ã€ŠAscendantsã€‹


 Chapter 1 - Wet Pants

    Raiden Alaric

    What do I do?

    I''m just sitting here on the floor panting. I swear I broke a few ribs. It''s hard to breathe and I can''t lift my arm properly. My head is also pounding as if I attempted to challenge a mountain goat to see who has the harder head. Now I''m going to have to take the walk of shame back home to try and give my parents an explanation as to how I ended up with blood on my clothes and broken bones. I think my shoulder is dislocated as well. I don''t think falling down stairs is convincing enough. I can''t necessarily tell the truth. Just go ¡®Hey I just had a brawl with 3 classmates¡¯ and expect a calm response. It''s not even for my sake, it''s for theirs. If my mom found out that they... yeah let''s just not think about it.

    Hm?

    My left eye is kind of swollen now that I think about it.

    Ah man... my pants are wet.

    NO NO, I didn''t piss myself. I''m just sitting in a puddle. It''s a puddle. I swear, it had rained earlier. I honestly would just start heading home and bite the bullet with my mother''s wrath but... yeah no I can''t get up. Trust me, I tried twice, and the third time was not the charm. Plus, this is a nice wall I lay on. It has all the nice clean bricks for me to admire. This concrete floor, all the wet puddles and dog shit I could desire. It could all be yours for the low low price of $1,200 a month before taxes and fees. Yes sir, that employee of the month title is mine, suck it Arnold, whoever you are. I don''t know, it just seems like the name of someone who would be trying to rent out this corner. Sorry Arnold, nothing personal just trying to laugh the pain away.

    Ahaha.

    "Yo, kid you breathing?" I heard someone calling out to me, at least I think it''s to me. I look up and see a man standing in front of me. He walks over to me and squats down in front of me, "You need me to call someone or should I just take you to a hospital?"

    I mumbled incoherently, still trying to get my bearings, "I''m not sure, just a dude sitting here after attempting to defend myself from 3 guys. Clearly I''m all good to go, I''m just sitting here to enjoy the nice smells."

    The stranger scratches his chin, "Ah, is that so." He turns around looking around the area, "Although to be honest, I personally wouldn''t call it an ''attempt''."

    Blinking hard, the scene before me came into focus. Looking over his left shoulder I see a yellow wall that has a few blood stains splattered across it. Looking down the wall there is a bunch of trash lying around, more blood stains, and... oh. There are 2 guys just chilling with me. 2 bodies lay strewn across the dim, debris-filled alley. The first was sprawled face-down, arms stretched out mid-fall. The second slumped against a dumpster, head lolled at an unnatural angle against his shoulder and, is that vomit in his lap? Looking to my right I see one more lay unmoving on his back, shirt stained with blood. All three looked battered and bruised almost beyond recognition.

    Who jumped these guys?

    They are the victims here damn, look at this guy''s leg, it''s facing the wrong way. Wait are they... oh wait no, I see their chests moving, they''re alive.

    The stranger kept speaking, "You know, even though you look almost as bad as they do, I think you should pat yourself on the back for winning a 1v3."

    Looking up at him quickly I sputtered, "Huh?" That was a mistake, my vision begins to get blurry as the pounding of my head increases.

    I did this? Did I fight these guys?

    I can''t believe it, there''s no way. I''ve never had any sort of training to be capable of fighting 3 different people.

    This... has to be... a mistake...

    My head begins to spin as I try to recall what happened. No wait, I did do this, but-.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    "Uh oh, he''s about to go lights out." I try to respond to the stranger, but no such luck. "Okay kid, just rest up I''ll take it from here."

    How did I get here again? Oh yeah. These were my last thoughts before my eyes closed.

    I look up at the sky, closing my eyes, I feel the warmth of the summer sun. Not sure how long that will last however, I can spot some clouds moving in.

    Ah, finally, freedom.

    Taking a nice deep breath of fresh air I let my shoulders relax. Yeah, smells like it''s going to rain soon. Putting those thoughts aside I just bask in the glory of freedom. Classes are over, school is out for summer, and I have 3 months to pretend I don''t have to return. Luckily I managed to pass all my classes, otherwise I wouldn''t survive my mother''s wrath. She dotes on me a lot but when I do something such as, get low grades or watch a rated R movie without permission, I''m shown no quarter. My little sister will never understand.

    I''m paving the way for you young one. So you better be grateful. At least Dad will let it slide every now and then.

    Now I get to use my time to think about what I want to do with my free time. Maybe now I can finally spend some time to finish Final Fantasy. I would have finished it but Mom caught me up late at night so I had the unfortunate end result of her taking the console away until my classes were over. Well, I''m sure she''d have no issue with me playing for 6 hours straight since there''s no homework needing to be done, or any school I need to wake up for.

    My train of thought was interrupted when I noticed some students a year older than me running around with a notebook throwing it back and forth between them. I was confused as to why they were doing that until I saw a girl chasing after the book they were tossing around.

    Hmm, what to do, what to do?

    I could go get a teacher, or I could try and help her get the book so she feels as if there is some form of help. It''s not like I have a better chance of getting it than she does, I''m just as small. Besides, I shouldn''t get involved in such a cliche trope, I have dreams and I''m not looking to shorten my lifespan so soon.

    Wait, this is it. I help the girl, after taking a pretty decent beating, gain a potential friend in the process and everyone has a great day.

    Is what I would like to hype myself to do but I don''t like pain, I hesitate to pop my own fingers for crying out loud. Not worth it.

    Speaking of teachers, where are they? I know they are out here often, so why today of all days they decide to not be here. This is when I noticed the emblem on their coats. Ah, now I see why they wouldn''t even if they were here. The fact that there is an emblem at all on their coats is another good reason not to get involved. Anyone who has an emblem embroidered on their clothing is either from a family sect or has had an awakening evaluation from the Ascendants Association. Meaning they have power in family connections or they might have already awakened and will be joining an academy.

    It was at this moment when one of the students in question was about to catch the book but he missed catching it. The girl notices this and begins to reach for it as she runs, only for the guy to then trip her making her fall face-first into a tree. I winced at the sight because I heard the impact and it did not sound any better than it looked. Okay listen, I may be a wuss, but watching it all unfold got me pretty upset. I may have been trying to stay out of it but this was too far. I was about to run over to help her up to see if she was okay, but I saw one of them grab his head and bend over and yell out, "Agh!"

    What happened?

    Why is he acting like... a rock... This was when I noticed that I was finishing a throw.

    What?

    My body has betrayed me. After all, we''ve been through... I could cry after this sign of mutiny. My own body which I have full rights to, had the audacity to move before I could process let alone think about what I wanted to do. I just wanted to go over to the poor girl and see if she''s okay but why am I suddenly using my turn to use the ''Throw Rock At Ugly Dude''s Head'' action? I didn''t even get to quicksave before this interaction.

    Stop it with the stupid thoughts... Damn it I need to get out here.

    That was what I was thinking until I noticed I had already picked up another rock off the ground and thrown it at the same guy. Surprisingly I hit him in the head again making him fall to his knees.

    Damn, I should consider baseball with a throw like that, maybe try out for track and throw a javelin.

    Right after that thought came across my head it occurred to me that now isn''t the time to stroke my ego for my god-like aim. So I did the most logical thing one does when trying to de-escalate a situation when facing a possible beating. I ran away like a little bitch~.

 Chapter 2 - Well If It Isnt The Consequences of My Own Actions

    As I run to God knows where, I can hear them from behind me, "Hey, get back here!"

    My heartbeat thunders in my ears as I race across the concrete walkway. The strap of my heavy bag slaps against my heaving chest, urging me to keep pushing forward. My worn sneakers pound the manicured grass of the front lawn as I make for the chain link gate to freedom. Just ahead, parents in minivans and SUVs idle at the curb, eyeing me curiously while waiting to whisk younger kids home. If I can just get a few more feet ahead while on school property, maybe I can outrun them once off campus.

    Passing through the gate at last, I darted around a stopped sedan and bound onto the sidewalk lining Sycamore Street, the neighborhood houses just across the way. I risk a quick peek back and stumble. They¡¯re maybe fifty yards back now, having gained ground already! I spot one of their angry visages leading the pack as they shove oblivious kids aside in their relentless pursuit, their faces scarlet and contorted. Trying not to panic, I dash across quiet Sycamore then cut through the cluttered yard of a little green ranch house, leaping over the faded name etched into the curb.

    Got to keep moving!

    I sprint behind the raised ranch across the street, lungs searing now, each gasp like sucking in flames. No help back here - it¡¯s just me versus them in this race through endless starter castles and their postage stamp yards.

    Suddenly the sidewalk looms ahead again. I take the corner hard, almost losing my footing on the well-trimmed lawn, and then I¡¯m off down Hazel Lane, the echo of pounding feet drawing nearer. I blow through another intersection, bare trees, and swing sets flashing by my peripheral vision, my focus narrowed to each sidewalk square stretching ahead through endless sub developments.

    Soon I¡¯m completely turned around with no clue how to escape this labyrinth prison. Still, they come though, herding me farther into unfamiliar territory. I strain to suck oxygen from the warm summer air but my strides are faltering now. I stagger past the entrance sign for Pioneer Acres development, littered with tricycles and plastic playsets. Just a little farther, I pray, as I make for the only visible landmark ahead - the neighborhood park rising gently above the rooftops.

    I scramble up the gentle slope of Pioneer Park, my shoes slipping on a carpet of fallen leaves, no longer crisp but damp and matted now after recent rains. My chest heaves and my vision starts to narrow as I attempt the short steep section past the picnic tables to the crest of the hill.

    Got to keep going!

    Reaching the top at last, I dash along the running path that circles the perimeter, past oak, and maple trees extending weary bare branches in the late fall afternoon. I startle a flock of pigeons erupting from the cover of a picnic shelter, their sudden flight mirroring my own panicked rush to escape. Risking a glance back, I see my pursuers labor up the same incline, faces still fixed in fury. I blow past kids dangling from monkey bars and mothers bundling their young ones back into strollers to retreat from the coming rain.

    The trail curves down now past the basketball courts. I have a fleeting glimpse of kids, their sweat visible in the warm summer heat as they jostle and joke, the metallic thump of the ball echoing from the backboard and chain net. How I wish I was safely among them right now instead of relying on my deteriorating muscles and stagnant lungs to somehow spirit me to safety. But no options left except forward. I pass a leaf-choked water fountain without a glance and then I''m into the trees again. Through the barren branches, I can see my destination, my refuge, my seeming salvation - the alley gaping darkly behind the adjacent row of homes. If I can slip in there, a chance perhaps to lose my hunters in that shadowy, unfamiliar terrain.

    With nearly the last of my energy, I sprint from the semi-circle of nature and back onto the boiling asphalt ribbon of humanity''s domain - sidewalks and streets, orderly plots with satellite dishes sprouting amid dormant flower beds. The thunder at my back propels me across one final lawn and then suddenly.

    And just my luck it finally began to rain. Whether or not I managed to lose them is still to be decided. Regardless, I got a decent amount of distance between me and the other three. My lungs are fighting for their life right now. I can''t recall the last time I have ever run for so long, with the added weight of my backpack to boot.

    Suddenly, I see one of my pursuers approaching me from the right, cutting me off just out of arms reach. Without hesitating, I turn left, irritated at the fact that I was starting to get my hopes up. How did they catch up? There''s no way they could have managed to know where I was going after putting so much distance between us. I lurch forward at the sudden halt of my shoulders as he grabs me by my pack and pulls me to the side of what seems to be another alleyway that diverges from the original that I was running through. His strength surprised me, he basically lifted me off my feet, throwing me deeper into the alley.

    The chase has been relentless, and I''ve been running on pure adrenaline. As I struggle to catch my breath, I realize that this might be the end of the line. The tall buildings on either side of the alley cast long shadows, and the dim light only adds to the tension. I press myself against the wall, trying to create some distance between me and the figure that has me cornered.

    Damn it¡­

    As I look at my options they are, as expected, not in my favor in the slightest. Looking around it''s, well, an alley. Brick walls and trash bins to my left and right. Concrete floor with puddles forming beneath my feet. Utterly exhausted, breathing heavily, look up to see an ugly dude staring at me with... blood running down the side of his head fuming with rage. Yeah, that sounds about right. It would be the guy I hit. He looks like a Nathan, you sir I now dub, Nathan, because I don''t know your name.

    I turn around to see a very nice wall solidifying the fact that I am cornered. I twist my body around looking at my potential character development towards my villain arc. "Hey there, umm, you wouldn''t happen to have dragged me here to talk about my car''s extended warranty now would you?"

    What am I doing?

    He did not like that in the slightest, the last 2 pursuers had just arrived as he bit back, "You threw 2 rocks at my head, do you think I''m here for a fucking car?" His New Jersey accent was thick. I take it back, you are no longer Nathan, you are Tony.

    "Hey, I''d be mad too if someone wearing a TMNT shirt decided to play David and Goliath with me too. Trust me I feel you buddy."

    The one to Tony''s left then speaks, "Are you trying to make this shit get worse for you?" Oh, we have a diverse set of accents already, this guy has a southern draw. You are now known as Bill.

    Raising my hands I respond, "Hey man I don''t have anything for you to play monkey in the middle with, or a tree for you to-"

    Cutting me off the one on the right spoke to Tony, "Hey, put your bind back on. If the A.A. catches you taking it off then you''ll have to go through a re-education and re-evaluation just to get another chance. That''s IF they let it slide." Aw man, way to break the streak. Another New Jersey accent, I''ll call you Mateo.

    Ah wait, that''s not important, he has a bind.

    Tony reached into his pocket, and I watched with rapt attention as he retrieved the bind. The jewel embedded in its center caught the faintest glimmer of light. With careful precision, he slid the cuff onto his wrist, the jewel shimmering as it settled into place. The intricate patterns etched into the metal seemed to come alive, then began reforming itself. The metal shrinking and fitting to his wrist perfectly. As it settled it''s new size the jewel at the center gave a faint glow. He flicks his wrist a few times clearly not comfortable with what the bind had just done after it began to glow.

    This is when I get a good look at my three pursuers. The one to Tony''s right, whom I dubbed Mateo, stands confidently with sharp eyes glinting under his hood. His slender frame and lack of muscle give him a bookish appearance. He wears fitted brown pants tucked into fancy leather boots and a pristine white shirt embroidered with the insignia of the Ascendants Association on the breast.

    Then we have Tony himself, wearing an unsettling grin that doesn''t suit his already repulsive looks. I mean, it might sound like I''m being an asshole, but I''m serious. His seemingly friendly smile masks any trace of mercy. While slim and agile like the first, I can now see the cold calculation in his icy blue eyes. He sports loose cotton trousers and a simple cloth vest over a lace-trimmed shirt. On the vest is an intricately stitched emblem marking him as a member of a family sect I don''t recognize. I would also assume he has an Ascendants Association badge or emblem somewhere, but family sect etiquette dictates that one should wear their family name proudly unless it''s part of a uniform. He probably has a superiority complex or an ego the size of Mars.

    My gaze finally falls upon Bill, a willowy guy with golden braids incongruously falling across his shoulders. His delicate features twist into a scowl as he notices my gaze on him. Though girlishly pretty, menace exudes from his proud stance. Likely no older than fourteen himself, he seems eager to do me harm. He wears fitted green pants tucked into tall black boots, along with a cream tunic accented by a short blue leather vest bearing the crest of the Fair Visages, which I do recognize. Actually, it''s kind of off-putting the fact that he has a southern draw and looks like that. His voice is relatively deep too. If you put him in a maid outfit and have him serve tea, you could get a good amount of views recording people''s reactions when he speaks to them. Seeing a trap throw someone for a loop is always a good laugh. I could go on about the possibilities, but I digress.

    "Relax, my dad has connections. So I don''t have to worry about having it off for too long just so I could get ahead of you all to cut him off." He winced and looked over the bind. "Although I''d rather not have this on at all. It feels uncomfortable to have it drain me."

    Bill spoke, "We have to, until we get proper aura training we can''t take them off. Meaning we either attend an academy for training or get certified through the A.A after getting training by our own means. They said this during orientation. Besides at least you can take yours off."

    "That''s kind of true, I can''t really use it to hurt this asshole. They find any hint of aura residue on his injuries that''s a one way ticket to visit the Sentinels."

    Bill tsk''d, "Fuck, you''re right."

    Tony then spoke to me, "You must be having the time of your life huh?"

    I raised an eyebrow, "Hm? Oh!" What in the... what is wrong with me? During their conversation at some point, I took off my pack and sat on it resting my chin in my hand like I was waiting on them to finish.

    Mateo then spoke up, "You''re both getting off topic and we have this clown here making us look like fools by sitting waiting as if we''re the ones wasting his time."

    Ah man, I guess time is up.

    I knew at that moment that this was it. I have to endure. At the same time, I''m trying to come up with excuses for my parents. If I show up bloodied and bruised my mom will bring down the fury of the heavens. She will hunt these guys down and force their distinguished families to prostrate themselves in apology. Under normal circumstances, I would be okay with this. However, these guys clearly have good backing. So if my mom or dad decided to take it upon themselves to resolve this, they''d only find themselves in more trouble with their families.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    Tony and Bill then turned their heads to stare me down. All three of them locked on to me, clear malice in their gaze. I get goosebumps as I watch them approach me and they begin taking off anything they don''t want blood on, knowing that it has all come to this. I can stand my ground and try to fight back, or accept my fate and submit. My heartbeat pounds as they surround me.

    Thump-thump, thump-thump. Fear? Anticipation? Both flood my system with adrenaline.

    Everything slowed down as I watched Tony''s fist cut through the air and aimed directly at my right cheek. Tony''s shoulder turned first, cocking his left arm back behind his head, elbow raised high. His left foot pivoted to add torque to the blow while his right foot stepped forward, planting solidly. I swear I could see the rippling of every muscle fiber in Tony''s shoulder and bicep as his coiling arm sprang forward like a viper. Tony''s fingers curled into a hardened fist split seconds before it would smash into my right jawline.

    Tony''s bunched knuckles lead the strike, the bones of his wrist and forearm lining up behind like a spear thrust. His wrists aligned for maximum power, thumb locked rigidly outside his tight fingers. Eyes glaring down the length of his swinging limb directly into mine, elbow staying tucked. Everything in his knotted arm channeled forward toward the four knuckles blistering towards vulnerable flesh on my right cheek. His fist lands with a meaty smack, causing me to tumble back a few steps tripping over my backpack. Pain explodes through my jaw, rattling my skull. Wow, after one hit I''m already on the ground. My head is already rattled from the one punch. Although I kept losing my footing I managed to get up again. There is no way I''m going to stay down.

    Everything happened too quick as Mateo''s wild haymaker of a punch careened towards my midsection. Mateo turned his torso awkwardly, overextending his shoulder as his bent right arm flailed forward with no guard up. I watched Mateo''s feet fumble for balance, left foot scraping across the ground instead of providing a solid base to drive from.

    Mateo''s fingers splay haphazardly instead of welding together in a hard fist, robbing the blow of concentrated impact. His amateurishly dangling wrist makes him unable to stack power behind the knuckles. Without pivoting his mass properly, Mateo''s bicep and lats can barely accelerate the clumsy swing barreling for my stomach. Tracking the gangly limb thrust wildly, no technique or finesse guides the blow, only adrenaline and fear. Not a shred of technique in his form. Just flailing, off-target violence divorced from the art form''s sacred geometry. As his fist makes an impact on my stomach knocking the air out of me he loses his balance taking a few steps to the side to rebalance himself.

    Bill then takes this opportunity to get in a hit of his own. All movement decelerated to freeze frame as he hammered his leg at my unprotected ribs. His torso turned forcefully first, rotating at the waist while his left arm raised for counterbalance. He pivoted his hip strongly as his right foot planted with a twist and driving push downward. I take in every fiber of lean muscle wrapping around his thigh and calf - from quadriceps to crunched hamstring now springing open like a piston. His toes point back with toes aimed like daggers for maximum penetration, starting a devastating arc toward my side. The heavy sole of his boot cutting through space as his weight shifts behind the driving momentum of his hip and angled leg. His eyes blaze at the point of contact as his tucked knee guides his mid swing shin and calf on a collision course with my ribs.

    I witnessed the soon-to-be-ruined architecture of my battered ribcage highlighted from the burning path of direction. Hip torque, knee drive, ankle locked - all force vectors beautifully synching into an eight pounds of airborne hardened leather bound for my open side. The art came not from the violence, but the perfection of human kinetics battering physics into a weaponized movement aimed at my vulnerable midsection. Fiery agony lances up my side as my ribs give an audible crack at the impact.

