The academy was a wonder to behold, almost like an entire city within itself. From the dining halls to the dorms, and even the forest outside the walls, everything had a specific function. No expense was spared when the academy was built, and each person, be they noble or commoner, received lessons and a place to call home, albeit temporarily.


    A month has passed, and Tyrus had already gotten accustomed to his life here. The halls, grand as they were, had been a maze to him at first. He had spent the first week mapping the place in his mind, often stumbling into rooms where he didn’t belong and nearly being marked as late to lessons after taking one too many wrong turns. Usually he''d made it a point to arrive early, but there were two problems he hadn''t expected to bite him in the butt later: Augmentation Mastery and Sorcerer Combat I.


    "Come on, you unrefined gems!" Instructor Geroth barked. "Don''t tell me this is all you got?"


    The hardened man stood on top of the raised platform—designated as an instructor''s perch—looming over the students like a mother bear protecting her young cubs. Every student, wearing the restriction rings around their ankles and wrists, was pressed to the ground.


    "Up, down, up, down!"


    Whenever Instructor Geroth let out a roar, everyone else would quickly lift themselves off the ground in response to his command before descending back down with a resounding thud. A few students would groan with reluctance as they were instructed to rise, and a couple even ended up face planting into the ground when their arms couldn''t fully extend to lift them up. The students'' arms trembled like those of a newborn learning to walk, as they struggled to maintain their balance on their palms.


    Tyrus was one of the few who had no problem with strength training. Compared to surviving in the wild for years and hunting for food on his own, this was child''s play. His body, honed by necessity, moved with practiced ease despite the restriction rings that weighed down his limbs. Each push-up felt like a controlled exertion rather than a desperate struggle. While others gasped for air and faltered, he maintained his rhythm, his breaths steady and even.


    That wasn’t to say it was easy. The restriction rings drained energy in a way that no natural hardship could replicate. It was like dragging invisible weights with every movement. Still, Tyrus had endured worse. The wilds had no mercy, and neither did Instructor Geroth, but Tyrus knew how to endure.


    “Keep it up, Tyrus!” Instructor Geroth barked, his tone edged with both approval and a challenge. “You think you’re special because you’re not flat on your face like the rest of them? Let’s see if you’re still standing by the end!”


    Tyrus didn’t respond, nor did he allow his expression to betray any emotion. He simply kept moving, letting the rhythm of the exercise drown out the instructor’s taunts. If the instructor wanted him to falter, he would be disappointed.


    Nearby, a student named Elias—scrawny and short—let out a frustrated grunt as his arms gave out beneath him, sending him sprawling onto the floor. “I can’t,” Elias muttered, his face red with exertion.


    “You can and you will!” the instructor replied, striding over to stare down at him. “Tell me, son, what is your number one goal in life?"


    Elias looked up and hesitated before saying, "I... I want to be as big as you and be with a beautiful woman who would kill to be with me!"


    Instructor Geroth threw his head back and cackled. "Hah! What a mighty fine dream! Alas, to achieve that goal, you must push through your limits to earn the finest woman in Dharmere. Push through, and that dream of yours will come true."


    Elias'' eyes sparkled with renewed vigor as he pushed himself back into his trembling arms. "Yes, sir!" he shouted, his voice cracking.


    The room rippled with quiet laughter from a few students, but Instructor Geroth silenced them with a single glare. "Laugh if you want," he growled, "but dreams are what drive us to greatness. What are your dreams, hmm? Or do you not have any worth fighting for?"


    The laughter died immediately, replaced by awkward silence. Tyrus kept his focus on the floor, his arms rising and falling in rhythm. He hoped that Instructor Geroth wouldn''t pick on him to share his dreams out loud in front of the class. It wasn''t that he was embarrassed about them, but more so that he had multiple. Picking which one to be more important than the other was the same as picking between which leg he favored. Although he used one more often, he required both to remain upright. His dreams were intertwined, each supporting the other, forming the foundation of who he wanted to become.


    Still, having a dream of wanting to be friends with a beautiful woman was an odd one to have. Why not have a dream of becoming the strongest in the world, becoming an explorer, or even becoming a royal knight? Tyrus couldn''t understand why Elias would choose something so... simple.


