By the time I turned seven, Uncle Garen had become a regular part of our lives.
He didn't live with us, but he visited often—sometimes for a few days, sometimes for a week. Whenever he did, the house felt a little smaller and a lot louder.
"Your stance is off," Garen said one morning, tapping my leg with the flat of his sword."And you're nitpicking," my father replied from the doorway."That's how people stay alive."
I learned a lot from those visits.
Most importantly, I learned how the world measured strength.
Skills in this world were graded by rank, a scale so old that no one remembered who created it.
The order was absolute:
F → D → C → B → A → S → SS → SSS → Z
Most people spent their entire lives between D and C.Talented fighters or mages might reach A.True elites stood at S or SS.
Anything beyond that was legend.
"SSS are names people whisper," Garen once said. "And Z-rank?"
He snorted.
"No one's reached that in ten thousand years."
Rank determined a how much raw power a skill had.
But it didn't determine how well it was used.
A Rank C skill trained to mastery could match a Rank A skill used at novice level.
That was the part most people didn't understand.
Depth mattered more than labels.
Skills also developed through tiers of power, regardless of rank:
Spark – newly awakened, unstable
Flow – consistent and controlled
Core – internalized, instinctive
Domain – projected beyond the body
Sovereign – absolute mastery
The higher the tier, the greater the leap.
Most never reached Core.
Anything beyond that reshaped the battlefield.
Raising a skill's rank was considered nearly impossible.
"The greatest mage in recorded history," Garen told us once, "spent thirty-five years forcing an A-rank skill into SS-rank."
He paused.
"It shaved fifty years off his lifespan."
That was why my parents hadn't celebrated when my endurance evolved.
They'd been horrified.
Only I knew the truth.
My system paid the cost up front—pain, exhaustion, strain—but left no lasting damage.
If anyone ever realized what that meant…
Well.
That was a problem for later.
That year, my father finally decided I was old enough to go hunting with him.
Not real hunting at first—just small game.
Rabbits. Birds. The occasional unlucky deer.
I liked it.
Walking beside him through the forest, listening to the crunch of leaves and distant calls, felt… right.
"You see that?" he whispered once, pointing to broken grass.
"Yeah," I nodded. "Something passed through recently."
He blinked. "Good eye."
We went out often after that.
And slowly, without realizing it, I improved.
Two months into the season, it happened.
We were skinning a rabbit when my vision flickered.
[Skill Merge Available]
My heart jumped.
Then nearly stopped.
Dad was right there.
I reacted instantly.
Close.
The notification vanished.
"You alright?" my father asked.
"Yeah," I said quickly. "Just tired."
That wasn't a lie.
But I didn't sleep much that night.
The Next Day
At dawn, I slipped out quietly and headed for the woods.
Not to hunt.
To think.
Once I was alone, I sat against a tree and opened my system.
The familiar interface appeared.
[Merge Conditions Met] Eligible Skills Detected
Two entries glowed faintly.
Mental Focus – Rank D Basic Weapon Handling – Rank D
Below them—
Merge Result:Foundational Focus Technique – Rank C (Unique)
I swallowed.
"Show details."
Foundational Focus Technique
Description:A refined discipline skill that synchronizes mental clarity with physical execution.
Improves reaction speed, reduces wasted motion, and stabilizes technique under stress.
Effectiveness scales with training and applicable weapon familiarity.
Below that-
Note;
Merged skills may be used as componentsfor future merges.
However, The cost of merging an already merged skill increases significantly.
I leaned back against the tree.
"So it stacks… but it hurts more."
Fair.
Unlike the legends I'd heard, my system didn't steal decades from my life.
The changes were immediate. Exhausting—but temporary.
No permanent damage.
No shortened lifespan.
If anyone found out about this…
I smiled.
"…Yeah. Let's keep this quiet."
Decision Made
I took a slow breath.
The forest was calm. Birds chirped overhead. Leaves rustled in the wind.
"This feels right," I murmured.
And confirmed the merge
The moment I confirmed the merge, the forest went quiet.
Not suddenly—just… muted. Like someone had lowered the volume of the world.
A dull pressure formed behind my eyes, spreading slowly, steadily. It didn't hurt, exactly, but it demanded my attention.
I closed my eyes and focused on breathing.
In.
Out.
My heartbeat slowed.
Then something shifted.
It felt like two familiar sensations—ones I'd lived with for years—were being pulled together. My thoughts sharpened, aligning with the rhythm of my body. Movements I'd practiced a thousand times replayed themselves in my mind, but cleaner. More efficient.
Like watching my own actions, corrected.
My fingers twitched.
I stood, experimentally, and picked up a fallen branch from the forest floor.
The weight registered instantly. Balance adjusted without thought. My grip settled into place as naturally as breathing.
"…That's new."
I swung the branch lightly.
No wasted motion.
My feet moved before I told them to. My shoulders followed through automatically, not overcommitting, not lagging behind.
It felt right.
Not stronger.
Just… clearer.
I took a step, then another, weaving between trees without slowing. My eyes tracked branches and roots effortlessly, my body responding before I consciously registered the obstacles.
It was like my mind and body had finally agreed to work together.
A sudden wave of exhaustion hit me then—sharp and immediate.
I staggered, catching myself against a tree.
"Okay," I muttered, breathing hard. "There's the cost."
My muscles felt heavy, like they'd been wrung dry. My head throbbed faintly, but the clarity remained, steady beneath the fatigue.
I sank down against the trunk and laughed quietly.
"So this is what a foundation feels like."
As the exhaustion slowly faded, one thought settled firmly in my mind:
This wasn't a skill meant to impress.
It was a skill meant to build on.
And I had a feeling it would change everything.