    Thump-thump, thump-thump. Once again I felt my heart start pounding loudly.

    All 3 of them throwing hit after hit. My eyes watch their movements as I instinctively cover my body from their attacks. Bill grabs the collar of my shirt and my left arm and throws me towards the back wall following up with another kick to my body. His boot slams against already broken ribs, the flare of pain causing my vision to white out for a split second. I crash hard into brick, clipping my head sharply. Blood trickles into one eye.

    Leaning against the brick Tony then walks up to me grabbing my hair and lifting my head to look him in the eye. I stare right back at him to see his face, a smirk grows on his lips as he cocks his fist and prepares for another right cross.

    Thump-thump, thump-thump. My heart for a final time pounds through my chest threatening to claw its way out.

    This feeling of being outmatched. In a situation outside of any advantage. Outnumbered 3 to 1¡ªno way to defend myself. I don''t understand this feeling I''m having. I haven''t thrown a punch, yet I continue to stand. Watching every attack they throw with the utmost attention, analyzing every movement.

    This feeling surges through me, an electric euphoria even as the one before me prepares another attack. Pain and danger warn me that I am outmatched, yet... my heart thunders with exhilaration. Everything plays through my mind like a time-lapse. Every detail from every move they hit me with plays in my head over and over again until-.

    I see.

    The edges of my lips begin to form a large grin. I make eye contact with Tony, my sight still hazy. I see him freeze for a moment, his form wavering after looking at me. Is it the smile? Actually, why am I smiling? This feeling I am having is making me unconsciously smile at my situation. Ha, and here I thought I didn''t like pain. Perhaps I''m a masochist? No, that doesn''t seem right. What is it truly?

    As these thoughts go through my head I can hear one Mateo speak up, "He''s smiling?" At that moment, Tony threw the punch. It felt as if time went still. Once again, everything that happened in this one-sided beatdown flashed through my memory. Everything. Their forms, their reach, technique, timing, and each of their individual strengths behind every hit. It was all locked in. Tony''s punch approached my left cheek, my eyes following the blurry outline. My heart pounding as loud as ever, blood racing through my veins. I know where it''s going to hit, he''s going for my chin. Then, my body moves. I lean my head to the left and push my body along with it. Just enough to where his fist grazes my right cheek and collides with the brick wall behind me. Releasing me he backs up holding his hand. Bill looks at me quizzically as Mateo only spares me a glance as he goes over to Tony. He watches me as I continue to stand leaning against the wall. I begin to chuckle, and then a maniacal laugh takes over my subtle chuckle.

    Bill finally spoke up, "I think we hit him too hard in the head." He began to slowly approach and adjusted his footing.

    Left roundhouse.

    My grin grows wider as I squat down watching his left foot fly over my head.

    Ah, what precision. Not too far, nor too close.

    I hear the skid of his boot against the brick. My eyes lock on to his. His eyes widened seeing his missed kick had made him vulnerable. So I took advantage of it. Utilizing my squatted position I leap toward him. Seeing me coming after him, he haphazardly lifts one of his arms in defense. But I''m not going after his head. I shoulder tackle him in the side launching him forward due to his lack of balance. He grunts as he hits the ground. Mateo and Tony look over at him as he rolls next to them. All of them look at me gathering themselves. They see me start laughing in a maniacal tone while I look up at the sky feeling the cool rain on my face.

    I almost sound like I''m in pure bliss as I speak for the first time since it all began, "Haha, I see! I see now!" I watch the rain fall, feeling every drop land on my bruised face. "I can see it now. I see, everything!" Why was I speaking out loud you may ask? Who knows, I was just in the moment. My eyes slowly land back on my three pursuers. The ones who had hunted me down and cornered me in this nice secluded spot.

    "Ah, there it is." My mind then plays out every scenario. Telling me what to do for whoever decides to make the first move. It is an overwhelming feeling but I know that it will clear up once I see at least one of them move. However, no one moves. They shift back and forth looking uncomfortable.

    Huh? No come on, don''t tease me like this. Don''t back down now. You should think that you all have the upper hand.

    I raise both my hands in irritation, "What''s going on guys, things are barely getting interesting. Don''t kill the mood. Where''s the arrogance? The passion? The aggression?" I point to Tony, "Tony my man, what happened, if you''re already out for the count that''s a pretty embarrassing way to do it. Punching this poor brick wall." I turn to it and gently stroke my hand over it. "He was on your side more than mine so I think the violence against him was unnecessary."

    Tony leaned over to Bill, "Do we know him?"

    Bill responded, "No, never met him before. What do you mean?"

    "How did he know my name was Tony?"

    My eyes lit up, "AH HA, I knew you were a Tony!" I pat myself on the head. "No I''ve never met you, or Bill here."

    Bill looked at me in surprise, "H-how did you-"

    I pumped my fist, "Fuck yeah! Mateo, I''m telling you man I''m good at this."

    Mateo looked at me quizzically and then around the area. After seeing that I was talking to him he spoke, "Um, my name is Cody."

    I fell to my knees and fell over on all fours looking at the ground in pure despair. "No... it can''t be. Why. Why would you do this to me Mateo."

    "I-it''s Cody-"

    "Shut it Mateo, I''ve had enough disappointment for one day! First you break the diverse accents, then you have no fighting skills whatsoever, and now you reject your own name."

    "I''m telling you my name is-"

    I yell in outrage slamming my fist to the ground, "YOU HAVE NO FINESSE YOU DAMN SIMPLETON!"

    Mateo who thinks his name is "Cody" just stared at me in disbelief. "W-why does this hurt my feelings?"

    "Rejoice Mateo, for now you will remember this day. The day you disappointed me beyond belief. Use this to reflect on your actions."

    "But-"

    "No, I don''t want to hear it. Be. Better."

    I swear I could see a tear begin to glisten in his eye. Tony and Bill look back and forth between us. They looked at Mateo with sympathy. Tony shook his head and then smacked Mateo on his shoulder with his good hand. "The fuck are you doing? He''s just one guy. Why are we hesitating."

    My smile returned, upon hearing this. I got back to my feet. "Yes, yes now you''ve got it."

    Mateo wipes his eyes and then glares at me. All three once again ready to pummel me. My heart begins to pound once more. I have definitely awakened something within me. The thrill of a fight. A fight that has all odds stacked against me. Mateo steps forward to make the first move. Honestly, I''m kind of disappointed but it was expected he would come after me first since I degraded him.

    He steps forward and reels back for a punch.

    Oh? I see a little improvement.

    However, the improvement means nothing considering he''s not close enough. I lean my head back a little and his punch stops before reaching me.

    I sighed in disappointment, "You see?" I grab him by the wrist and pull him toward me. "No¡­" I lift my leg to the side and trip him as he moves past me. "...Finesse." He lands face-first into the brick wall.

    Bill then moves in. I turn to him and my wide grin returns. He gets into a stance as I quickly close the distance. He puts one foot forward and raises his hands up, giving a subtle hop on each foot. Time slows as I analyze his movements. Once again I see his torso turned forcefully first, rotating at the waist while his left arm raised for counterbalance. He pivoted his hip strongly as his right foot planted with a twist and driving push downward. I watch as his toes point back at me aimed like daggers for full penetration, starting its arc toward my side.

    I have seen this before~

    I stop just outside his range. His boot wisps past my shirt. He notices me stopping and then moves closer to hit me with a spinning back kick. I twist my body to the side dodging his attack. Once again he closes the distance just a little more. He lifts his leg up high and goes for an axe kick directly above me. I step to the side narrowly dodging his falling boot as his heel slams into the pavement.

    Tony then steps in, throwing a left straight. I lean my head back avoiding his fist. He then throws two jabs. Both just missing me by an inch. He then throws a right-body uppercut. This one surprised me because I thought he had broken his fist. I continue to avoid all of their attacks as Mateo starts to recover, his nose bleeding and eyebrow scraped. He joins in on the barrage of attacks I continue to avoid. Although they are mistaking one thing. I''m not just avoiding the attacks, I''m learning. Consuming them. Not too soon after, they begin to start breathing a little heavier. I''m just as exhausted but the adrenaline is keeping me going as if I didn''t need to breathe at all. Soon after they pause on their attacks looking at each other. Tony nods his head over to Mateo signaling him to circle around me. Bill picks up on this and he does the same. Meanwhile I on the other hand take a deep breath in.

    After drinking in every attack, I analyzed each motion and predicted the angles of contact. My heart was hammering louder with each repeated attack. Each of their forms had slowed into defined snapshots for me to look over as if to try it out for myself.

    You know what? That doesn''t sound like a bad idea.

 Chapter 3 - Well If It Isnt The Consequences of YOUR Actions

    I look over at the man with all the kicks, Bill, then slowly put my left foot forward, and my right foot back, raise my hands, then subtly hop back and forth on each foot. His face turns pale as his eyes widen. In that instant, I make my move.

    I hammered my leg at his unprotected ribs. My torso turned forcefully first, rotating at the waist while my right arm raised for counterbalance. I pivoted my hip strongly as my left foot planted with a twist and driving push downward. I feel every fiber of muscle wrapping around my thigh and calf - from quadriceps to crunched hamstring now springing open like a piston. My toes point back at him, aimed like daggers for maximum penetration, starting a devastating arc toward his side. The light sole of my worn shoe cutting through space as my weight shifts behind the driving momentum of my hip and angled leg. My eyes blaze at the point of contact as my tucked knee guides my mid swing shin and calf on a collision course with his ribs.

    He witnessed the soon-to-be-ruined architecture of his ribcage highlighted from the burning path of direction. Hip torque, knee drive, ankle lock - all force vectors beautifully synching into an eight pounds of airborne hardened leather bound for his open side. His face winced as a fiery agony lances up his side as his ribs gave an audible crack at the impact.

    Nailed it.

    He grunted as he grabbed his side and leaned over. Tony watches him double over, "What the f-" He''s interrupted by me throwing a right cross of my own.

    My fist cut through the air and aimed directly at his left cheek. My shoulder turned first, cocking my right arm back behind my head, elbow raised high. My right foot pivoted to add torque to the blow while my left foot stepped forward, planting solidly. I could feel the rippling of every muscle fiber in my shoulder and bicep as my coiling arm sprang forward like a viper. My fingers curled into a hardened fist split seconds before it would smash into his left jawline.

    I then turn around to Mateo. He jumps after catching my gaze. Not once did he move. He just watched as I hit those two with their own techniques. For you my dear Mateo, I''m not going to do you a disservice by hitting you with your own attacks. I''ll treat you just as I''ve treated them. On second thought, I''ll give you both of their techniques. I rushed forward and charged an uppercut for his body. I made impact through his poor defense. I then follow up with a spinning sidekick to the same spot.

    As he falls back against a trash bin, he vomits into his own lap before losing consciousness. I hear Bill''s footsteps coming from behind me. I spin my head around just in time to see him throwing another roundhouse. A golden opportunity presents itself. I throw another spinning back kick toward his leg and the heel of my foot lands directly on his kneecap. The two colliding forces are still for only a fraction of a second, and then his knee gives and bends backward with a snap. He screams in pain as he rolls backwards into the wall holding his flailing leg.

    Tony throws another jab, I pull my head back just in time only to receive a small graze on my chin. Then goes on a full offensive assault. I respond in kind. I bob and weave all of his shots as he throws his quick jabs and straights with the occasional cross or uppercut. I land a few jabs and straights, and he grunts at every hit.

    "What the fuck are you?" He spits out of his bloodied mouth. "Wipe that grin off your face you fucking lunatic!"

    We continue to exchange blows. He lands a blow or two but so far he hasn''t been able to avoid any of my hits. My heart continues to threaten to explode from my chest blow for blow. I then feel something tug at my leg. I spare a glance to see Bill grabbing my leg trying to pull me down. Tony notices this and takes advantage of my opening. He lands several blows to my face and abdomen. I spartan kick Tony backwards causing him to stumble. This gave me time to deal with Bill. I twist my leg out, sit on top of him, and throw 3 right crosses to his left chin. Boom. Boom. On the final strike, I put all of my force into it throwing my shoulder out of its socket. I know I did because there was an audible pop I felt in my shoulder. Strangely enough, I didn''t feel anything. Maybe I''m overthinking it?

    Soon after, Tony gathers himself, he charges after me roaring at the top of his lungs. I jump up and ram a knee right into the center of his chest forcing him back to the ground. He collapses to the ground, holding his chest heaving. I also breathe heavily. I''ve never overexerted myself so much. The adrenaline is still flowing within me. It''s only a matter of time before it wears off and everything hits me at once. But it doesn''t matter, I won. I raise my fist in the air in a stance of victory.

    "Why?" Tony muttered. "Why didn''t you fight back until now?"

    Looking down at him, "Why didn''t I? That is a good question."

    This excitement. I love it. I can''t get over it. Why have I never fought before? Why have I always been afraid of these kinds of confrontations? This is such a thrilling experience. The sheer thrill of a fight.

    "I don''t really have a good answer for you that wouldn''t shatter your pride." I lay my eyes on him. "So instead, I thank you. Thank you, for awakening this side of me I never knew I had."

    Tony then rests his head down, pavement against his cheek, and falls unconscious next to Bill just as the rain begins to cease falling.

    I chuckle a bit. Wow, that was quite the display I put on. I, who has no combat experience whatsoever, just managed to win a 3v1.

    Will Mom let me off the hook if she finds out I won? No, probably not.

    If anything Dad will join in just to degrade their parents even further by grilling into them that their kids lost to an inexperienced underclassmen of which they had outnumbered. Yeah, I need to find some excuse. Maybe just play the fool who didn''t even know who-. That was my final thought before the adrenaline wore off. All of the pain and exhaustion hit me at once. My chest was heaving hard trying to catch air, my body aching from all of the movement I did with my injuries.

    Idiot.

    I stumble back into the brick wall at the end of the alley, groaning in pain. Sliding down the rough surface, I land with a thunk in a small puddle that had formed. My chest continually rises and lowers, ragged gasps escaping my lips as I try to gather my bearings. The rain, which before was blanketing the area since the chase reached its end, has finally sputtered to a stop. As the world catches its breath, a shaft of sunlight pierces through the clouds, a warm spotlight illuminating the grimy rainwater clinging to my face. The sudden kiss of sunshine feels like a small mercy, a flicker of hope in the grimy alleyway. A drip of sweat runs down my cheek as I take in the lights¡¯ warmth against my cool skin. This is when I finally take a look at myself.

    Ah man... my pants are wet.

    My eyes opened, and I found myself staring at an unfamiliar ceiling. I tried to get up, but immediately regretted it as a groan of frustration escaped my lips.

    "Good morning sleeping beauty," said a deep voice.

    The sound of a stranger startled me. I jumped up from where I lay and backed up, knocking over a shelf, the sound of shattering glass filling the room. I collapsed again, the spike of pain overwhelming me even after a surge of adrenaline.

    "Damn, am I that scary? Should I have shaved?"

    I winced at the pain and tried to get back up, but my body refused, screaming in protest.

    The stranger walked over to me and helped me back onto the bed. "Jeez, the wrap will heal you over time. Just relax and rest for a bit, okay?"

    "Who are you? Where am I?" I asked, my throat parched.

    Passing me a glass of water he spoke again. ¡°Hm? Ah, my name is Chronos, Chronos Elior. As for where you are, you are in my home, even knocking over my favorite shelf.¡±

    He looked over to the opposite side of the room with a hand outstretched towards the shelf in question. Following his gaze with the glass of water at my lips I froze. A cold sweat begins to ensue as my mind begins running a million miles an hour processing every detail of what I''m witnessing, hoping and praying it''s not as I see it. That shelf in particular had numerous plants on it which are scattered all over the ground with broken glass and spilled soil. That isn''t the primary concern. On the ground a container lay on its side, glinting silver against the dim stone. Intricate carved runes and symbols decorated its polished metal surface. Nearby rested a lid, displaced from its proper position atop the object. Spilled across the floor, fine powder had escaped the object''s confines. Gray and wispy, almost forming shapes before drifting into formlessness.

    As for why I''m talking about its details... a good question but I don''t have a good answer for you other than trying to see if there''s a way it isn''t what I believe it is.

    ¡°Umm¡­ that metal thing¡­ it wouldn¡¯t happen to be an oversized ashtray would it?¡± Sweat running down my face with my ass cheeks clenched.

    ¡°Oh no, that''s the Mrs.¡±

    I KNEW IT, IT''S AN URN!!! Mom... Dad, I love you. Please live a long healthy life. And Iris, don¡¯t grow up to be like your dumb older brother.

    Avoiding his gaze I just stare at the wall hoping that it just opens for me to walk out, then I hear the sound of someone... spitting? I looked to my right and saw the man was gone, I looked to my left at the wall to see him standing over the urn.

    OH MY GOD, HE JUST SPAT ON HER ASHES!

    "Hmph, letting some kid knock you over, pathetic." He turned around and walked back with his hands behind his back as if he had just finished lecturing someone. This allowed me to get a better look at him. He has dark brown hair that is naturally slicked back with a beard complimenting his chiseled chin. Tanned skin and a muscular physique that really leaks through his clothes. He''s wearing a red hoodie with characters on his back saying ''Elysium #22¡¯ with the academy insignia at the center. A necklace around his neck with a crucifix hanging a couple of inches below the collarbone. He was tall, very tall. From my point of view, I''d say over 7 feet. Then again I''m currently 5''4 at age 13 so it''s not like I have a good way of measuring besides the fact that he just towers over everything. The last detail I noticed is his eyes. A crimson red that glints in the light.

    ¡°Umm I suppose you didn¡¯t have the best relationship with your wife?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Huh?¡± He looked at me like I had just insulted him. He began to shout, ¡°THAT WOMAN IS THE GREATEST THING TO EVER HAPPEN TO ME! I¡¯VE ANNIHILATED COUNTLESS FOES FOR THAT WOMAN. AND I WOULD DO IT AGAIN!¡±

    Ah¡­ yeah, I don¡¯t understand a thing.

    He cleared his throat gathering himself, ¡°Our relationship was... a complicated one yes, but we were a very competitive pair. Which is what made us both inseparable and untouchable.¡± He sat down next to me and placed a hand on my rib cage. "Well it seems like your ribs have been put back into place, just a few more minutes and then you should be good to go.¡±

    There was an awkward silence between us, I finally spoke up, "What was her name?"Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    "Amelia.¡±

    What a nice name. ¡°I''m... I''m sorry I knocked over Amelia''s ashes.¡±

    ¡°Hm? Oh those aren''t her ashes."

    "HUH?!" My eyes were wide with shock.

    He began laughing so hard he began to tear up. "Haha, I gotcha didn''t I? It''s just regular wood ashes. I keep that there so I can mess with people who visit." He paused and scratched his chin. "Maybe that''s why people stopped coming over?"

    "You don''t have many friends do you?" I said deadpanned.

    He began to sound a little melancholic which kind of threw me off guard considering how he has been acting so far, "I-I have friends, they just have busier lives. I tried to live a life similar to theirs but, I just couldn''t do it. That life isn''t meant for me." I would have felt a little bad if he wasn''t staring distantly into a wall.

    There''s no window there buddy. I hope you know that.

    "Oh well I digress, just try not to move, the wrap will slip and I''ll have to rewrap it."

    "Wrap?" I looked down and actually took a good look at what was around my chest and abdomen. I see what seems to be a bandage wrapped tightly around my torso, emitting a soft golden glow. The bandage is crafted from a finely woven material that seems to radiate light from every thread. It encircles my abdomen and chest in a snug embrace, pulsating with gentle warmth. I feel energy radiating from the luminous cloth into my cracked ribs and torn muscles underneath. Gingerly, I run my fingers over the opaque binding. It is smooth to the touch and surprisingly sturdy despite its gossamer appearance. The glowing fibers generate a subtle heat that spreads deeper with each breath I take.