    By the time Instructor Geroth reached the number thirty, many of the students had collapsed onto the floor, their arms trembling and bodies slick with sweat. Groans and labored breaths filled the room as some struggled to push themselves back up, only to fail again.


    Only a handful remained, that being Tyrus, Aeithen, Elias, whose face was beet red, and a girl who was quite tall for her age. Her teeth were clenched and her eyes turned to steel as she continued, her expression churning despite the strain of the exercise. A few minutes passed, and the number fifty was shouted. The instructor then ordered everyone still left to rest, in which they complied immediately.


    For the past month, Instructor Geroth had been pushing them through rigorous training, building their bodies through the Trials of Persistence, he called it. For an hour, they were focused on muscle training and stamina, forbidden from using augmentation to lessen its effectivity. He said the rings would benefit them in the long term and that it was important to learn to use their bodies without mana to assist them.


    Elias plopped down beside him, wiping the sweat from his brow with a shaky hand. “I think my arms are about to detach and run away in protest."


    “They’ll stay attached,” Tyrus replied. “You’re just not used to this yet.”


    Elias groaned. “Used to this? Tyrus, you make it sound like we’re going to be doing this forever.”


    Tyrus smirked faintly but didn’t answer. Elias was one of the new friends he had made over the month. Surprisingly enough, it was he who approached Tyrus, and it was all because of his little show on the first day of class. The boy was fascinated by how long Tyrus maintained augmentation, especially when others couldn''t hold it longer for a minute. Elias even went as far to ask for any tips and secrets that could be shared to him.


    There weren’t any secrets that Tyrus could offer, though. His ability to maintain augmentation wasn’t a matter of technique but of practice and the conditions he grew up in. What Instructor Geroth had them go through was nothing in the face of the brutal reality of surviving in the wild.


    The stark difference between his life before the academy and his life now was like night and day. Before, he had to constantly stay on guard, eat every morsel he could find, and make sure no one discovered his secret. Now, he could have as much as he wanted, even if it was considered a delicacy for the rich. The structured lessons, the friends he made, the meals served three times a day—it was like stepping into an entirely different world. Yet, for all its comforts, the academy was still a test to overcome, a constant challenge to grow stronger and know more about sorcery.


    "Alright, break''s over," the instructor said.


    More groans filled the air as everyone rose to their feet, arms hung to the sides like limp fish. They filed into a single row, watching with bated breath as Instructor Geroth paced back and forth, arms crossed as his gaze swept over each face.


    "Now that warm-ups are finished, it''s time to get straight to the lesson," he said.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    "Can we finally take these restriction rings off?" one of the students—a girl with short red hair—piped up.


    Instructor Geroth shook his head and said, "They need to stay with you until the end of class. Only when I am confident in your abilities, can you take them off."


    She groaned. "Pardon me, instructor, but isn''t this Augmentation Mastery? We have yet to use augmentation once in this class! All we''ve been doing so far is working on our stamina and muscle training. If I wanted to do just that, I would''ve applied to join the city guard!"


    "Valid point," he acknowledged, with a slight pause. "However, there is one small flaw. You see, in order to truly master something, you must first establish a solid foundation. Have you ever considered what happens to those who attempt to enhance frail bodies?" he asked, imitating an explosion with his hands, though not in a playful manner. "Believe me, becoming a cautionary tale is not something you desire."


    Instructor Geroth gave a nod of understanding. "Mana flows within the blood vessels, also known as mana pathways, in the case of sorcerers. These pathways transport your mana to any part of your body—be it your arms, legs, or even a single toe. If these pathways become blocked, strained, or poorly maintained, they can either burst or cause excruciating cramps, making you feel as though you''ve been pricked by countless needles. Therefore, it is crucial to have control and take proper care of your vessel. You must guide your mana with ease, akin to water flowing smoothly in a stream, rather than like a turbulent flood."


    that echoed across the tower and froze the students mid-action. He crossed his arms and tilted his head, an exaggerated expression of mock disappointment on his face.


    This is a royal knight we''re talking about. He knows a lot more about augmentation than I do. Doubting his teachings would be stupid. There must be something crucial I''m missing.


    Instead of infusing mana into his entire left arm, he only focused it into a single, precise point: his fist.


    , Tyrus realized.


    Inhale. Gather the mana. Exhale. Guide it.