.
My breathing steadied faster.
I smiled every time I checked.
The Watcher
I didn't realize I wasn't alone.
That morning, I stayed in the river longer than usual, chest deep in ice-cold water, eyes closed, counting my breaths.
Progress: 82%
My muscles trembled violently, but I didn't move.
I refused to.
"Enough."
I gasped and turned.
My uncle stood at the riverbank, arms crossed, eyes sharp.
"…How long?" he asked.
I swallowed. "A while."
He stared at the water. At the soaked clothes weighted down around my body.
"…You're not toughening yourself up," he muttered. "You're conditioning your limits."
I didn't reply.
"Stay in," he said.
My vision blurred.
Progress: 91%
"Breathe."
I did.
Progress: 99%
And then—
[Minor Endurance – Rank D → Rank C]
Warmth spread through my chest, steady and grounding.
The cold stopped hurting.
I exhaled slowly.
"…Huh," I said weakly. "That worked."
My uncle laughed.
He picked me up and spun me around before putting me on his back and carried me home.
That night, I lay in bed pretending to sleep.
Again.
Some habits never changed.
"He's five," Garen said quietly. "And he trained his endurance to Rank C on his own."
My mother gasped softly. "That's not possible."
"It is," he replied. "I watched him do it."
Silence.
"He's talented," Garen continued. "More than you think."
"You're talking about the academy," my father said.
"Yes," Garen answered,"Aetherion Royal Magic Academy."
"That place is for nobles," my mother whispered.
"And prodigies," Garen said calmly. "And your son fits better than you realize."
I stared at the ceiling.
Heart pounding.
Aetherion…
I smiled