    ¡°A medela wrap helps restore broken bones and torn muscle fibers, but it¡¯s not a quick process.¡± He then put on a pair of lensless glasses, pulled out an empty clipboard, and began to speak after adjusting his glasses. For what purpose I don''t know, but he looked at the clipboard and continued. ¡°Broken ribs, dislocated shoulder, multiple bruises on your face, left eye is swollen, possible concussion, and a cut right above your right eye. Luckily your ribs didn''t puncture your lungs, regardless, if you had taken a few more hits there, it could have been worse. Once the healing process starts it takes roughly 2 hours for all the bones to realign and heal. Afterwards you need to take off the wrap and allow the body to adjust itself for about a day before placing it back on yourself to complete the healing process without the body rejecting it. Amazing right? What usually takes one to two months to heal naturally, healed in over a couple of days.¡±

    He gets up and walks over to a chair that has my shirt hanging over it. He grabs it, then places the shirt on the end table next to me and continues speaking. "Granted this is only because you aren''t awakened yet, if you were awakened, you wouldn''t need to go through a whole treatment process for your injuries. However, if this was one of the academies or anyplace that has access to medela technology above Blue, then this would only need about 15 minutes.¡± He might have been talking about it to set me at ease, but I didn¡¯t know any better. I was actually kind of intrigued about how this wrap worked.

    I then asked, "What rank would this wrap be?"

    "I don''t know, probably green." I gave him a questioning look. "Haha, I made it myself so I couldn''t tell you what rank this is. You see I was never a good healer so if there was ever a scenario where I needed to do something healing related, I had these at least. Sure I could have bought some of the good ones but there''s a certain pride in using things you make you know?" He gave an innocent look lifting his shoulders, "I was never much of a craftsman either when it came to support items."

    "You... can''t be serious," I said deadpanned.

    "Okay, okay, I do have better things. However I can''t necessarily use them willy nilly, especially on you. You haven''t awakened like I said, it would ruin your aura channels before you could awaken. Unless I actually was an experienced healer and knew how to tailor a better medela wrap to suit you. Make sense? If I specialized in healing then there wouldn''t be an issue and I wouldn''t even need to use such low level equipment such as this wrap."

    "How would it ruin my aura channels if I haven''t awakened?"

    He thought for a moment, "Think of it like a blood transfusion, you need a specific type of blood for the procedure, yes? There are 4 blood groups and their own versions of each, positive/negative that sort of thing. The blood type you are is the blood type you receive. With aura however, everyone is unique to them. So if I was to attempt to use my aura to try and heal your injuries without the proper skills, I could just as easily overload your aura channels, crippling you and your advancement or potentially killing you. If I was a healer, I¡¯d basically be the ¡®O-¡¯ of auras."

    "K-kill me?!"

    "Haha, yes, kill you. I''m quite strong, you know."

    "What if I was awakened?"

    "Same thing."

    "What? But you said-"

    "I said it before, I''m not specialized in healing. If I was, we wouldn''t be having this conversation. I''d have fixed you up right where I found you."

    So there are limits to what you can do? I always had the impression that once you were a high enough rank you could do anything with no issue.

    I look up at him taking another sip of water, ¡°Wait so if your aura is so strong, what rank are you?"

    He was about to speak up then stopped himself. After contemplating for a bit before giving me a smirk and speaking, "I''m strong enough to where I don''t really need to worry about too much. I don''t typically give out the specifics of how strong I am because it gives me 1 of 3 outcomes that I''d rather avoid.

    <ol>

    <li> They think I''m bullshitting.</li>

    <li> They suddenly feel the need to treat me like I''m going to hurt them and everyone they love if they don''t make my coffee properly.</li>

    <li> They treat me like a VIP and act like they can''t say no to a thing I say. </li>

    </ol>

    3 is the most common, I like casual conversations, you know?"

    That wasn''t really anything for me to work with other than that he might be Red since the majority of the ones who can live comfortably are ranked there. He smirked at me again, "I know you''re trying to figure out what rank my aura is. Not that it really matters if you can guess or not, but it''s still funny to see the face you make when you''re trying to figure it out."

    Aura ranks are common knowledge so there isn''t a reason I shouldn''t know or anyone for that matter. After awakening you start at Green, then the ranks go as follows, Blue, Violet, Red, Orange, Yellow, and White. I mean I understand why he would want to hide it. I suppose I can just let it slide. This time.

    Then a question occurred to me, "Wait, if you''re already awakened, why didn''t you help me?"

    He raised an eyebrow, "Is that under the assumption I watched the entire thing unfold?"

    I opened my mouth to respond but nothing came out. That''s true, I didn''t think about that. "True, but how did you find me so soon after it all ended?"

    He then avoids my gaze. "I-I was... just in the area."

    "Uh-huh."

    Bullshit.

    Yeah, I''m not buying it. "So you just so happened to be in the area where after the person in question, me, was being chased by three upperclassmen out of the residential districts into downtown. Then one of them, managing to catch up, pulled me into an isolated alley. Soon after I was graced with a completely one-sided beat down by my three pursuers, yet you decided to sit and watch the entire thing unfold."

    "To be fair I-"

    "You could have at least called the police. Or better yet the Ascendant''s Association."

    "Now you see that would have complicated things especially for me because I am not on the best of-"

    "Forget that, just answer these 3 questions. When did you start watching? Why didn''t you do anything to stop the fight? Why did you help me after it all ended?"

    Chronos took a deep breath, "You all first caught my attention after one of them used their freshly awakened aura. As you know the laws require a freshly awakened to immediately report it to the A.A. for evaluation and orientation within at least 24 hours. From there they are given a bind to suppress their aura from being used until they undergo proper aura training, blah, blah, blah, so those who haven''t awakened yet won''t be hurt, blah, blah, blah, aura make me strong I can do whatever I want, but angry Sentinels enforce the laws you get the point. From the way his aura felt it was most certainly not an awakening. A new aura yes, but I could sense it had been a month since they had awakened. In other words, using their aura in public is a big no no. And it piqued my curiosity because I had sensed 2 other suppressed auras and, you, someone who hasn''t awakened yet. So about the time you were pulled into the alley is when I started watching."

    Okay, that makes sense. Maybe he was in the area, at least for the start of it.

    "As for why I didn''t do anything, I would have intervened if he had decided to use his aura to beat you. It''s a good thing he had his friends to tell him to put his bind back on suppressing his aura from being used completely. Aura and emotions play hand-in-hand. The weaker you are, the more prone you are to acting on impulse. Anyways since he put it back on I held off on doing anything but kept an eye on the situation just in case one of them decided to take it too far. My original intention was to call for an ambulance once it was done so you could get some immediate help with experts of course. Then report the antics of the 3 others to the A.A. afterward to get their licenses suspended and pull some strings to have them end up having to go through all kinds of steps just to get a re-evaluation."

    I can somewhat understand. Considering that all 3 of them had some backing there''s no telling what kind of trouble he could get into. Although then again considering that he might be ranked Red or above, family connections would be irrelevant just from his own individual power alone so my skepticism remained because of one thing he had mentioned. I spoke up, "Wait weren''t you going to say something along the lines of you not being on the best of terms with the A.A?"

    He scratched the back of his head in embarrassment, "Y-yeah, we aren''t on the best of terms but I can still put in a good word to the right people who want to do some good you know?"

    Now that also makes sense, but I''m still skeptical. Most of my experience comes from what my parents taught me when it came to how to treat others as well as protect those in need. It may sound a bit hypocritical considering I hesitated to help heroine number 1 earlier. That was mostly because, now hear me out, there wasn''t exactly an obvious situation that she would be hurt the way she did. I should stop, I''m just making excuses for myself. Speaking of which, I wonder how she is.

    "Anyways regarding your last question, ''Why did I help you after it all ended?'' Assuming you''re referring to me taking you into my home and taking care of you personally, well to be frank, you piqued my interest."

    I raised an eyebrow then covered my body with my arms as if he had a lecherous gaze, "What do you mean I piqued your interest? I don''t swing that way so I''ll have to turn you down."

    He sputtered and fumbled over his words, taking my words seriously, "W-what no, I told you I have a wife. And I''m not interested in little boys either so you can-. You''re fucking with me aren''t you?"

    I was wondering how he caught on, but perhaps the impish grin on my face gave me away.

    Clearly unamused he continued, "What I mean is you piqued my interest in terms of your combat prowess. Very few times have I seen someone take a one sided beating then turn the tables, mimicking everything they did and using it against them. Not to mention you looked like you were having the time of your life once you started fighting back. At first you were there cowering in fear accepting your beating like a submissive weakling. But you stood tall regardless. And even after all that you weren''t just taking the beating for nothing. You were learning from the looks of it. I saw you throw a punch and kick for the first time during the fight. You made it seem like you had always been able to. Then you read their attacks, predicting their every move and avoiding them almost flawlessly. Tell me, who trained you?"

    To be honest, I thought it might have just been a way my mind was coping, but no, I remember it vividly. The sting of my knuckles after colliding with flesh and bone. The recoil on my quads and calves after the impact on Bill''s ribs. The sheer thrill of the fight. This feeling within myself was definitely me. Not to mention just the fact that someone like me managed to fight back using their own moves. I was able to learn their attacks, patterns, forms, everything. Just from watching and experiencing them first hand.

    After gathering my thoughts of the situation I answered his question, "No one, I don''t have any fighting experience. That was the first time I had ever fought someone."

    He rose both eyebrows, "Oh?" A grin began to tease the corner of his cheeks. "Then let me ask you a few questions, after all I answered yours, it''s only fair."

    "I suppose that''s true, ask away."

    "1st question."

    "Didn''t you already ask your first question?"

    He chuckled, "2nd question. Tell me, when you were being attacked by them, how did it feel? Don''t leave any details out, I want to know what exactly it was that you were feeling when you were watching them."

    "Okay, well-" I began recalling the first few moments of the fight. I recalled the moment Tony threw his first punch. How it felt as if time slowed giving me time to drink in every movement he made. I also explained what happened with Bill and Mateo, including my harsh criticisms regarding Mateo''s amateurish fighting. How my heart was racing and continued to increase in tempo before I decided to fight back. Chronos was taking in everything I was saying. He didn''t interrupt, he listened carefully and nodded as I explained how I felt.

    His grin grew after I finished speaking, "Last question. Explain how it felt once you began to fight back."

    I paused for a moment before answering. I lifted my hands and looked at them. I analyzed the small cuts on my knuckles. The divets in my palms where my fingernails were digging in. The slight tinge of pain in my right shoulder. A grin began to take over my face as I responded, "It... it was fun. It was... so much fun."

 Chapter 4 - Lets Save the Exposition for Another Day

    The adrenaline still buzzed in my veins as I recounted the exhilarating fight against Tony, Bill, and Mateo. Chronos nodded along, his eyes sparkling with approval. I was startled when he joined me in a low growl of disdain at the mention of Mateo. I guess he has some similar run-ins with Mateo''s of his own.

    He seemed intrigued when I talked about the actual fighting, how I explained my movements, and adapted Bill and Tony''s techniques to my advantage. I mimicked them perfectly, even adding my own flair¡ªlike that spinning back kick against Bill, which, incidentally, broke his leg. He was also fascinated by my mastery of their attacks. With Tony, for instance, I was able to predict every move from his posture and body language. This allowed me to adapt, find flaws, and counterattack seamlessly and instantly.

    My cheeks burned as I realized how long I''d been talking. I will say though, it feels good to talk about it with someone. I can still feel it, the excitement.

    He cleared his throat, breaking the silence. ¡°What you just described, kid," he started, ¡°is battle euphoria. The thrill of a fight¡­ makes you feel more alive than ever. As for when you were fighting, it was more than likely a warrior''s trance, which is something similar to flow state but it''s something that can be controlled somewhat. A warrior''s trance is essentially when you get hyper-focused in the fight, all of your senses become one, you can move more fluidly with your body. In other words, it''s a trance-like state entered in the heat of combat where instincts and training take over.¡±

    "What separates a warrior''s trance from a flow state?" I pressed.

    "The only thing that makes it different from flow state is that you were completely conscious of yourself and made your own decisions. You stopped and spoke to everyone and was able to recall the entire experience. If you were in a flow state you wouldn''t have even spoken to them, you would have been fighting with 100% efficiency meaning not wasting a single second. I''ve seen some instances where they aren''t even breathing for long periods of time. So in other words you quite literally let instincts and training take over. You leave it all to those two things alone. Once your instincts know the goal, Jesus takes the wheel from there."

    I pondered that for a moment. Is it not something you can just trigger yourself? Or do you need to be in a dire situation like I was for it to trigger? I asked him this of course, since it piqued my curiosity.

    "A warrior''s trance can be triggered with proper training. It''s a lot of mental training especially since it regards your instincts. Flow state however can''t be self triggered at earlier ranks. People have tried, none have succeeded, just another phenomenon of the human body. But I can assure you, that if someone is in a situation where they get into a flow state, they are the most dangerous person in the room. If a dog would chew off its own leg for survival, just imagine what a human would be capable of doing in a flow state."

    I asked him another question, "Battle Euphoria, is that something that is triggered?"

    He tilted his head to the side a bit, "Not necessarily, battle euphoria is something natural within you. So essentially when you are in the midst of a fight or have the chance of a fight, it''s triggered. But not just any fight it seems with you."

    My eyebrows furrowed, "What do you mean?"

    "You need a real fight. Meaning there has to be some risk. If not at risk, then you need to be experiencing something you''ve never seen before. This is a shot in the dark but I''m sure you''d also feel it from a prolonged match as well. From what you described, you seem to adapt as you fight so I could see it growing as you fight on."

    "I also had the feeling when I realized I was outclassed and outnumbered."

    He nodded pointing directly at me, "That is included with the risk. Because you were outclassed you are feeling the excitement. You, my boy, are a battle junkie."

    "You make it sound like a drug."

    He chuckled, "Because for you, it is. And to be completely honest, I am a battle junkie too."

    I raised an eyebrow, "Really? You like fighting?"

    "Of course, the thrill of a good fight is unmatched. Trust me when I say I understand you on a personal level."

    This made me feel kind of better in a sense. To be fair, there was a part of me that felt a bit embarrassed with the fact that fighting was like a high for me. But since he said he is in a similar position I suppose it isn''t as bad as I thought. Considering he isn''t wreaking havoc everywhere he goes to get the feeling of a fight. I guess I worried about nothing.

    "Speaking of you, you never gave me your name."

    Right, I never introduced myself. I had only asked for his name when I regained consciousness. "Raiden, Raiden Alaric."Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    "Raiden huh, anyone call you Rai?"

    "Just those close to me." It¡¯s really just my family.

    He nods, "Well then, Rai, how old are you?"

    "13."

    "13? So you should be awakening soon."

    I rubbed the back of my head, "I''m... not so sure about that."

    "What do you mean?"

    I averted my gaze, "I haven''t had... a revelation yet."

    We both sat there in silence, only the sound of Chronos scratching his beard.

    "Okay? And?"

    I stared at him, "I-I haven''t had a revelation yet?"

    "So, what is that supposed to mean?"

    I was beginning to question his knowledge of the subject. "Because I haven''t had a revelation yet I can''t begin the awakening process to develop an aura-forging technique. Because of that, I am unable-"

    He raised a hand cutting me off, "So you''re telling me that you haven''t had a revelation yet therefore you can''t begin forging your aura?"

    "Yes?"

    "So then you at least have access to your Aether Realm right?"

    "What? No of course not, I don''t gain access until-"

    Interrupting me Chronos spoke in a mocking tone, " ''Developed your own technique'' blah blah blah, I have heard enough."

    ''"I don''t understand, am I saying something wrong?"

    "Yes, yes you are. What you are describing is the basic standard that has been widely adopted by the masses and pushed by certain groups to somewhat ¡®gatekeep¡¯ advancement post-awakening. Tell me, how many Ascendants talk about their revelation after reaching Violet rank?"

    I opened my mouth to answer, but stopped myself seeing Chronos smirking. He''s right, a revelation is for one''s drive for advancement. I don''t recall anyone after leaving Blue Rank talking about their revelation. Instead-

    "They talk about their path. Not to say a revelation becomes irrelevant, rather it can change and is essential to one''s advancement after reaching Violet. Primarily because the threshold for each advancement becomes more and more difficult to overcome to reach the next rank. Which is why you see many Ascendants hit a wall within Violet and Red. Granted they don''t teach this in most unaffiliated schools since it''s not really knowledge you casually come around at such an early stage. Rather it''s taught at the Ascendant academies all over the world. Only there will you get genuine and unabridged information within the world of advancement."

    I pondered that for a moment before speaking again, "Do the academies really have all the information?"

    "Yes and no, they have all information regarding advancement, aura manipulation, forging techniques, esoteric arts, etc. yes, but only until Red rank. Violet is a gray area depending on if the path you take is pretty mainstream or in a certain field, but Red is 100% on you to figure out. That''s primarily because the A.A. had signed an agreement with the U.N. to limit the knowledge shared because even at Red it becomes nearly impossible to give accurate information that could assist one''s advancement."

    I raised an eyebrow, "How does that work?"

    "Well you see-'''' He began to elaborate on some things regarding advancement in higher ranks while also withholding information to my dismay. He explained how the moment you reach Blue everything starts to change from there. Upon reaching Blue, your body begins going through changes physically and [redacted]. Yes, he said ¡®redacted¡¯ I¡¯m not kidding. Everyone knows that upon awakening the user will begin to lose body fat, allergies, mental disorders, illnesses, some physical impairments, etc. Everything that could negatively impact the user, is purged. Thus, making awakening highly sought after by those who have these conditions.

    So for Blue, you undergo more drastic physical changes. Your body becomes more toned, your features fairer, and all imperfections of your body just fade away or mold into a better shape to suit you. With this in mind, you also can regrow a limb that was either lost or was a birth defect. It becomes more difficult to gain scars let alone any form of skin blemishes. However you also do a hard purge of impurities within your body. The initial awakening essentially get''s your body into peak condition at a faster rate while Blue rank makes you. He wouldn''t elaborate much further than that.

    This I knew of in a sense because a pair of conjoined twins separated into two after they managed to reach Blue. The most important thing that you undergo is gaining esoteric affinities which he said he could explain at a later time because that would take him just as long if not longer as it''s an entirely different area of power.

    Continuing onto Violet, you get all of this and more that is difficult to explain and elaborate on. Primarily for the fact that comprehension of these aspects of what you gain makes more sense once it is experienced firsthand. I asked for further elaboration but he turned me down. Instead, he said that you gain glimpses of this power after reaching Blue, which becomes more prevalent upon reaching Violet. He also said that the physical changes also apply to Violet and beyond, however the changes you undergo will not be made just to suit you, but the path you are on. Because of these changes, it makes it difficult to find information regarding how to advance since it''s not a straight line, but rather a constantly shifting maze that becomes more elaborate and complex as you move toward the center. And as you progress, your aura becomes more and more unique to you, so much so that outside influence can''t simply assist without drawbacks. Even elixirs that are meant to help boost progress, begin lagging behind after a while. If this wasn''t the case, the wealthiest family sects and groups would have all White ranks within years of their kin awakening.

    I drank in all of this information. I wanted to know more.

    I had so many questions I wanted to ask but each time he cut me off with the same answer, "Let¡¯s save the exposition for another day." Even with him not further elaborating, he dumped this information on me. I still had a question I needed an answer for, "Alright, since you don''t agree with what I''ve been told about awakening and advancement, what do you suggest is the true path towards it?"

    He grinned wide enough to show his perfect white teeth. "I thought you''d never ask."

 Chapter 5 - Aether Realm

    Chronos Elior

    This is what I''ve been so eager for. Now that he¡¯s agreed, I can finally take a peek into his Aether Realm by projecting my astral body into his core. This method, though unconventional, offers a direct glimpse of his potential, a far more accurate gauge than the academy''s unreliable number scales for newly awakened. He¡¯s going to experience it for himself once he makes it into an academy so I won''t bother telling him the useless details for now.

    Even still, seeing his fight was certainly a sight to behold. It was very amateurish, that¡¯s a no-brainer. However, that change up in his energy I sensed, could not be ignored. Don¡¯t even get me started with his raw talent while in a fight. I¡¯ll look into more myself later, but for now, I need to see what type of core this kid has.

    I go ahead and let Rai know what I''m doing, "I am going to take a peek into your Aether Realm."

    He turned to me, giving a slight wince of pain. "But, I don''t have an Aether Realm yet."

    "Of course you do, it''s just not developed yet. Think of it like an empty bowl, you haven''t put any cereal or milk in it yet. The cereal is your soul, the milk is your aura. The perfect dynamic duo. Even undeveloped, your Aether Realm holds clues to your potential and the aura you¡¯ve been unconsciously building over the years. Just in case you weren''t aware, even though you have yet to awaken you are giving off an ambient aura as we speak. It''s very faint, but it''s enough to tell me, an Ascendant, that you aren''t awakened and have no control over your aura. After you awaken you don''t instantly gain control either so it just casually hangs around and you could break things very easily just from your new found strength alone. Hence why you are then given a bind until you meet the standard to not need one." I know I yap a lot, but he seems to not mind it one bit. If anything he seems to be interested in everything I have to say.

    "Okay, how does this lead to me awakening?"

    Oh yeah, I forgot that part.

    "So after I get a good look at what I¡¯m working with we can begin some basic foundations with aura control. Which is half physical training and half you meditating to get a feel for your aura. I¡¯m sure you know that some people are able to awaken easier than others and to be completely honest, it just depends on the person. I myself didn¡¯t awaken until I turned 16. That was after trying everything I could think of."

    He nodded, "Where does a revelation come into play?"

    "A revelation is not something that I could just tell you to find, it¡¯s something you feel on your own. Once you find a revelation that is the trigger to your awakening after you understand how to feel your own aura. So even if you had a revelation it¡¯s pointless without knowing your own aura. Think of it like you getting a set on how to build a chair. The parts for the chair are the revelation and the instructions are your aura control practices. Trust me when I say, you will know when you are going to awaken."

    "What was your revelation?"

    I paused. I hadn¡¯t thought about it in a long time. Such a nostalgic feeling just thinking about it. "My revelation was, ¡®The flame of my life shall not be extinguished¡¯, of course, my current revelation is different. I¡¯ll explain another time what I mean by that."

    He pondered my words for a bit then spoke, "Okay what do you need me to do?"

    "Just turn your back to me and I''ll walk you through what I''m doing." He did as I said and turned his back to me on the edge of the bed. "While I''m doing this I''m going to explain what exactly aura is, I know you''ve been taught the basics and have heard it plenty all over. You haven''t heard it from someone who has had years of experience with a greater understanding than a Green ranked teacher. This way of explaining it will help you visualize what you should be trying to feel for and give you a small idea of what is happening."

    He nodded, "Okay."

    "I''m going to place my hands on your back and imbue you with my aura. No it won''t kill you like it would if I was trying to boost your healing factor. Instead I''m allowing it to flow naturally as if it''s a gentle gust of wind."

    He nodded as I placed my hands on his bare back. The kid has no muscle definition that''s for sure, he isn''t scrawny per se, he has some meat on him but that''s it. The rest is either fat or undeveloped muscle. With those thoughts gone, I then begin to slowly imbue my hands with my aura ever so gently. I''m pretty strong you know, one wrong move I''ll split him in half.

    I began speaking to him, "Aura is the energy within all living things. It''s an invisible, ethereal energy that permeates every aspect of living creatures, from the smallest microbe to the most powerful dragon. It is the essence of life itself, and those who learn to harness its power can unlock incredible abilities and achieve great feats."

    I allow my aura to flow into him and search for his aether core. I wait for the boy to digest what I''m saying. Giving him time to visualize what I''m saying. My aura imbues his entire body with no problems. This is good, so far no issues. The next part is what will need a little more care considering it''s the core we are talking about. Tampering with an undeveloped core is extremely dangerous and the slightest mistake could cause irreparable damage.

    "The power of aura is said to be limitless, allowing those who harness it to achieve extraordinary feats of strength, speed, agility, endurance, and even prolonging your lifespan. It also grants you abilities that can assist with other things not revolving around combat. It can help you become hyper focused, give a surgeon steadier hands and perception, allow doctors to give better diagnosis through aura techniques, physical labor becoming a breeze with greater endurance and strength, the list goes on."

    My aura casually searches as if surfing around his body, interestingly enough, my aura reacts relatively well to his. It flows almost instinctively with him. Has he had training before? No, he couldn''t have. If anything, it seems his body is attuned to aura. My curiosity got the better of me as I slightly increased the amount I was outputting. To my surprise, he did not react. The amount I was outputting should have been enough to at least make him uncomfortable and move around but, nothing. I shouldn''t push anymore. Maybe another time I can test him properly. For now, back to the task at hand. I continued to feel around where one''s core usually resides, and I found it. Now this had me genuinely confused.

    When you look at one''s core after awakening you would see a geometric shape within the 3rd dimension. The vast majority have a sphere that represents a core. A few others such as myself have other types of shapes, such as cubes or other prisms. Not to mention the myriad of colors they could be. When you look at someone who isn''t awakened yet, it is without form or color. Kind of like a floating fluid. The Aether Realm is still accessible in this state, however, it''s very fragile. All of this is normal, however, what I''m witnessing isn''t. His aether core is fluid, yes, but it is constantly moving. It continuously changes shape, as if it can''t figure out how to mold itself.

    I would like to analyze this more but unfortunately, this isn''t the time or place. And of course, this isn''t my area of expertise, perhaps I should visit Selena. She would be frothing out her mouth the moment she saw something like this.

    I speak once more, "I found your core. Here is what I''m about to do. I''m going to project my astral body into you. You will feel a little chill but don''t worry it''s harmless. I''ll then create a link to your core, this will allow me to make my way to your core easier than trying to find it myself by floating around. When I create that link you will pull me towards it. Once I reach your core I will ask to be permitted to enter. I will walk you through how to do so."

    He once again nodded. I closed my eyes and then began the process of projecting my astral body to traverse the Veiled Between. My astral body is essentially a projection of the soul, so I¡¯m able to go beyond this physical plane. Doing this will allow me to enter his realm without harming either him or myself.

    Within my core, a familiar thrumming began. Not frantic, but deliberate, like the tuning of a cosmic lyre. With each resonant vibration, I envisioned the sigils, ancient and potent, etching themselves onto the walls of my being. A gentle tug, a sensation of weightlessness, and my consciousness unfurled, leaving the familiar confines of my core behind. My astral form pulsed into existence amidst the swirling nebulae of my realm, a symphony of colors singing to my senses. Inward, I focused, willing the boundaries of my world to dissolve, like sandcastles melting into the tide. A crackle of energy, a glimpse of the other core, a distant ember throbbing in the vastness. Reaching deep, I drew upon the wellspring of my aura, weaving a luminous thread outwards. It stretched tendrils across the void, solidifying with each pulse of my intent, anchoring it to my will. Leaving my hand on Rai allows this process to be smooth and simple.

    Silence descended, thick and charged. Every fiber of my being hummed with the effort, searching for the faintest tremor, the echo of a responding connection. The quiet stretched, each breath a held note, each heartbeat a drumbeat of uncertainty. But within the stillness, a flicker, a warmth, a tentative response. The link thrummed to life, a bridge built of will and spirit. As if emerging from a deep meditation, I opened my eyes within my core, the connection established, a path forged through the Veiled Between. The meticulous process, a symphony conducted entirely within, was complete.

    "Alright Rai, here is what I need you to do. This warm feeling you have, you are going to treat this feeling like it''s clay. You will use this to mold what I describe as you see fit. Now, imagine yourself in a room with a single door in front of you. Tell me what you see and hear." I patiently wait for a response.

    "I see it." He spoke softly, "I see a very large door in front of me."

    A large door? Quite the imaginative one.

    I request to access his core.

    He spoke again, "I hear someone knocking."

    Yes, that''s it.

    "Walk forward and open it," I said.

    A hush fell over my core, anticipation settling like dust motes in the still air. The link, initially a wisp of potential, pulsed and strengthened, weaving a luminous path before me. It wasn''t the vibrant gold of sunlight, but a cool, ethereal silver, casting long, enigmatic shadows. Curiosity, tinged with a hint of trepidation, urged me forward into the Veiled Between. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    Stepping beyond the familiar boundaries of my core, I found myself adrift in an endless sea of stardust. Not a void of suffocating darkness, but a canvas brushed with whispers of light, each twinkling speck a silent question mark. Tiny embers, like sparks from ancient bonfires, drifted at the periphery of my vision, their gentle glow both mesmerizing and enigmatic. The link hummed against my chest, a comforting tether in the vast unknown. Yet, a quiet hum within me resonated with the embers'' pulse. Their light, soft, and mesmerizing, whispered secrets held beyond the path''s silver gleam. I reached out, fingertips brushing the cool mist of the path. The embers flickered brighter, their whispers morphing into a soothing melody, a silent guide song. Peace, not fear, filled me as I stepped forward, the silver path unfolding beneath my feet. I¡¯ll probably tell the kid about this one day, but Selena would rather have the honor.

    After some time the string of light from my chest begins to glow brighter and brighter. The string of light, now blazing like a miniature sun, reached an abrupt end. It slammed into a colossal wall. This wasn''t the smooth obsidian of the abyss but a swirling tapestry of colors, vibrant yet somehow menacing. It pulsed with an otherworldly life, its very essence buzzing against my core. My hand instinctively reached out, drawn to the pulsing energy. But the warmth wasn''t inviting, it felt sharp, charged.

    Hesitation clawed at me. Me, hesitating? Panic tugged at the edges of my consciousness, whispering about being trapped, lost in this swirling tapestry. But the embers, once passive spectators, began to stir. Their feeble glow intensified, hungry, malevolent. I couldn''t turn back. They wouldn''t let me.

    This is the point of no return huh?

    It¡¯s strange, I¡¯ve never experienced this kind of entrance before. Even though I¡¯m invited, it¡¯s still trying to intimidate me. This boy¡­ he defies every expectation. What lies within him isn''t just potential; it¡¯s raw and boundless, like a raging torrent held behind a fragile dam. There¡¯s a tension to him, as if something immense is waiting, aching, to break free.

    I focused on the link, on the reassuring tug guiding me forward. Then, with a resolute clench of my being, I stepped towards the wall. The moment I touched it, a jolt of energy lanced through me, searing and invigorating at the same time. The tapestry shimmered, its colors swirling faster, brighter, momentarily blinding me. When my vision cleared, the wall was gone, replaced by a blinding vortex of light. When my perception solidified my eyes widened. Spread before me lay an endless expanse of light that rivaled that of the Salar de Uyuni flats of Bolivia. The pristine white salt flats shimmered not under sunlight, but with an ethereal, inner glow. Hexagonal tiles, each seemingly alive with swirling nebulas, stretched to the horizon. The air, thin and charged, hummed with the echoes of creation, a symphony of possibility and potential. But unlike the Bolivian marvel, this landscape lacked definition. The horizon shimmered in constant flux, refusing to solidify into mountains or clouds. The ground, though seemingly solid underfoot, held a tremulous quality, as if the world itself were still deciding its form. Scattered across the flats, wispy tendrils of energy arced and danced, whispering secrets on the wind of nascent existence.

    I was an explorer in a primordial landscape, a pioneer setting foot on a world just beginning to dream itself into being. This wasn''t the unneutered aether core I expected, but something far more raw, far more¡­ alive. A nascent consciousness stirred within the swirling mists, a presence both ancient and newborn, observing me with a curiosity that mirrored my own. Intrigue crackled through me, as exhilarating as the thin air. This wasn''t the destination I planned for, but perhaps something far more extraordinary. In this unformed realm, a canvas of potential, I wasn''t just an intruder, but a participant in the act of creation itself. The meticulous journey had led me not to a fixed point, but to the very brink of discovery, and the thrill of the unknown thrummed in my veins.

    The world shifted under my foot, not with the tremor of an earthquake, but with the subtle flow of liquid silk. Where a moment ago lay a stark white expanse, a low hill bloomed, sculpted from swirling violet nebulae. Curiosity has me, so I walk towards it. As I approached, its luminous surface rippled, reflecting my outstretched hand back at me with an uncanny distortion. My fingers seemed longer, more graceful, tipped with wisps of the same violet energy. Intrigued, I traced the contours of the hill, and as my hand moved, so did the landscape. Where I touched, ripples of color spread, transforming the stark white into vibrant fields of swirling blues and greens. With each step, the world continued to adapt. The very essence of this place felt fluid, and ever-changing, mirroring the potential within this kid.

    This kid, just who is he? How has he not awakened yet? What is holding him back?

    What I¡¯m witnessing before my eyes is something that countless individuals would kill each other over to have under their wing. This Aether Realm is not just a place of pure potential, it is something that not even I can comprehend. If he awakens, there is no telling what he could become. From my experience, aether cores are not supposed to be like this, not in the slightest. When looking through someone¡¯s core this way when they¡¯ve yet to awaken you would see something that is based on their personality. A calm and serene individual might have a core resembling a tranquil garden, a starlit night sky, or a calming waterfall. Dynamic or adventurous individuals, their cores might be pulsating energy fields, volcanic landscapes, or ever-changing storms. I could go on about other examples but this should give someone a good idea of what to maybe expect from the average person.

    When it comes to finding someone¡¯s potential it¡¯s how large the place is from the start. Your Aether Realm grows as you grow of course, but for it to be this large, is not a common occurrence. Even my Aether Realm wasn¡¯t this large at first. Then again some have a realm the size of a New York apartment and after advancing several ranks they are as large as cities. If my eyes are just deceiving me, then Rai here has an aura pool larger than most Violet ranks. If he had the same level of control as those in Violet rank, he would be considered a genius. One that surpasses even most of the other many realms combined.

    I just have no idea how to digest this. If anything, I¡¯m trembling in excitement. So much so that I pace back and forth as the silk-like floor below my feet creates a dedicated path for me to pace around. After some time I came to a decision. With a final, lingering glance at the ever-morphing landscape, I wove my consciousness back through the link, retracting my astral form like a kite pulled homeward by an unseen string. The familiar tug intensified, pulling me away from the swirling nebulas of the unformed realm. The white expanse blurred past, colors bleeding into each other like strokes on a canvas being folded away. As I re-entered my core, the sensation was akin to diving into a cool, deep lake. The buzzing energy of the other realm subsided, replaced by the quiet hum of my essence. The echoes of the evolving landscape lingered, faint whispers dancing at the edges of my perception. My astral form dissolved, merging seamlessly back into my core.

    Opening my eyes, I found myself back within the familiar confines of this world seeing Rai sitting in front of me with his back facing me. While it felt like I was in there for a little over half an hour, to Rai only a few seconds had passed. Time dilation is probably one of the biggest hazards and advantages to an Aether Realm. I can fill him in on more when he¡¯s ready to test it himself.

    I take a deep breath of fresh air and begin speaking, "Alright, I got a good look. You can turn around now."

    Rai slowly turns to me, "So, how was it?"

    "You, are you human?"

    He looked at me confused, "What?"

    Waving my hand I say, "Nevermind, you don¡¯t have any defining features of the other races."

    He just raised an eyebrow, "What are you trying to say?"

    "Nothing, nothing, anyways onto what I saw," I said changing the topic.

    "Okay?" He gave me an unsure look but listened intently.

    "It was¡­ different." choosing my words carefully. "I have seen many undeveloped realms in my lifetime, but never before had I seen something as abstract as yours. Your realm¡­ it''s unlike anything I''ve ever encountered. It adapts, transforms¡­ almost breathes with your very essence."

    Rai''s eyes lit up momentarily, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Really?"

    "But also raw, unformed," I continued. "It reflects your potential, yes, but it''s still finding its shape. Like a river carving its own path"

    He frowned, the smile fading. "Is that bad?"

    "Ha, not at all," you reassured him. "It just means there''s so much room to grow, so much you can do with it. But you need to understand the current, learn to navigate it, before you can truly harness this untapped potential."

    His brow furrowed in deep thought. "How do I do that?"

    Giving a slight chuckle, nearly unable to contain myself, I answered him. "That part is very simple actually."

    "Really, how?" The boy¡¯s eyes beamed with light and excitement.

    I stand up and walk to the door to my right, "Just one moment while I go and grab what I need."

    The boy was shaking with anticipation, almost forgetting his injuries as he watched me walk into the closet closing the door behind me. Bursting through the door, the boy flinches as a figure, bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun, strode dramatically into the room. It was me of course, my overcoat billowing behind me like a cloak. I may or may not have used a light crystal to make the room seem like the gateway to heaven for some extra effect.

    "Rai, my boy," I boomed, my aura enhancing my voice causing it to echo off the walls, "prepare yourself! For I, the illustrious, Chronos Elior, have arrived! And I bring tidings of destiny!"

    Rai blinked, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Destiny?"

    ¡°Indeed!¡± I declared, throwing my arms wide. ¡°Destiny, in the form of my tutelage! Witness, Rai, for the stars have aligned, the ancient scrolls have spoken, and they all point towards one undeniable truth: you, Rai, are in desperate need of a mentor!¡±

    Rai''s confusion deepened, ¡°I am?¡±

    ¡°Desperate doesn''t even begin to cover it!¡± I exclaimed, wagging a finger dramatically. ¡°Your raw talent, your untamed potential ¨C it cries out for guidance, for the wisdom of a master like myself!¡±

    Rai looked at me and gave a slight chuckle, ¡°And you, I suppose, are this self-proclaimed master?¡±

    ¡°The one and only!¡± you announced, striking a certain pose that I cannot disclose due to copyright infringement and my lawyers would eat me alive if they caught me doing another JoJo- ¡­anyways. ¡°I have traversed the cosmos, battled mythical beasts, and even danced with an Ancient Guardian (who, let me tell you, really can¡¯t dance for shit, but you didn¡¯t hear it from me)."

    Rai snorted but was still confused. "So, you''re basically... a legend I¡¯ve never heard of?"

    ¡°Ah, a legend? No no no, the one who stands before you has surpassed even the title of legend. I would tell you my identity but alas, I must withhold this information so as to not tempt you with my incredible exploits.¡± I conceded with a wink. ¡°But more importantly, I am the key to unlocking your true potential! Imagine it, Rai ¨C you, honed and refined, wielding your power with the grace of a Celestial and the ferocity of a corrupted Ethereal Being."

    Rai shook his head and blinked a few times, ¡°Wait, wait, wait, are you being serious? Are you actually asking me to become your disciple?¡±

    ¡°Yes of course I am, why else would I make such a grandiose approach of giving you this once in a lifetime offer?¡± I groaned in frustration. ¡°Alright enough with the theatrics. What do you say? Will you become my disciple?¡±

    Four faces stare back at me, each a flicker of a flame extinguished too soon. Each one handpicked was a burden of potential I carried with every sunrise and sunset. This kid, Rai, though... he''s different. It''s not just the raw talent, though that dances in his eyes like a familiar echo. It''s the way he moved, the flickers of instinct that remind me of sunlit mornings spent sparring, laughter echoing through the training hall. This potential, untamed and fierce, claws at me, whispers of a promise long thought lost. I can''t turn away.

    This isn''t just about honing skills; it''s about rekindling a flame I thought forever dimmed. The way he adapts in battle, the uncanny way he seems to anticipate every blow... it''s a mirror to a past I hold close, a reflection of a spirit I can almost touch. It''s madness, but seeing that aura swirling around his realm, a vibrant tapestry, unlike anything I''ve witnessed fuels a hope I thought buried. Maybe, just maybe, I could finally have someone to carry the torch. Someone to understand the whispers of the aura, the secrets it holds. Someone to honor a legacy I thought forever lost.

 The Veritas Vault - Awakening Aura

    <h2>Welcome, Seeker (548,654,157) [UID: E-J2770]</h2>

    Access Granted: The Veritas Vault - Aura Archive

    (Time Elapsed: 1 hour 32 minutes)

    Your perseverance has been rewarded! After diligently waiting as the 548,654,157th individual in the queue, you are now granted access to the Veritas Vault''s extensive archive on aura. In recognition of your extended wait time, you''ve been awarded a one-time priority pass. This pass grants you immediate access to the "Awakening Aura" collection, bypassing the usual queue for this specific section.

    Fascinating fact: This specific section of the archive, delving into [Awakening Aura], has been accessed a staggering 237,456,983,210 times.

    However, knowledge seekers like yourself have options:

    <ol>

    <li> Explore with Priority Access:</li>

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    <li style="font-weight: 400">Join the Ascendants Association: This esteemed organization of aura enthusiasts enjoys immediate, prioritized access to the Veritas Vault, including the "Awakening Aura" collection. Additionally, they benefit from exclusive events, workshops, and networking opportunities with leading experts in the field. Learn more at https://www.ascendantsassociation.com/opportunities</a>.</li>

    <li style="font-weight: 400">Become an Academy Student: The Veritas Vault recognizes the exceptional learning environments offered by several esteemed academies with a focus on aura. By enrolling in a program at one of these endorsed institutions, you gain expedited access to the Veritas Vault, allowing you to seamlessly integrate our extensive archive into your academic journey. Explore the full list of endorsed academies. Enroll today at https://www.veritas.com/enrollment/ascendant-academies</a>.</li>

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    While the free access queue might involve a wait, it still empowers you to delve into the "Awakening Aura" collection. Utilize this time to explore the introductory materials readily available within the Vault, which offer a solid foundation for understanding aura.

    Remember, the Veritas Vault is committed to sharing knowledge, but time is a precious resource. Explore the options above to prioritize your research and delve deeper into the captivating world of aura.

    May your pursuit of knowledge be swift and insightful.

    <hr>

    <blockquote>

    Awakening Aura

    </blockquote>

    What is Aura?

    Aura is the essence of life, an omnipresent force that flows through all living beings. It is said to be limitless, granting extraordinary abilities to those who learn to harness it. From enhancing physical capabilities like strength, speed, and endurance to refining mental acuity and precision, Aura offers boundless potential.

    The applications of Aura go far beyond combat. Surgeons can use it to steady their hands and sharpen their perception, enabling life-saving operations. Laborers find their tasks easier with enhanced stamina and resilience. Even scholars and doctors utilize Aura for focus and insight, allowing them to excel in their respective fields. Aura, at its core, is a universal tool¡ªone that amplifies the natural capabilities of its wielder.

    However, this immense power comes with a caveat: misuse or abuse of Aura often leads to devastating consequences, both for the user and those around them. It is a force that demands discipline, understanding, and respect.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    <hr>

    The Awakening: A Rite of Revelation

    Unlocking the power of Aura is not a matter of chance or birthright; it is a deeply personal journey, requiring a moment of revelation. This revelation is more than a fleeting thought¡ªit is an awakening of self-awareness, a profound understanding of one''s desires, and an honest confrontation with their purpose.

    Each individual¡¯s awakening is unique, tied to their deepest truths. In this critical moment, they come to understand not only why they seek the power of Aura but also how it resonates within them. This understanding crystallizes into a phrase¡ªa personal mantra that embodies their revelation and acts as the key to unlocking their potential.

    For example, an individual whose revelation is rooted in an unyielding desire for independence might declare, "I kneel before no one." These words, spoken with conviction, ignite the dormant Aura within them, forging a bond between their spirit and the life force they now command.

    <hr>

    The Power and Responsibility of Aura

    Once awakened, Aura grants its user access to incredible abilities. These include:

    <ul>

    <li>Enhanced Physicality: Strength, speed, agility, and endurance far beyond human limits.</li>

    <li>Precision and Focus: Sharpened senses and mental clarity, enabling everything from flawless surgical procedures to unmatched strategic thinking.</li>

    <li>Healing and Restoration: Techniques that promote recovery and well-being, both for oneself and others.</li>

    <li>Spiritual Growth: A journey of self-discovery, as mastery of Aura often leads to profound personal transformation.</li>

    </ul>

    With these abilities, those skilled in Aura become pillars of their communities¡ªrespected healers, defenders, and innovators. They play vital roles in confronting dangers, mending the broken, and advancing human potential.

    However, the power of Aura is not inherently good or evil. It reflects the intent of its wielder. Those who misuse their Aura for selfish or destructive purposes risk not only societal condemnation but also a deterioration of their connection to this life force. This imbalance can manifest as physical or spiritual decay, reminding all practitioners of the delicate balance required to wield Aura responsibly.

    <hr>

    The Journey of Mastery

    Awakening is only the beginning. Mastering Aura demands rigorous training, unwavering discipline, and continual introspection. Practitioners often join academies, seek mentors, or align themselves with organizations like the Ascendants Association to further hone their skills.

    The journey is arduous, but the rewards are unparalleled. Beyond the abilities gained, those who commit to the path of Aura often find themselves transformed¡ªnot just as warriors or healers, but as individuals who have unlocked their fullest potential.

    <hr>

    A Final Thought

    Aura is more than a tool; it is the manifestation of life¡¯s essence, a mirror to the soul. Awakening it requires courage, honesty, and a readiness to embrace one¡¯s innermost truths. For those who succeed, the path ahead is one of limitless possibility and profound responsibility.

    As you embark on your journey to harness the power of Aura, remember: the revelation that awakens your power is also the foundation of your purpose. Let it guide you as you uncover the depths of your potential.

    May your path be enlightening, your steps unwavering, and your Aura boundless.

    <hr>

    <blockquote>

    Veritas Automated Recommendation:

    </blockquote>

    Sentinel Regulations on Aura Usage

    Veritas Vault Addendum - Article #1021, Revision 17

    <hr>

    Recommendation: Adhering to Sentinel Regulations

    The Sentinels, as protectors of balance and order, urge all Aura practitioners to familiarize themselves with and adhere strictly to the established regulations governing Aura usage. These laws are designed to ensure the responsible use of Aura while safeguarding the well-being of individuals and communities.

    Continue?

    [Yes] | [No]

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    Closing article...

    <hr>

    This article was verified and contributed by the Ascendants Association to ensure accuracy and uphold the highest standards of Aura practice.

 Chapter 6 - The Proposition

    Raiden Alaric

    I just sat there, dumbfounded. Did he seriously just ask me to be his disciple? I mean don''t get me wrong, someone who is Red or above in rank giving me this kind of offer is nothing to sneeze at. The things I can learn from him would most certainly be worthwhile. However, I don''t really know him or anything about him. As much as I''d like to jump right at the opportunity. Where is the benefit for him? Not to mention I am not exactly a prize or from a powerful family that screams money and potential connections.

    So I asked him. "Why?"

    He raised his index finger next to him, ¡°First, it''s because of what I saw within your realm. You most certainly have potential, and I didn''t see a direct path. With that in mind it means that you have the potential to go in any direction you wish.¡±

    He raised his middle finger next, ¡°Second, your potential combat prowess. In this world being capable of handling yourself is crucial. Not to mention I have an interest in seeing how far you''re able to go.

    He then raised his ring finger which has a silver wedding band around it engraved with a language I don''t recognize, ¡°Third, I believe in you being able to play a large part of what the future may hold.¡±

    Putting his hand down he then shrugged, ¡°If you''re questioning how I could possibly benefit from this? Well in the world of Ascendants if a talent appears and becomes a known figure it''s only natural they''d wish to know who instructed said individual. Is this for profit? No, I don''t need money, I already have enough of it. For fame? No, I''d much rather be the super cool and secret master who has trained you behind the scenes that only a select few will ever know or discover. Also I''m confident you''d end up being famous for being my student in general.¡±

    I didn''t like that last part. Don''t get me wrong there''s a side of me that would like to be somewhat known, but from my own achievements. If anything now I''m just getting more curious about Chronos here. I should be able to recognize him if he''s apparently famous or well-known. But the name and face just don''t match with anyone I can think of.

    ¡° I know you''re still trying to figure out who I am. But don''t worry, if you do some digging you can find out. Become my disciple I may or may not reveal it to you.¡± He winked.

    ¡°So then how do you benefit? I still don''t understand what''s in it for you.¡±

    Chronos crossed his arms, ¡°I''m kind of hurt. You think that I need a form of compensation in order to train a kid who was being beaten to fight back and win against odds that should have been against him in every way? Do I need a reason?¡±

    ¡°Nothing is free.¡±

    He gave a warm smile, ¡°I understand your skepticism. The world is full of self-serving people, but trust me, my only reward is seeing you thrive. What I see is something that others would pursue for the potential dividends you could produce. I don¡¯t need a material gain in general. It''s like watching a reflection of someone I once knew, who had your potential. If anything, the only gain I seek is the satisfaction of seeing you surpass everyone. While I get to delight in the fact of being able to tell myself and those close to me, ¡°Yeah, I trained that boy.¡± you know?¡±

    I was still skeptical, ¡®If it¡¯s too good to be true, it isn¡¯t¡¯ they always say. He clearly could tell I wasn¡¯t believing him so he spoke again. ¡°Okay how about this, consider it an act of repayment.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°Well did you wrap yourself up in the magical healing bandages instead of calling an ambulance? Did you avoid a hospital bill with your parents acquiring a debt of $20k+ while also having to be questioned by police of your behavioral patterns? Did you avoid having to deal with the families of those other guys, whom you beat up in self-defense, and their lawyers? Thus having to get into more debt due to your family having to pay for legal fees and those kids medical fees.¡±

    Okay, I didn¡¯t think about it this deeply when it came to possible repercussions of my actions. I genuinely did not think about those other small details that might occur after everything had happened. Matter of fact, there¡¯s still a chance that-

    ¡°So as a way of payment, you are not only getting your injuries treated, you are also getting some first class ¡®physical therapy¡¯ and witness protection all in one go. The best part is you get to spend hours and hours on end with the most charming person here in the somewhat okay city of Dawn. Quite a deal no?¡±

    Quite the salesman huh?

    Well, I guess this isn''t so bad. But, I guess it wouldn¡¯t hurt to read the terms of service for this. I like this guy. Granted I don¡¯t have many expectations, but it doesn¡¯t mean I shouldn¡¯t still take this with a grain of salt. What¡¯s the worst that could happen? Well, if I think about it there could be something bad that happens but just from how he acts and his previous reactions I doubt I¡¯m going to become a victim here. I think.

    ¡°Alright,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll become your disciple. You become my master.¡±

    ¡°And the deal has been struck!¡± He pointed to me, ¡°From this point on you shall call me ¡®Sensei¡¯ and our training shall begin after your injuries have healed up!¡± He walked over to pick up the glass of water near me. ¡°Let me grab you another glass and we can start unwrapping you.¡± He then started walking towards one of the doors in the room.

    Sure enough, I felt my chest, the pain was significantly lessened. Rubbing my index finger over my eyebrow I feel nothing either. But there is something that has been racking my brain. Ever since he began this offer. Something vital that I needed to know.

    I grabbed his attention before he left, ¡°One more thing, this is something I¡¯ve been wondering about for a while now.¡±

    He turned to me, ¡°Ask away my young disciple.¡±

    I point to the blue cloak-like clothing over his shoulders, ¡°Is that Law¡¯s overcoat?¡±

    A spark of surprise ignited in Chronos''s eyes. The glass of water he held slipped from his grasp, clattering to the floor in a startled gasp. ¡°Ah, you are the chosen one.¡± He whispered as a tear ran down his cheek.

    After unwrapping me Chronos helped me up and had me do some stretches to see how my body healed up. I was still sore around where my ribs broke, but my arm was perfectly fine and any other bruises or cuts I received were completely gone. I was amazed at just how much of my body had healed within a short time. This Medela wrap is truly something amazing. I could only imagine what higher-ranked ones could do. Come to think of it, I think my mom might have something similar to the wrap but it¡¯s a supplement. I recall I had almost broken my ankle one time trying to do a flip on a trampoline and she had given me one. I was perfectly fine within the hour. Funny enough I wouldn¡¯t have been able to take one if she didn¡¯t scold my dad for telling me to ¡®walk it off.¡¯ Sometimes the power dynamic of my home is confusing. Mom would definitely¡­ definitely.

    Oh God¡­ no, no, no¡­

    I quickly turn to Chronos, ¡°Chronos!¡±

    ¡°Wh-what? What¡¯s wrong?¡± He answered worriedly.

    ¡°What time is it?¡±

    He raised an eyebrow, ¡°Huh?¡±

    I walked over, grabbed him by the collar, and pulled him down to my level, ¡°What. Time. Is. It?¡±

    Looking at me confused, he lifted his wrist to check his watch, ¡°It¡¯s 6:34.¡±

    Letting him go I fell to my knees, ¡°I¡¯m finished.¡±

    ¡°Hey, are you alright? You¡¯re turning pale.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t understand.¡± I looked him in the eyes causing him to flinch. ¡°I was supposed to be home by 5 o¡¯clock.¡±

    His shoulders relaxed, clearly he tensed up because he thought something serious had happened. ¡°What, that¡¯s it? Man you had me worried, I thought something serious was wrong.¡±

    ¡°YOU DON¡¯T UNDERSTAND!¡± I pulled him down again with both of our eyes leveled.

    ¡°Hey hey you¡¯re going to run the collar on this sh-¡±

    ¡°My mom said 5 o¡¯clock. What do you think that means?¡±

    He began to sweat looking at my desperate expression, ¡°Uh, be home at 5?¡±

    ¡°Exactly! So what do you think will happen? Not only me coming home late, but the fact I was attacked by three people. Sure I may be healed but that woman is a monster when it comes to finding irregularities. If she even so much as sees me with a hair out of place she will drop everything to make sure that the hair wasn¡¯t moved by someone with malicious intent. SO TELL ME WHAT DO YOU THINK WILL HAPPEN?¡± I voiced with my heart.

    ¡°You¡¯ll¡­ get in trouble?¡±

    ¡°EXACTLY! If I get in trouble, what do you think will be the effect after she finds the cause?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯ll-¡±

    ¡°EXACTLY! She will want to get to the bottom of everything as well as meeting you, learning who you are, your history, family lineage, next of kin, habits, hobbies, feti-¡±

    ¡°Okay you are taking this out of proportion.¡± He cut me off. ¡°My mother was similar but I highly doubt this would have any negative repercussions if I just take you home and explain everything.¡±

    I paused, ¡°Do you mean it? You¡¯ll talk to her?¡±

    ¡°Y-yeah. I don¡¯t think there should be much to worry about. It just seems like she¡¯s a doting mother.¡± He slowly starts raising himself again.

    ¡°Well¡­ since you¡¯re offering¡­ I¡¯ll take you up on it.¡± I let his collar go and walk away. Then I stop walking and turn to him. ¡°Um, how do we get out?¡±

    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    After putting my shirt back on and putting on my nice and dry jeans. Thank you, Chronos, for cleaning my clothes. After standing I realized that the room I was in was very nice. The room itself was a study of modern minimalism. Clean lines, neutral tones, and large windows created a bright and airy feel. Yikes, and I was sweating and bleeding on that bed? Well if he¡¯s not going to charge me then I don¡¯t see a reason to worry about it.

    He walked to one of the doors and I followed him. My eyes widened once we walked into the hallway. The sheer size of the place is still sinking in. This wasn''t just a house, it was practically a sprawling modern mansion. Sunlight streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating hallways lined with abstract paintings and sculptures. Yet, nestled amongst the contemporary art were carefully placed pieces with deeper meaning: a framed passage from the Psalms, and a simple wooden cross. It felt like a carefully curated conversation, juxtaposing the new with the old, the secular with the sacred.

    I think he¡¯s the religious type. From his necklace, I had an assumption, but then again I see people wear it but not practice it. We continued down the hallway taking one left turn and then a right. Just one after the other I was convinced he was walking in circles. Finally, after what seemed like miles of wandering, Chrono stopped, a mischievous grin plastered on his face. He flung open a set of double doors with a flourish, dramatically announcing, "Behold, my personal sanctuary!"

    The temperature dips slightly upon walking in. A welcome contrast to the summer heat. But instead of stepping into a traditional foyer, I find myself in a cavernous wonderland unlike any I''ve ever seen. Chronos continues to guide me through as I look around in sheer awe.

    Four expansive bays sprawl before me, each one large enough to comfortably house a semi-truck. But these aren''t your average parking spaces. To my left, a gleaming silver Rimac Nevera sits regally on a rotating platform, its futuristic silhouette a testament to cutting-edge design. Beside it, a Bugatti Chiron, its sleek curves and iconic horseshoe grille, exudes an aura of pure power.

    Across the vast space, a customized work area gleams with chrome and stainless steel. Tool chests flank a central workbench, meticulously organized. Above it, a large crucifix hangs, a silent guardian over Chronos''s meticulous attention to detail. Overhead cabinets, adorned with subtle crosses etched into the wood, hold neatly labeled bottles of lubricants and polishes, hinting at his dedication to keeping his collection in pristine condition.

    But this is just the beginning. As my gaze wanders further, I spot a collection that would make any car enthusiast weak at the knees. A gleaming Rolls Royce sits proudly next to a Maybach, both exuding an air of timeless elegance. A vibrant orange McLaren 765LT pulsates with raw energy, while a sleek Maserati MC20 nearby embodies Italian design flair. And then there are the classics. A cherry red 1960 Mustang, its lines instantly recognizable, sits next to an iconic 1960 Camaro, both evoking a sense of American muscle car heritage. But these are just a few; Nestled amongst the modern marvels, a vintage Ford Model A gleams, a testament to automotive history, a subtle reminder of simpler times. Looking over into one of the corners my eyes turn into saucers. Do my eyes deceive me?

    Tucked away in a corner of this automotive cathedral, seemingly unfazed by the company it keeps, sits a forklift that''s anything but ordinary. It''s no longer the industrial workhorse it once was; it''s a testament to the Chronos¡¯s ability to transform the mundane into the extraordinary.

    Gone is the utilitarian yellow paint job, replaced by a custom chrome finish that gleams like a beacon in the soft light. Intricate airbrushed flames lick up the sides, their fiery tongues reaching toward the undercarriage, which has been outfitted with LED lights that shift through a spectrum of colors. The standard mast, typically a utilitarian tower of steel, has been adorned with chrome accents and polished to a mirror shine. Atop it, instead of the usual forks, rests a custom-made platform upholstered in plush black leather, the kind you''d find in a luxury car. In the center, a small refrigerator gleams, its chrome finish matching the rest of the pimped-out machine.

    This isn''t just a forklift; it''s a symbol of manhood, a mischievous wink amidst the reverence for classic cars and religious iconography. It''s a reminder that even the most unexpected things can be transformed into works of art, testaments of passion these are.

    Beyond the cars, a lounge area exudes an air of luxury. Plush leather sofas face a large-screen TV, perfect for indulging in the world of high-performance cars or reliving legendary races. A mini-fridge hums softly, its contents a mystery, while a built-in espresso machine beckons with the promise of a quick, sophisticated pick-me-up. But it''s the details that truly capture the essence of this space. A well-worn bible rests on a side table beside a framed picture of Chronos and a woman who seems to be his wife.

    This isn''t just a garage. It''s a space that speaks volumes about its owner, their passion, their meticulousness, and their undeniable love for not just the art and history of these machines, but for something far greater. A feeling of awe washes over me, mixed with pure anxiety. Every single thing in this garage is worth more than me tenfold. I get the feeling that if I breathe too hard I¡¯ll damage a car and start accruing debt. From the house alone I was amazed at its size. But this just took it to a whole new level. Just how much wealth does Chronos have? I knew he was at least Red rank but, I¡¯m starting to think it might be higher than that.

    Reaching over Chronos closed my jaw. ¡°If you open your mouth any wider it will lock in place,¡± he said chuckling. He continued to walk forward and I followed behind him. While also being careful to not touch anything. He looks over his shoulder, ¡°Impressed?¡±

    ¡°¡®Impressed¡¯ would be an understatement. Everything in here is worth more than my home and everything in it,¡± I said. ¡°I guess it¡¯s right to assume that you are a car enthusiast?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose that''s far off the mark. However, it was my wife that loves cars. She simply got me into them. While I¡¯d be in one of the training halls, she¡¯d be here working on one of those two.¡± We walked past two vintage cars. I was able to pick up some cars but I could only assume they were Shelby. ¡°1965 Shelby GT350, also known as the Cobra. We bought both of these for each other as an anniversary gift. We laughed at each other because we had the same idea. Then they ended up becoming our little projects we would maintain throughout the rest of our years.¡±

    ¡°Which one was her¡¯s,¡± I asked.

    He smiled warmly and pointed to the one on the right, ¡°This one.¡±

    Looking to the car on the right I take a good look. The car''s exterior is painted in its original Wimbledon White, the paint gleaming despite not being subjected to the harsh glare of the overhead lights. Chrome accents gleam just as brightly, and the iconic blue racing stripes running down the length of the car appear as if hand-painted, their color so vivid it seems to defy its age. A closer look reveals the car''s immaculate condition. Not a single speck of dust mars the paint and the chrome gleams as if new. The tires, though not new, have been meticulously maintained and show little sign of wear. Chronos has spared no expense to preserve this car.

    ¡°This car is 57 years old. How did you keep it so clean, it doesn¡¯t even look used.¡±

    He turned and began walking again, ¡°That my young disciple is a family secret. All I¡¯ll say is that it¡¯s a combination of sigils and hands-on maintenance¡±

    ¡°Sigils? You use sigils to keep a car clean?¡±

    ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t I? Sigils are so vast you can create your own. They are no words of power of course but they still can increase quality of life. Don¡¯t you know the stove in your home has a sigil? Sigils of Power may be known for its effectiveness in combat, but its primary use is for mundane tasks. This includes keeping my cars clean.¡±

    ¡°I see your point.¡± He¡¯s not wrong. I recall the knowledge from what I learned in school. Sigils of Power are the visual representation of primordial concepts. They are symbols that are drawn from the primordial language of aura. They represent concepts and intentions, acting as intricate keys that channel aura to achieve specific effects. I can write a sigil, but I can¡¯t activate it without being able to channel aura through it. Trust me, I¡¯ve tried. Otherwise, my homework would do itself. This leads to the second thing about sigils, they can be customizable, to a certain extent. I don¡¯t really have much knowledge on its limits but I only understand that it is possible.

    Chronos then stopped at the center of his garage and turned to me crossing his arms, ¡°Alright, go ahead.¡±

    I looked at him quizzically, ¡°Huh?¡±

    He swept his arm out over the vast array of high-end vehicles, ¡°Go ahead, pick one.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean pick one?¡± I asked hesitantly.

    ¡°Pick one you want me to drive you home in.¡±

    My jaw dropped once again.

    Is this guy serious?

    ¡°Ah obviously it¡¯s a no go on the Shelby¡¯s but anything else is fine. This floor in particular was where she spent most of her time anyway so she¡¯s proud of these ones.¡±

    I turned to him slowly, ¡°This... floor?¡±

    He tilted his head, ¡°Yeah?¡± He then slammed his palm with the bottom of his fist. ¡°Oh right, you don¡¯t know. Yeah this is one of 5 floors. Each floor has roughly the same amount of cars. Except the last floor, that is secret.¡±

    I was still flabbergasted. ¡°Just how high ranked are you?¡±

    He wagged his finger side to side, ¡°Not just yet, I know I said I¡¯d tell you, but not so soon. I think you¡¯d be able to figure it out yourself after you awaken anyways. So be patient, I''ll tell you in due time. Now pick a car.¡±

    Looking back towards the garage I look over the vehicles. There¡¯s no way I could pick one. Not because I don¡¯t want to, but because if one of these things pulls up in front of my house I don¡¯t need the entire neighborhood having its eyes on me when I get home. The only thing that is the least eye-catching is the Mustang and Camaro.

    I turned to him, ¡°Is there, possibly anything a little, I don¡¯t know, less expensive? Like a pick up truck or even a modest SUV? You know something that either won¡¯t have everyone look at once or some¡±

    He thought for a moment, ¡°Hmm, I have an F-150, but I don¡¯t really-.¡±

    ¡°Perfect, let''s take that.¡±

    He shook his head chuckling, ¡°Alright then.¡± I followed him towards what resembled a sleek, metallic elevator. A digital display glowed beside it, indicating the second floor. He pressed the button marked ¡°3,¡± and the elevator descended with a soft hum. The doors slid open, revealing another automotive wonderland.

    My jaw hit the ground again. Parked in gleaming rows were automotive legends, each one a testament to a bygone era. A 1955 Mercedes-Benz 300 SL Gullwing Coupe, its iconic doors outstretched like a silver bird taking flight, held center stage. Beside it, a sleek 1963 Jaguar E-Type Series 1 Coupe whispered tales of elegance with its flowing curves and chrome accents. A cherry red 1971 Ferrari Daytona, a name that sent shivers down the spine of any racing enthusiast, stood defiantly nearby. Three McLarens, each a vibrant splash of color and cutting-edge design, completed the picture. Oh how car enthusiasts would kill to be in my position right now. So many could only dream of being able to have a collection this vast.

    It also seems that each garage has a few standouts that completely avoid the theme. Off in the corner were two cars that no one would consider the owner had an entire arsenal of high end vehicles that are worth more than both of these combined. A Ford F-150, and a Honda Pilot. Now we¡¯re in breathing territory. I walk over to the passenger side of the Ford and wait for Chronos. He walks over to the wall near the two cars. On the wall there is a small box with a fingerprint scanner on the right. He places his index finger on the scanner, a small beep goes off. Then the box slides open. Inside hang two key fobs, one for a Honda, another for a Ford. Reaching out he takes the key for the Ford and unlocks the truck. Hopping inside I notice that the ¡°new car smell¡± still lingers within the interior. Chronos hops in the driver seat and presses the start button and the truck hums to life.

    He points to the infotainment system, ¡°Alright put in your address, let¡¯s get you home.¡±

    I reach over and input my address into the map. Once the route started we started making our way forward towards the front of the garage. Gleaming chrome accents on the vehicle mirrored the polished concrete floor below, reflecting the harsh overhead lights of the cavernous space. Considering we are on the third floor we stop in front of a large sliding gate. After pressing a button on the rearview mirror the gate slides open. Instead of a conventional exit ramp, what was revealed is a massive steel platform, held aloft by a web of industrial-chic beams.

    "Don¡¯t piss your pants again okay. These seats may be leather but don¡¯t think that¡¯s a pass for you to do so." Chronos said with a smirk, holding a hint of amusement.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t piss myself, it was raining and I fell in a-.¡± Cutting me off he lurched the vehicle forward making me gasp. The truck soon rested in the center of the platform ready for elevation to ground level.

    Chronos pressed a button nestled discreetly on the dashboard. The platform lurched, then began to rise steadily, the truck tilting precariously forward. The roar of the engine filled the confined space, the only sound other than the unnerving creak of the machinery supporting our multi-ton metal beast. As the platform neared the level of the street, sunlight streamed through the opening above, momentarily blinding me.

    The truck rolled forward onto solid ground, thus leaving the incredible collection. Interestingly enough as I looked into the passenger mirror this is when I saw the home. My stomach lurched as I turned my head towards the house, and there it was. I knew this had to be a mansion, but not a mega mansion. A geometric masterpiece nestled amongst the rolling green canvas. Walls of steel and glass glinted in the sun, reflecting the vibrant hues of the surrounding meadows.

    The house, devoid of unnecessary ornamentation, relied on clean lines and expansive windows to exude an air of quiet confidence. Beyond it, the eight acres of what seemed to be a twenty-acre property unfolded like a modern art installation. Rolling hills, dotted with the occasional mature oak, provided a natural counterpoint to the sharp angles of the home.

    As I turned my head, a path of polished concrete, adorned with sculpted hedges, snaked around the side of the house, leading towards an infinity pool that seemed to merge seamlessly with the horizon. A glimpse of a dirt filled training ground, bathed in the afternoon sun rested to the right of the home. Soon we arrived at a gate that opened upon our approach. Once we passed through the automatic gate swung shut with a soft whir, the sound echoing in the quiet. I stole one last look at the house, the setting sun casting long shadows across the polished steel.

    Just who did I get myself involved with?

 Chapter 7 - Home Sweet Home

    Raiden Alaric

    After roughly 20 minutes we finally arrived at my home. It¡¯s a comfortable home, nothing as over the top as Chronos here. It¡¯s not like we are poor either, but if you compare Chronos to us, well. It wasn''t anything fancy, just a two-story place with a modern twist¡ªweathered cedar planks, contrasted with clean, dark window frames. A simple metal swing swayed gently on the porch, a familiar spot to unwind. The driveway leads to the garage that houses the only two cars, two modest SUVs a Subaru and a Chevy. Doesn¡¯t stand out in the slightest in this neighborhood. Every other home has a similar atmosphere.

    Chronos pulled aside the curb, turned off the truck, and exited. I exited the trunk myself and waited for him. But he just looked at me and then said, ¡°Hey, it¡¯s your house, you go knock and introduce me.¡±

    "But you said you would-"

    "And I will, but there¡¯s a way this works, you gotta introduce me then bada bing bada boom everything works out."

    I wasn¡¯t sure what to say. Either way, it was clear I still needed to start everything. So I walked up the driveway and walked towards the front door. One step after the other I continue to dread the possible outcomes of what will happen. What if she figures it out? What if she doesn¡¯t believe what Chronos might say? What if she doesn¡¯t allow me to train with him? There¡¯s so much running through my mind that I reach the door before I can gather my thoughts. I knock on the door and wait. A cold chill runs up my spine as I wait for the door to be answered. A few seconds later the door opens and it¡¯s my little sister.

    The moment she sees me she beams brightly. "Mama, Rai is home!" She shouts as she grabs the bottom of my shirt, as if trying to prevent me from running off.

    I give a rye smile, "Hey Iris, I¡¯m home."

    Before she can reply she notices Chronos who is standing behind me and waves to him, her golden hair bouncing as she lightly hops on her toes. Chronos waved back to her as my mom arrived at the front door. My mom was wearing a floral dress as well as some simple jewelry. As she approached she first laid her eyes on me. Now listen, I¡¯m not exactly an expert on reading people. However when it comes to my family, which I spent my entire life with. Then yes, you can pick up on subtle looks everyone gives especially if they are directed at you. In this case, the look she gave me was essentially: I remember saying 5 o''clock, not 7:12. I''m going to need an explanation.

    She smiled at me warmly, "Welcome home Rai. What took you so long?"

    "Hey Mom, sorry I''m home late I sort of got delayed." I answered.

    Raising an eyebrow she questioned, "Sort of?"

    My stomach lurched at Mom''s words. The summer heat seemed even harsher under her gaze. Thankfully, Chronos, ever the hero, swooped in. "That would be my fault, Mrs. Alaric," he said smoothly.

    She turned her head to Chronos, a flicker of surprise crossing her features. "Ah, hello," she said, her voice softening. She reached her hand out in welcome. "My name is Regina, Regina Alaric. You are?"

    He reached out and shook her hand, a courteous smile on his face. "Chronos, Chronos Elior, pleasure to meet you."

    "Nice to meet you too," She replied, her gaze lingering on him for a moment before returning to me. "Please, come inside. If you''re here to defend Rai on his tardiness, I''d rather you both not explain yourselves out here."

    With a welcoming smile, she stepped aside, gesturing for us to enter. Chronos shot me a quick look, then I followed him through the doorway. Mom closed the door behind us, the cool air conditioning a sweet relief from the summer heat. While I walked little Iris held onto the end of my shirt. Either she¡¯s trying to set me at ease before my mother¡¯s wrath, or thinks I¡¯ll run away after I get a good scolding. Odd to be consoled by a 4 year old.

    "Please remove your shoes and follow me. The living room''s this way," Mom said, leading us down a short hallway, the plush carpet a welcome buffer against the hot tiles we''d just been standing on. We reached the living room, and Mom continued, "Why don''t you both have a seat? I''ll grab some glasses of water."

    Mom disappeared into another room, and Chronos and I settled into opposite couches. Iris climbed onto the couch next to me, still holding onto my shirt.

    You¡¯re beginning to scare me, my little golden clone. Am I that screwed?

    The living room was tastefully decorated, with cool colors and inviting furniture, a perfect escape from the summer sun. A few moments later, Mom returned carrying a tray with three glasses of ice-cold water. She handed one to each of us, then settled into an armchair at the head of the living room to us. "Now," she began, a hint of amusement creeping into her voice, "can you explain why you say it is your fault Rai is running late?"

    "Ah yes, you see he was under my care after an incident that occured between him and a few students."

    Chronos? Buddy? Pal? What are you doing?

    My mom''s eyes widened, "Incident? What happened?" Oh no, she''s going into a panic.

    "There was a scuffle between the kids, Rai was being attacked by three other students after they chased him around."

    CHRONOS YOU FOOL! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!

    Without listening to anymore she placed her glass down and rushed over to me, beginning to check me all over. She grabbed my face between her warm palms, her thumbs brushing away any stray dirt as her eyes scanned for scrapes. My arms were lifted, the fabric of my shirt inspected inch by inch. Her touch was frantic, but gentle, searching for any sign of injury. I flinched, not from pain but from surprise as her hands moved down my chest, feeling for hidden injuries with a worried mother''s intuition.

    Before she could lift my shirt to check for bruises I stopped her, "Mom I''m fine!"

    She glared at me, "Are you sure about that? How do I know they didn''t do anything to-"

    "I can assure you that he is just fine. Any injuries he had I treated."

    CHRONOS PLEASE I''M BEGGING YOU!

    "INJURIES?!"

    YOU FOOL YOU''VE DOOMED US ALL!

    My mom began to pull at my shirt, and I was pleading with her to stop.

    Chronos, the damn traitor, chuckled at the site before him as he continued, "Any and all injuries have been taken care of. I have some good friends in the A.A. so he was properly treated with Medela items."

    This seemed to have gotten through to her, at least to stop trying to strip me so she could make sure there wasn''t a hair out of place.

    "You said he was in a fight, yes? What happened to the other kids?" She asked.

    "Yes, it was a fight, Rai defended himself and managed to drive them away."

    She looked at me in both shock and awe, "Is this true?"

    I hesitated, "Y-yes, it¡¯s true¡­"

    She continued to look at me, then turned back to Chronos. "He¡­ drove them away? What exactly happened?"

    Chronos responded, "Well, as crass as it may sound, he has a talent when it comes to combat. Skipping the details of the fight as it is not my story to tell¡­" He winked at me, cheeky asshole. "...He was able to defend himself and drive them away."

    Mom turned to me and raised an eyebrow. Using my incredible skills of reading the expressions of my family, I can see she was¡­ impressed? I turned to Iris who had yet to say a word and she stared at me, eyes beaming with excitement.

    A thoughtful look crossed Chronos'' face. "Speaking of his talent, would you consider training?" He mused, seemingly to himself, "there are those who dedicate their lives to honing such¡­ unique talents." He glanced at me, then back at Mom. "Perhaps structured guidance could help Rai avoid future brawls and channel his abilities productively. As I¡¯m sure you are aware he has yet to awaken and I would like to ask your permission to train him."This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.

    "Train him?" Mom questioned.

    "Yes, I see something special within him. I believe he can become a great Ascendant. Just his fighting prowess alone would allow him to climb high. There is no telling what could happen after he awakens."

    Sitting back down she spoke, "What is in it for you? I¡¯m sorry, but considering how well you are suppressing your aura I can assume you are at least a Nexus?" She probed.

    While I am aware of my mom being an Ascendant herself, she¡¯s only blue. As far as I¡¯m aware at least. She never really speaks about it other than the fact it helps her with her job. To assume Chronos is a Nexus is within reason since I assume he is as well. To be a Nexus you¡¯d need to be at Red rank, which is the midway point of the seven ranks. Hence the name Nexus. People considered to be a Nexus usually reach a bottleneck and can¡¯t advance any further and decide to settle down. With their extended lifespans, it wouldn¡¯t surprise me if Chronos was also a part of that group.

    He gave a warm smile, "Yes, ma¡¯am you are correct. While I am high ranked, I find satisfaction in helping individuals grow. I am already well off, so money is nothing I need." Mom was about to speak again but Chronos continued before she could, "While I know it sounds ¡®too good to be true¡¯ I am willing to offer an Oath of the Open Heart."

    This was not a response I was expecting from Chronos. An Oath of the Open Heart is not something that can be taken lightly. To expose your innermost intentions to be judged while also binding the user''s aura to ensure alignment with the agreement. The consequences of trying to either deceive the other or stray away from the original intentions will have drastic effects. I remember an instance that we studied in class. A man had made the oath to his wife. He promised to stay faithful to her as he was going away to another country for work. A month later he was found in a paraplegic state, this was because he began to have an affair with someone else. He didn¡¯t even manage to make it back to her apartment.

    Putting her thumb to her lips and nibbling on it as she began to contemplate his offer. This is a common habit of hers. She nibbles on her thumb any time she is given a tough decision. Last time I saw her do this was when she was debating on letting me attend school or be homeschooled. Thankfully my dad was there to make the final decision. Since he¡¯s not here she could decide here and now.

    After a long moment, Mom finally spoke, her voice measured. "Mr. Elior, I appreciate your offer and the gravity of the Oath you''re willing to take. However, this is a significant decision that I can''t make alone. I need to discuss this with my husband¡ªRai''s father¡ªbefore giving you an answer."

    Chronos nodded, a look of understanding on his face. "Of course, Mrs. Alaric. I wouldn''t expect anything less. Family decisions should involve all parties."

    Mom stood, and we all followed suit. "Thank you for bringing Rai home safely and for your... interesting proposition. We''ll be in touch once we''ve had a chance to talk it over. Could you please give me your contact information?"

    ¡°Ah, yes of course,¡± said Chronos. He reached into his pocket retrieving his phone. After exchanging numbers, Chronos bowed slightly, "I appreciate your time and consideration." He turned to me. "Rai, would you mind walking me out? I have a few things I''d like to discuss with you."

    I glanced at Mom, who nodded her approval. "Just don''t take too long," she said. "Dinner will be ready soon." She walked off into the kitchen, Iris following her.

    As we stepped outside, the heat of the day had mellowed into a warm evening breeze. Chronos waited until we were a few paces from the house before he spoke, his voice low and serious. "So, Rai, now it¡¯s up to you"

    ¡°UP TO ME?!¡± I sputtered out. ¡°I thought you were supposed to help me out here, not confess everything to my mom.¡±

    ¡°Truthful lips endure forever, but a lying tongue lasts only a moment.¡± He chuckled as he ruffled my hair. ¡°Trust me, it¡¯s better to rip off the bandaid now. Plus, you get to talk about everything that happened freely. You don¡¯t have to have that nagging side of you that is keeping this event a secret.¡±

    He''s right of course, but I''m still afraid of the potential conversation I''m going to be having with my parents. My dad might be on board, but my mom clearly has reservations about it.

    Taking a deep breath, I looked up at Chronos, a newfound resolve settling within me. "I will trust you, Chronos. I will wait and see what my family decides," I said, a sense of determination coloring my words.

    Chronos nodded approvingly, his gaze steady. "That''s all I can ask for, Rai. Patience and trust often pave the way for understanding."

    I raised an eyebrow, ¡°Are you purposefully being philosophical with me?¡±

    He smirked, ¡°Am I doing well?¡± He winked and turned to leave, his figure blending into the evening shadows as he made his way down the driveway to his truck. As I watched him disappear from sight, a sense of calm enveloped me, knowing that I had made a choice. A choice that will change my life. I¡¯m going to be an Ascendant.

    After seeing Chronos off I walked back into the house and headed for the kitchen. The tantalizing aroma of lasagna hit me like a comforting wave. The rich, meaty scent mingled with the sharp tang of tomato sauce, and the sweet, buttery undertones of cheese. It was an intoxicating symphony of smells that enveloped me, promising warmth and satisfaction. Which was an immediate reminder that I was supposed to help her with dinner. So I had a subtle wince after allowing myself to take in the beautiful scent of food.

    Mom stood over the stove, her brow furrowed in concentration as she stirred a bubbling pot of stew. The day''s events with Chronos still weighed heavily on my mind, and I sought refuge at the table. Iris met my gaze, her eyes filled with unspoken questions and unbridled curiosity. She even got out of her chair and came to sit next to me. The lingering uncertainty of Chronos'' offer cast a long shadow over us, and I felt its weight pressing down.

    "Well," she began, her voice gentle yet laced with determination.

    "Are you really going to be an Ascendant?" Iris''s excitement was palpable in her voice as she spoke first, envisioning the endless possibilities that awaited me as an Ascendant. For all she knows, Ascendants are superheroes who save the day. Upon hearing those words Mom clearly didn¡¯t like the idea.

    "I don''t know yet, Iris," I replied carefully, trying to sound as reassuring as possible. "It''s a lot to think about." I¡¯m obviously lying, but it would be in my best interest to not add fuel to the flames that is my little sister.

    Mom finally turned off the stove, her expression unreadable. "We should wait until your father gets home," she said, her voice firm. "This is a big decision, and we need to talk about it as a family."

    A knot tightened in my stomach. I knew she was right. But a part of me dreaded the conversation. I glanced at Iris, who was already starting to pout.

    "But, Mom," she whined, "Rai could be like Superman!"

    Mom sighed, clearly exasperated. "Iris..."

    ¡°He¡¯ll have super strength, and shoot lasers out of his eyes.¡± She paused and turned to me, ¡°You¡¯ll be able to shoot lasers out of your eyes right?!¡± She was practically vibrating in her chair.

    I couldn¡¯t help but smile at my little sister''s enthusiasm. It was a stark contrast to the heavy weight of responsibility I was feeling.

    I patted her head, chuckling, ¡°Maybe, but oh, it would be so tragic if you were to spook me and I accidently turned you to ashes.¡± I wiped away an imaginary tear from my eye.

    Her eyes widened, ¡°NO! I mean¡­ maybe laser eyes aren¡¯t the best. Flying is better.¡±

    ¡°Now that, I can get behind.¡±

    Mom watched the both of us bantering, a warm smile on her face, resting her chin in her hand. She glances over to the monitor at the corner of the kitchen island watching the timer she set.

    "Alright, you two," Mom interrupted, her smile softening, "Dinner will be ready soon and Dad is going to be home in a few minutes. Set the table, please."

    Iris jumped up eagerly, ready to fulfill her assigned task. I followed suit, my mind still buzzing with thoughts of potential superpowers. As I pulled out plates, I couldn''t shake the feeling that my life was on the cusp of something far more exciting than I''d ever imagined. I pictured myself in the midst of a chaotic battle, adrenaline surging, every muscle tensed. Being able to punch through brick, hell, taking a punch that is capable of going through bricks. All of it excited me.

    A sharp clap brought me back to the present. Mom was standing by the stove, a steaming pot of stew in her hands. "Dinner is ready," she announced, her voice cutting through my daydreams.

    Iris, ever the optimist, clapped her hands together. "I get to make Daddy¡¯s plate!"

    I forced a smile, the image of a battlefield fading into the background. For now, at least, there was food.

    It wasn¡¯t long after we finished setting up the dinner table that Dad arrived home. The door creaked open, and Dad filled the doorway like a living, breathing statue. His dark hair, always in that perfect state of controlled chaos, framed a face that could launch a thousand ships. Or at least, make a teenage girl forget how to breathe. Iris''s mouth dropped open, and she pointed at him, her eyes wide as saucers. Mom''s eyes got big too, but she smiled.

    His jawline was sharp, almost cruel, but softened by those damn captivating red eyes. They held a mischievous glint that didn¡¯t match the intensity of their color. Even in casual clothes, you could see the lean muscle beneath his skin.

    I rolled my eyes, trying to act cool, but I couldn''t help the surge of pride that filled me. My dad was a walking, talking work of art. And my mom couldn¡¯t show him off enough. I recall the last time we had company over she was stuck to his side like glue. Essentially screaming ¡°Yes, this is my husband, bow before me you lesser beings.¡± This goes without saying but Mom is also extremely beautiful, so in other words my dad mirrors her behavior of showing her off. She was a stunning woman, with a figure that could make a siren blush. Her blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her blue eyes held a captivating sparkle. Which makes me feel very subconscious. I¡¯m not exactly fit, I have a little bit of a belly, my arms are skinny, and acne to boot.

    I guess now I have two reasons now to want to get that training from Chronos.

    He walked in with a tired smile, the scent of his cologne mingling with the aroma of the food. Dad''s presence brought a sense of calm and familiarity, grounding me amidst the whirlwind of emotions and possibilities that had been swirling around me all day.

    Mom placed a bowl of salad on the table and gestured for Dad to take a seat. Iris practically bounced in her chair, unable to contain her excitement as she filled his plate with generous portions of lasagna and a bowl of stew.

    As we settled into our seats, the tension in the air was palpable. It was clear that Mom and Dad had briefly discussed the day''s events over the phone while I was talking to Chronos, their expressions a mix of curiosity and apprehension. I fidgeted with my napkin, stealing glances at each of them as we began to eat in silence.

    Finally, Dad cleared his throat, breaking the quiet that had settled over us like a heavy blanket. "So, Rai," he began, his gaze steady as he looked at me. "From what I can see in your mother¡¯s eyes, there seems to be something you need to bring up.¡±

    Ah, yes the skill of the Alaric family.

    I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the conversation that was about to unfold. ¡°So after I got off of school, there was this girl¡­¡±

 Chapter 8 - Plead Your Case

    After sharing my entire recollection of the events that unfolded from the beginning up until the point of Chronos making his offer I realized that I was getting a little riled up. I couldn''t help but notice the twinkle of amusement in Dad¡¯s eyes as I recounted the exhilarating battle with Chronos. The words spilled out of me almost like a confession, my cheeks flushing at the thought of the adrenaline rush and the thrill of using my opponents'' skills against them in combat. But as I spoke, Dad''s expression shifted from amusement to a mix of concern and pride, his brow furrowing slightly.

    Mom, on the other hand, had already made her way to the other side of the dining table and was checking me over again, her hands moving with an almost frantic urgency. It was like I was a wounded soldier returning from battle, and she was the battlefield medic, desperately trying to assess the damage. She examined my face, my arms, and even my legs, her touch gentle but insistent. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks again, this time from embarrassment rather than excitement. Even though she was already told I was fine by Chronos even checking me beforehand as well.

    "Mom, I''m fine," I managed to say, trying to calm her down. But her eyes, filled with a mix of worry and disbelief, told me she wasn''t convinced.

    Dad chuckled, ¡°Hun, I¡¯m pretty sure he¡¯s fine. From what he told us Chronos already-¡± Mom turned and glared at him. He cleared his throat and changed topic, ¡°A-anyways, that is quite the series of events that happened today. However¡­¡± He gave me a serious gaze.

    I braced myself, knowing the real questioning was about to begin. However¡­ Dad''s eyes were alight with curiosity, a stark contrast to Mom''s worried gaze.

    "So, let me get this straight," Dad began, leaning forward, his eyes scanning my face. "You saw some bullies picking on a girl, intervened by throwing a rock, got chased, cornered in an alley, got beat up, fought back, and won. And now, you''re telling me some stranger offered to train you?"

    I blinked, trying to process the rapid-fire summary. "Pretty much," I managed to squeak out.

    Dad raised an eyebrow. "Did I get that right?" Dad''s eyes narrowed in concentration. "And you fought them off? All three of them?"

    I hesitated, not wanting to brag but also eager to share my victory. "Yeah, I did. It was crazy."

    Dad''s eyes lit up with pride. "Describe it. How did you do it?"

    I nodded enthusiastically, eager to dive into the details. "So while Tony was throwing punch after punch I was able to-"

    Before I could finish, Mom''s hand clamped down on my ear. "Raiden Alaric, how dare you put yourself in a situation where you could''ve gotten seriously hurt? You''re lucky Chronos was there to help you. You could be in a hospital right now, instead of here, safe and sound."

    I yelped, trying to wriggle free from her grip. "Ow, Mom! It''s not that bad!" This was probably the worst thing for me to say.

    ¡°NOT THAT BAD?!¡± She began to grill me about how I could have handled the situation better and that her heart is aching at the fact that I could have been rotting in that alley.

    "Sorry, Mom, I just wanted to help," I protested, wincing under her scolding gaze. "I know that I could have handled it better but, my body moved before I could properly think about what I should do."

    Mom''s expression softened slightly, but her eyes still held a steely determination. "I understand that, Rai. But you need to be smarter about these things. What if those bullies had done worse to hurt yo-¡± it was then that the aura in the room changed. Her eyes narrowed, and a dangerous glint appeared in them. "Speaking of those bullies..."

    Uh oh.

    In an almost sweet tone, she spoke with a hint of venom, ¡°So what were their names again?¡±

    I kept my mouth shut. "What¡¯s wrong, Rai? Did they perhaps threaten you not to talk about them?" Mom''s voice was dangerously low. "Well, we''re going to find out who these ''students'' are. And when we do, they''re going to wish they''d never laid a finger on my son. I¡¯ll personally walk into their homes and-"

    Dad clapped, cutting her interrogation short. "Alright, let''s get to the point. Chronos made you an offer. He consulted your mother, she decided to wait for me to give some input. Thank you for that by the way hun. And now we have to come to a decision. Is that right?"Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    I nodded, ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°So I guess all that¡¯s left is for you to plead your case, my son.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± I asked.

    ¡°What do you mean? Plead your case, tell us, do you want this? If you want this. Why?¡±

    This is my chance. Thank you, for the assist Dad. I know that if it was just the two of them speaking, it wouldn¡¯t get anywhere quickly. Dad having me start off the discussion is going to allow me to have a solid foundation. For once in my life I would like to thank my English teacher for teaching me the proper way to create an argument.

    "After my experience, as well as my encounter with Chronos, I want to become an Ascendant. While I know this is something that I could have potentially achieved on my own, I would only be green at most if I continued down my original path. Now, I want to see how far I can go, I''ve seen Ascendants and what they can do."

    I paused, taking a deep breath. "I felt something during the fight, something I can¡¯t quite explain. It was like a part of me awakened, pun intended. I could almost see what my opponent was going to do before they did it. I countered their moves instinctively."

    My voice grew louder with each word. "It was exhilarating. I want to explore this potential fully. I want to be a true Ascendant and see just how far this can take me. I want to experience this feeling more. I want to climb to the top. I want to challenge myself."

    Mom''s eyes widened, a mixture of pride and concern flickering across her face. "You''ve always had a knack for liking a challenge, but to feel it so strongly..." Her voice trailed off, lost in thought.

    Dad leaned forward, his gaze intense. "This is a significant step, my boy. Are you prepared for the challenges that come with it? Your mother and I are Ascendants ourselves. Maybe not anywhere near a Nexus, we are only Blue rank. So we have an idea of how things will go after you awaken but, you say that you want to reach greater heights. Does this mean you truly wish to follow the path of a true Ascendant?¡±

    I met his gaze, unwavering. "Yes, I do."

    My father smiled and gave a small nod. ¡°Well, you have my vote.¡±

    Iris raised her hand reaching for the ceiling, ¡°You also have my vote big brother!¡±

    Dad points at her while eying Mom, ¡°Uh oh, she counts for 2 votes. This means that even if you say no hun, you¡¯ve been outvoted. Ah, I love democracy.¡±

    She gave him a pointed gaze, but eventually sighed and gave me a gentle smile, ¡°I knew this day would potentially arrive, I just didn¡¯t want to think about it. Especially due to the fact of the dangers around it. Alright, I¡¯ll call Chronos tomorrow and see if he can stop by. I¡¯m still going to have him make that oath, there¡¯s no way I am turning that down.¡±

    I was filled with triumph at those words. ¡°Thank you Mom, Dad, I''ll be sure to make you both proud.¡±

    He nodded, ¡°You better, this kind of opportunity to be trained by someone before you even awaken is a massive boon to your advancement. Most of those opportunities are given to family sects, I may have some good connections but nothing this good. Unless your mother here has some I''m unaware of.¡±

    My mom chuckled. ¡°Not unless Rai wanted to work with me at the firm, honey.¡± I raised an eyebrow. Law firms sounded complicated. I had no idea what she actually did there, or how Dad managed to convince people to invest in his startup ideas. They always seemed to be talking in code whenever they were on the phone. Oh well, I¡¯m making a career of punching things so I think I¡¯m fine.

    Turning to Iris I could see that she was basically vibrating in her seat after hearing Mom and Dad approve. Dad turned to me, ¡°So¡­ about that fight.¡±

    I lit up with excitement.

    After dinner, I went to take a shower. The bathroom''s cool embrace was almost intoxicating. Considering the day I had, I felt dirty and sticky all over. From the rain, sweat, and blood that was caking my body. Wrapped in a plush towel, I looked in the mirror at myself. Not a single bruise. My ribs are just a little sore but Chronos said they should be good after a while. I returned to my haven, plopping down on the soft carpet in the center of the room. I should probably put on some clothes since the family likes to walk in without knocking.

    Putting on some fresh clothes I sit in the center of my room again. The idea that I¡¯m actually going to be an Ascendant is still surreal. I may have had somewhat of an education regarding that world, but it was only basic general knowledge. According to Chronos there is information that is withheld or intentionally incorrect to prevent some kids being a little ambitious. Then again, there is a reason there are instructions on a shampoo bottle.

    I sat on the cold, hard floor, my legs crossed beneath me. A ghost of warmth lingered in my memory, a soft glow from within. I could almost feel it, a gentle tide lapping at the shores of my consciousness. It was a comforting sensation, like being wrapped in a warm embrace. I closed my eyes, trying to recapture that feeling. I focused inward, searching for that internal spark. But there was nothing. Just a cold, empty expanse. I willed my body to warm, to radiate that comforting glow, but it was futile. The phantom warmth in my memory mocked my efforts.

    Giving a small chuckle I get off the floor and head over to my desk. I think I¡¯ve earned some time to relax a bit. I turned on my gaming console and indulged in some gaming.

 Chapter 9 - Old Habits

    Chronos Elior

    After arriving home I made my way to my room. The door slid open with a whisper. This room had once been our sanctuary, a place of solace. Now, it''s just a gilded cage, a shrine to a life that no longer fits. The plush carpet muffled my footsteps, but it couldn''t muffle the echo of absence. Sunlight, filtered through sheer curtains, cast a soft glow on the room, but it failed to illuminate the shadows of memory.

    The scent of sandalwood, once a shared indulgence, hung heavy in the air, a bittersweet reminder of days gone by. This opulent cocoon, filled with possessions carefully curated for aesthetic perfection, was a stark contrast to the simplicity I held dear. Material wealth was a fleeting illusion, a distraction from what truly mattered. Yet, here I was, a prisoner of circumstance, dwelling in this gilded prison.

    I crossed the room, my gaze drawn to the large glass pane that dominated one wall. Dawn stretched before me, a living patchwork of neon lights and deep shadows, every flickering bulb hiding a thousand stories I¡¯ll never know. But it was a world I observed from a distance, a detached spectator. I sank into the leather chair, its softness a mockery of the hardness within. I looked out towards the city of Dawn.

    Dawn was not always a city, first, it started off as a man-made continent, then a vacation hotspot, and then after that people began to settle down here. I watched the entire thing, from the beginning when Aeon was trying to prove a point, to now driving a kid to his home. Just thinking about it makes me feel old. Well, I am old, but it doesn¡¯t make me feel better to have been alive way before the continent even existed.

    I usually sit here on some days and just watch the city. I can see everything clearly. My senses can expand far enough to engulf the entire city. With a small amount of effort, I can focus and watch everything as if I¡¯m CCTV. Is it a breach of privacy? Probably. But hey, I¡¯m no voyeur. I prefer more refined distractions.

    This is actually the exact thing I was doing when Rai caught my attention. I was watching the neighborhood he ran through. Mrs. Newton always has the most interesting interactions when she has her fellow elderly over. They were celebrating her 141st birthday. She never advanced past green, just settled down and enjoyed the extra years she gained from awakening. I was watching her and her friends bake a delicious peach cobbler when my show was so rudely interrupted by a young boy running as fast as his legs could take him from three others.

    It was certainly interesting watching him be chased by them as I wondered what the one kid with the bind would do. Sure enough after some time he removed his bind and bolted straight through an offshoot of homes. Jumping the fences with ease. Granted it did take him a bit as he needed to recover his aura. Regardless it worked. It was then I was waiting to be sure he didn¡¯t actually harm Rai while he had his bind off. They were roughly 30 miles away so I could easily intervene if they got a little carried away. Luckily for Rai that one kid, I think his name was Tony, put his bind back on. So there is no need for me to do anything. Well, I could at least get an ambulance for him.

    I figured they would just get rough with him and then call it a day, but they were getting very physical. I watched for a while longer, weighing my options. Let the kid tough it out? Or step in and play savior, as always? In the end, old habits won. I try not to get involved with things like this too often because I get back into old habits of never returning home and trying to fix everything I come across. Amelia would always get on my ass for doing that. She would always tell me, "Chronos, my love, the burden of humanity has already been paid in full. Your heart is beautiful, but you don''t need to shoulder every struggle you see. Come home and rest sometimes."

    Sorry Amelia, but old habits die hard.

    Not long after the boys started fighting I lay on a lounge chair on the roof of a building directly across the alley. I had a good line of sight and no one could see me due to the tarp on top for construction. Soon after watching I was noticing how two of the boys had some form of training for combat. Tony was clearly into some boxing and Bill seemed to know taekwondo, at least the intermediate level. Mateo on the other hand, a disappointment. Clearly never bothered to learn anything and just takes advantage of the fact his friends know something.

    However, regardless of all the punches and kicks, this kid, Rai stood firm, silent under their assault. No cries for help, no cowardice¡ªjust raw defiance in every hit he took. He just covered up and blocked the best he could. There were a few instances where he almost fell, but he regained his composure and stood firm.

    Not bad kid.

    As I watched the brutal confrontation unfold before me, I used my heightened senses to pick up minute details invisible to mortal eyes. Rai, the lone defender, was pinned against the rough brick wall by Tony''s meaty forearm. The boy''s body told a story of escalating trauma and imminent collapse.

    As I observed, I noted several telling signs:

    Rai''s pupils were dilated unevenly, the right more than the left. This subtle asymmetry indicated a mild concussion, likely from an earlier blow to the head. I could see the delicate capillaries in his eyes, strained and pulsing.

    His chest heaved in rapid, shallow breaths. I watched the intercostal muscles strain visibly, working overtime to compensate for reduced lung capacity. A cracked rib, perhaps, restricting full inhalation.

    Microscopic tremors rippled through Rai''s limbs, invisible to human eyes but clear as day to mine. They betrayed the near-depletion of his body''s adrenaline reserves. His fight-or-flight response was faltering.

    A pallid hue had crept into Rai''s normally warm complexion. I could sense the redistribution of blood flow to vital organs, leaving his extremities cold and weak.

    Rai''s neck muscles had gone slack, his head lolling slightly to one side. I perceived his brain''s struggle to maintain equilibrium and spatial awareness.

    To my enhanced hearing, Rai''s heartbeat was a staccato rhythm, arrhythmic and strained. I could almost feel the organ nearing its stress threshold.

    His eyes darted erratically, unable to focus. I observed the rapid deterioration of the connection between visual input and cognitive processing. His body was ready to shut down.

    As Tony''s fist cocked back for the final blow, I calculated with cold precision. The cumulative damage, combined with the impending strike''s force and angle, would be the tipping point. I could sense consciousness clinging to Rai by a fraying thread, and I knew this punch would sever it completely.

    I watched, impassive, as the pivotal moment approached. The threshold between awareness and oblivion was mere seconds away, defined by the arc of a single, brutal swing. Part of me wondered if I should intervene, but I remained still, a silent witness to the unfolding drama of mortal frailty.

    Then, something peculiar caught my attention. A sudden fluctuation in Rai''s heartbeat, a split-second arrhythmia that didn''t fit the pattern of impending unconsciousness. It was as if his heart had skipped a beat, then surged with renewed vigor. I had missed it before because I wasn¡¯t focused on his vitals. I figured something was off when I noticed how easily his eyes followed everyone''s movements and his body was having almost instantaneous reactions to everyone''s attacks.

    My senses, attuned to the subtlest of changes, detected a shift in the air around Rai. It was imperceptible to mortals, but to me, it was like a ripple in reality itself. In that fleeting moment, I sensed something awakening within the boy, a dormant part of him stirring to life.

    As Tony''s fist hurtled towards Rai''s face, I saw a glint in the victim''s eyes. It wasn''t the dull glaze of someone about to lose consciousness, but a sharp, predatory focus. In that instant, I realized this fight was far from over. Rai''s body might have been on the brink of collapse, but something else, something primal and hungry, had taken control.

    I found myself intrigued. This boy, it seemed, was more than he appeared. As his eyes locked onto Tony''s incoming fist, I sensed a transfer of... something. Knowledge? Power? It was as if Rai was not just seeing the attack, but absorbing its very essence.

    The so-called victim had become a predator in sheep''s clothing, and I had a feeling I was about to witness something extraordinary. The battle junkie had awakened, and with it, a power that could change everything. I settled in to watch, my curiosity piqued by this unexpected turn of events. Rai, then smiled. A predatory maniacal grin. And a little, ¡°heh¡±as if he was about to laugh.

    Well I¡¯ll be damned.

    The boy''s potential was evident, but so were his limitations. His physique was far from ideal for combat: skinny arms with little muscle definition, coupled with a small protruding belly ¨C telltale signs of a diet high in carbohydrates and low in protein. Clearly, the lad needed guidance, though I''d probably do it more for my own entertainment than his benefit. Someone like... well, me. After all, I¡¯ve been around long enough to know a thing or two.

    A proper diet would be a start. Not that I¡¯m a nutritionist or anything, but reducing carbs and upping his proteins would help him shed that bit of belly. Sure, I could whip up a training program, but let¡¯s be honest, my version would probably scare the kid half to death. He¡¯s lucky I don¡¯t get too hands-on these days. I chuckled to myself, imagining the boy''s face if I were to suddenly appear as his personal trainer. Now that would be entertainment. After all, my so-called ''Greek god'' physique didn¡¯t just happen overnight. It took plenty of boredom and way too much free time. If nothing else, I¡¯ve mastered the art of looking impressive, even if I rarely have to do more than lift a finger.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    His technique, while impressive given its spontaneous nature, was unrefined. Formal martial arts training would do wonders, honing his instincts and teaching him to maximize the efficiency of each movement. Given his unique ability to assimilate fighting styles, I mused that he could become a formidable martial artist, blending various disciplines into a personalized, unpredictable style. Of course, if he had me as a sparring partner, he''d be unbeatable in no time. I smirked at the thought, an immovable object meets and unstoppable force. That boy will become a walking paradox.

    Most intriguing was Rai''s adaptability. In a prolonged fight, he would be a constantly evolving threat, learning and improving with each exchange. With the right training to build his stamina and endurance, he could become a true force to be reckoned with. And who better to provide that training than me? Though, to be fair, my methods have always been a bit... intense. I¡¯ve shattered more than a few egos, and limbs, over the years. But hey, they always come out stronger. Most of them, anyway. I gave myself an internal eye roll for my usual, over-the-top sense of modesty. But hey, when you¡¯ve been right this many times, it¡¯s hard not to indulge in a bit of self-congratulation.

    As I analyzed these potential improvements, I felt that unusual sensation again, a small grin tugging at the corners of my mouth. This boy, Rai, had awakened something long dormant within me: curiosity. I found myself looking forward to seeing how he would develop, and what chaos he might bring to this world. And if he needed a little divine intervention along the way? Well, I''d be more than happy to oblige. After all, what''s the point of having all this power if I don''t meddle in mortal affairs from time to time? Sure, it''s a bit self-indulgent, but let¡¯s not pretend it doesn¡¯t make things more interesting. Besides, who else is going to keep me entertained?

    As the fight reached its climax, I watched with growing interest. Rai''s newfound prowess was impressive, if unrefined. The way he dispatched his opponents showed a raw talent that, with proper guidance, could become truly formidable. I couldn''t help but smirk at the irony of his attackers becoming the catalysts for his battle junkie awakening.

    The moment Rai raised his fist in victory, I sensed a shift in his demeanor. The fire in his eyes, the slight curl of his lips, all telltale signs of a battle junkie born. How delightfully chaotic.

    But as quickly as it had come, the thrill of battle faded. I observed as the adrenaline drained from Rai''s system, reality crashing down upon him like a tidal wave. His body, pushed beyond its limits, finally rebelled against its reckless treatment.

    I watched him stumble back against the alley wall, his labored breathing echoing in the narrow space. As he slid down into a puddle, utterly spent, a ray of sunlight broke through the clouds. How poetic, I mused. A spotlight for our unexpected hero. Except it looks like he pissed his pants now since he landed in that puddle.

    Deciding it was time for a closer look, I stood from my perch atop the nearby building. With a casual step, I allowed myself to fall, manipulating my aura to cushion my descent. I landed on the wet pavement without so much as a whisper of sound. Sometimes, I even impress myself with my graceful entries.

    Adopting the air of a concerned passerby, a role I''ve perfected over the millennia ¨C I strolled towards the battered boy. Time to play my part in this little drama.

    "Yo, kid, you breathing?" I called out, infusing my voice with just the right amount of worry and curiosity. As I approached, I could see Rai''s eyes struggling to focus on me. Poor lad looked like he''d been put through a meat grinder, a rather successful meat grinder, I might add.

    I squatted down in front of him, making a show of examining his condition. "You need me to call someone, or should I just take you to a hospital?"

    Rai mumbled something, his words slurring together in a delightful cocktail of exhaustion and possible concussion. I waited patiently, fighting back a smirk as he finally managed to string together a coherent sentence.

    "I''m not sure, just a dude sitting here after attempting to defend myself from three guys. Clearly I''m all good to go, I''m just sitting here to enjoy the nice smells."

    Oh, I like this one.

    Even battered and broken, he still had a spark of sass. I scratched my chin thoughtfully, playing along with his little act. "Ah, is that so?" I made a show of turning around, surveying the scene of carnage around us. The three unconscious bodies sprawled across the alley told quite the tale. "Although to be honest," I added, unable to resist a little prod, "I personally wouldn''t call it an ''attempt''."

    Internally, I chuckled at the absurdity of it all. Here I was, a high ranking Ascendant, trading quips with a schoolboy who''d just discovered the intoxicating thrill of combat. The kid had no idea who he was bantering with, a cosmic joke if I ever saw one.

    As I turned back to face Rai, I allowed a hint of amusement to flicker across my features. This encounter was proving far more entertaining than I''d anticipated. Perhaps I''d stick around a bit longer, see how this fledgling fighter would handle the aftermath of his first real brawl. After all, what''s the point of being an immortal being if you can''t occasionally meddle in the affairs of particularly interesting mortals?

    As I watched Rai''s eyes struggle to focus, I could practically see the gears turning in his battered head. His gaze wandered over my shoulder, taking in the carnage of the alley. I didn''t need to turn around to know what he was seeing, the yellow wall with its fresh blood splatters, the strewn trash, and of course, the three unconscious bodies decorating the scene like macabre art installations.

    I bit back a chuckle as I watched realization slowly dawn on Rai''s face. The poor lad looked utterly bewildered, as if he''d woken up in the middle of someone else''s fever dream. His eyes widened comically as he took in the state of his former attackers, one face-down, arms outstretched like a failed Superman, another slumped against a dumpster sporting a lovely vomit accessory, and the third flat on his back with a blood-stained shirt. It was almost adorable how confused he looked.

    Deciding to nudge his memory along, I casually remarked, "You know, even though you look almost as bad as they do, I think you should pat yourself on the back for winning a 1v3."

    The speed at which Rai''s head snapped up to look at me was impressive, given his condition. "Huh?" he sputtered, immediately wincing at his own sudden movement. Oh, he was going to feel that tomorrow. And the day after. And probably the week after that.

    I could practically hear the thoughts rattling around in his concussed brain. The disbelief, the confusion, the slow trickle of memories returning. It was like watching a particularly violent episode of amnesia in real-time. Fascinating, really.

    As Rai''s eyes began to lose focus, I realized the show was coming to an end. "Uh oh, he''s about to go lights out," I announced to no one in particular. Rai''s mouth moved, but no sound came out. Poor lad was running on fumes. "Okay kid, just rest up. I''ll take it from here."

    I watched as consciousness finally slipped away from Rai, his eyes fluttering closed. As silence settled over the alley, broken only by the labored breathing of four very battered individuals, I couldn''t help but smile. This day had taken quite the unexpected turn.

    As silence settled over the alley, broken only by the labored breathing of four very battered individuals, I couldn''t help but smile. This day had taken quite the unexpected turn.

    "Well, well, well," I mused aloud, surveying the scene once more. "Looks like I''ve stumbled upon quite the diamond in the rough. Or should I say, a berserker in the back alley?" I chuckled at my own joke. "Rest up, kid. Something tells me this is just the beginning for you."

    Now, time to tidy up this little mess. Wouldn''t want anyone asking too many questions, would we?

    I took a deep breath, centering myself and tapping into the vast well of Aura within me. The air around me began to shimmer slightly, an invisible force rippling outward. With a casual flick of my wrist, I lifted the three unconscious attackers off the ground. Their limp bodies floated through the air as if gravity had suddenly become optional.

    "Let''s see," I muttered, a mischievous glint in my eye. "How about a little surprise when you boys wake up?"

    With precise movements of my fingers, I arranged the three boys in a cozy group huddle. I positioned Tony in the middle, his arms draped over his companions'' shoulders. Bill and the third attacker were nestled on either side, their heads resting on Tony''s chest. It was a picture of brotherhood and camaraderie, or it would be, if not for their battered faces and the setting. Which I then healed up nicely and now they just look like an odd cuddle puddle with dirty clothes.

    "There we go," I chuckled. "Nothing like a good bromance between the boys."

    Next, I turned my attention to the alley itself. With a sweeping gesture, I gathered all the scattered debris ¨C candy wrappers, discarded cans, and other assorted trash into a neat pile. Another wave of my hand, and the pile vanished, whisked away to the nearest proper disposal site.

    The blood splatters on the wall presented a more delicate challenge. I focused my Aura, visualizing the stains lifting away. Slowly, the crimson marks began to fade, the molecules breaking down and dispersing into the air. Within moments, the wall was clean, bearing no evidence of the recent violence.

    Finally, I knelt beside Rai. With gentle use of my aura, I straightened his limbs and propped him up next to me in a more comfortable position. A soft pulse of Aura-infused energy rippled through him, subtly accelerating his body''s natural healing processes. It wouldn''t fix everything, that would be too suspicious, but it would take the edge off his injuries at least until I get him back home.

    "So I''m going to need to find an excuse that would give me enough time to come back and say ''Hey it turns out I was wrong! You actually can just casually heal someone as long as you¡¯re a high enough rank.''" I mused aloud. "No wait, I can''t be wrong in this situation, meh I''ll figure it out later." This is a prime opportunity for me to play a mysterious role.

    Stepping back, I admired my handiwork. The alley was spotless, three unconscious teens were all snuggled up, and not a trace remained of the brutal fight that had occurred. To any passerby, it might look like a group of friends who had perhaps partied a bit too hard. Or too zesty¡­ oh well.

    "Well, my young friend," I said, turning to the unconscious Rai, "it''s time we made our exit. I think you''ve had quite enough excitement for one day."

    With a casual wave of my hand, the air before me began to ripple and distort. The very fabric of reality seemed to fold in on itself, creating a shimmering portal that pulsed with ethereal energy. Through its swirling surface, glimpses of a lavish, otherworldly dwelling could be seen, my home.

    I gently lifted Rai with my aura, careful not to jostle his injuries. "Let''s get you somewhere more comfortable, shall we? I have a feeling we have much to discuss when you wake up."

    As I stepped through the portal with Rai floating beside me, I couldn''t help but chuckle. "I didn¡¯t wake up today planning to take in a stray berserker, but life''s full of surprises. Even for someone like me."

    With a final glance back at the alley and its snoozing occupants, I stepped fully through the portal. It closed behind us with a soft whoosh, leaving no trace of our passage.

    And now we are here. In my room looking out my window remembering the day. Ah, I wish you were here for this Amelia, you¡¯d have loved the kid. Probably think he was a little me. Although you probably would have wanted to ¡®talk¡¯ to the families that raised those boys.

    My phone then buzzed interrupting my thoughts. Opening my phone I see that I received a text from Rai¡¯s mother. It appears a decision has been made.

 Chapter 10 - Alright, Strip.

    Raiden Alaric

    Sunlight filtered into my room, bright and blinding, stirring me awake with its usual merciless persistence. Today was the day. Chronos will begin training me. The thought sent a jolt of energy through me, and I shot upright¡­ instantly regretting it.

    Pain flared in my sides, stiff muscles angrily reminding me of yesterday¡¯s event. With a groan, I slumped back against the bed. My hip especially screamed in protest, and I couldn¡¯t ignore the sharp ache radiating from my crotch because of that kick I¡¯d thrown. Clearly I¡¯m not nearly as flexible as martial arts would like me. I guess that¡¯s something to add to the list of ¡°Need To Work On.¡± I knew I would be hurting more after I slept but I guess I was trying to feign ignorance at the same time since I wasn¡¯t in as much pain after getting home.

    I shuffled to the mirror, trying to ignore the stiffness in my every move, only to be greeted by a mess of bed hair showing I only slept on one side. Chronos would surely take it a little easy on me today¡­ right? As I wrestled with my wild hair, I couldn''t help but picture the training that lay ahead. Would he take me through intense martial arts drills? Or maybe he¡¯d throw me into some kind of Aura-control meditation that¡¯d test my limits before I¡¯d even learned how to properly focus. My heart can¡¯t help but pound at the thought of what awaits me. Admittedly I would probably be more excited if I wasn¡¯t so sore.

    I started brushing my teeth, distracted by thoughts of what it might be like. I really just can¡¯t help myself can¡¯t I? I want to know what my limits are with this gift I have, being able to mimic someone''s techniques, it¡¯s basically cheating. A grin spread across my foamy mouth as reality sank in.

    I¡¯m going to exploit this in any way I can.

    I was halfway through fumbling on a shirt, wincing with every small movement, when a light knock on my door snapped me out of my thoughts. My mom peeked her head in, her eyes sparkling with the same mix of concern and amusement she always wore when she saw me trying to act ¡°responsible.¡±

    ¡°Rai, just thought you should know, Chronos will be here soon,¡± she said.

    ¡°Oh, uh¡­ thanks, Mom,¡± I managed, trying to play it cool.

    She raised an eyebrow. ¡°You¡¯re sure you¡¯re ready? You seemed like you couldn¡¯t sit in place after I told you we¡¯d let him know he has the green light.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ll be fine. I¡¯ll take everything he¡¯ll throw my way,¡± I said.

    She laughed. ¡°If you say so. Should I tell him that?¡±

    ¡°No! No, definitely don¡¯t tell him that,¡± I said, unable to keep from grinning. I am not in peak condition so I kind of hope I just get a lecture about what we will be doing.

    With a smile and a shake of her head, she closed the door, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I took a deep breath, shrugging on my jacket, when I felt it again¡ªthat odd prickling sensation, like a silent pair of eyes watching from somewhere nearby. I paused, glancing toward the far corner of the room, but of course, nothing was there. Just the quiet, nagging feeling that had been following me for a while now.

    I point to the corner, pretending to break the fourth wall, ¡°Today is the beginning, today I am going to start my climb to the top. You better be ready to watch me thrive.¡± Alright, let''s go.

    The rumble of an engine cut through the quiet morning as a truck pulled into our driveway. Chronos stepped out, dressed in sleek athleisure wear, black joggers, a fitted jacket, and trainers. Seems like he¡¯s also ready to get to it.

    I was leaning against the doorframe, still trying to ignore the stiffness in my legs, when Mom stepped outside. Her lips were pressed together like she had something to say but wasn¡¯t quite sure how to start. Chronos seemed to have noticed.

    ¡°I was thinking,¡± he began casually, hands sliding into his jacket pockets, ¡°before we get started, shall we get the oath taken care of?¡±

    Mom blinked, caught completely off guard. ¡°You¡¯re¡­ really okay with taking the oath?¡±

    I guess she wasn¡¯t sure if he¡¯d still do it.

    He tilted his head with a smirk. ¡°Of course. You¡¯re trusting me with your son, after all. It¡¯s the least I can do to set your mind at ease. Also if I really had any bad intentions I would have never brought it up or made an excuse.¡±

    I could see Mom trying to hide her surprise, but it was written all over her face. ¡°Well¡­ if you¡¯re willing,¡± she said, straightening her posture.

    Chronos chuckled softly. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have offered otherwise.¡± He stepped forward, his tone turning more solemn. ¡°Let¡¯s begin.¡±

    I glanced between them, feeling the air shift slightly. It wasn¡¯t suffocating or heavy, more like the faint hum of an unseen energy. Their hair began to lift gently, like it was caught in a breeze only they could feel. Mom¡¯s eyes glowed faintly, a soft golden light flickering in her irises as she stepped closer to Chronos.

    Mom placed a hand over her chest, her voice steady as she began. ¡°Look into my eyes,¡± she said, her voice steady, carrying a weight I wasn¡¯t used to hearing. ¡°And let your aura reveal its truth. Are you prepared to swear on the Oath of the Open Heart? If so, speak your vow.¡±

    Chronos met her glowing gaze without hesitation, his tone shifting to something deeply earnest. ¡°My heart is open, my aura untainted. I accept this oath and swear with absolute truth: Rai will be safe in my care. I will guide him with wisdom, protect him with strength, and help him discover the limits of his potential. This is my pledge.¡±

    The subtle tremor in the air deepened for a moment, and Mom¡¯s glow seemed to pulse slightly before fading back into a soft shimmer. Her voice softened, but it still carried an undeniable power as she replied. ¡°May your aura remain true, and your intentions pure. The Oath of an Open Heart binds you now.¡±

    The shift in the air grew more noticeable as the oath concluded. Mom¡¯s eyes glowed faintly¡ªa soft, golden light that reflected her aura¡¯s resonance. Her hair lifted slightly more as if responding to the energy exchange, and even Chronos seemed to radiate a quiet intensity.

    ¡°May your aura remain true, and your intentions pure,¡± she said, her voice tinged with the lightest echo of something otherworldly. ¡°The Oath of the Open Heart binds you now.¡±

    The energy surrounding them stilled, settling into the quiet once again. Chronos inclined his head respectfully, and the corner of his mouth quirked up in a smirk. ¡°Satisfied?¡±A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    Mom studied him for a moment, then nodded. ¡°I am. Thank you.¡±

    ¡°No thanks necessary,¡± he said lightly, but the sincerity in his tone lingered. ¡°Now, about Rai.¡±

    ¡°Me?¡± I asked, already bracing for whatever he was about to say.

    ¡°After a few days of working with you, I¡¯ll put together a schedule,¡± he said, clapping me on the shoulder. ¡°Summer break is already here, no? So we¡¯ll see what you¡¯re made of.¡±

    ¡°For sure,¡± I replied, trying to sound casual despite the growing excitement.

    ¡°Good. Hop in, then. Let¡¯s not waste daylight,¡± he said, gesturing to the truck.

    I turned to Mom, who was still watching us with a mix of relief and lingering concern. She gave me a small, reassuring smile and waved as I climbed into the passenger seat. Chronos started the engine, and as we pulled away, I couldn¡¯t help but feel all giddy and want to get started.

    I tried not to gawk too much at the sheer size of his estate as we pulled through tall wrought-iron gates and up a winding driveway. After parking the truck in the oversized garage we made our way to the training hall. It was impossible to miss, it was a separate building connected by a stone pathway, its design minimalist but imposing. Inside, the space opened up into a cavernous hall, with polished wooden floors and walls lined with various training equipment. The air felt different in here, charged, as if the place itself was alive with latent energy.

    ¡°Welcome to my second home,¡± Chronos said, his voice echoing faintly in the vast room.

    I could already imagine myself getting tossed around here. Hopefully not today, though.

    Chronos led me down a side hallway to a smaller, more clinical-looking room. White walls, neatly organized cabinets, and a cushioned table in the center made it clear this was meant for first aid or physical therapy. The contrast between this room and the hall was stark, it felt more like a doctor¡¯s office than a training facility.

    He turned to face me, his expression unreadable as he leaned casually against the doorframe. Then, without missing a beat, he said, ¡°Alright, strip.¡±

    I blinked. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Clothes off,¡± he said, gesturing vaguely at me. ¡°Shirt, pants, the whole deal. Keep the underwear if you¡¯re feeling shy.¡±

    I stared at him, trying to figure out if he was serious. Judging by the deadpan look on his face, he absolutely was.

    ¡°Why?¡± I asked, while covering my nether regions.

    Please don¡¯t tell me this man was actually a pervert this whole-

    ¡°Because I need to know what I¡¯m working with,¡± he replied, his tone as matter-of-fact as a doctor explaining a diagnosis. ¡°I can¡¯t just throw you into training blind, Rai. I need to assess your physique¡ªmuscle density, body fat percentage, skeletal structure, joint flexibility, overall weight, and balance. All of that matters if I¡¯m going to build a proper regimen for you.¡± He began to walk around me and started poking my arms and chest. ¡°Your muscle groups might already be uneven from improper workouts if you¡¯ve ever touched a dumbbell in your life,¡± he said while lifting both my arms. ¡°Although your right arm seems to have a little more experience.¡±

    I sputtered, ¡°HEY THAT¡¯S-¡±

    ¡°Not to mention injuries could limit certain movements. If I don¡¯t check now, I¡¯ll end up working against your body instead of with it. You want to improve, right?¡±

    I swallowed, trying to process his words. ¡°Uh, yeah, of course, but-¡±

    ¡°No buts,¡± he interrupted, his sharp eyes locking onto mine. ¡°This isn¡¯t about embarrassing you. This is about precision. Half the idiots out there injure themselves or plateau because they don¡¯t understand their own bodies. I won¡¯t let that happen to you.¡±

    He smirked faintly, his tone softening just enough to sound teasing. ¡°Unless you¡¯d prefer I figure it all out the hard way, after watching you flop around like a fish during training?¡±

    I groaned, already regretting every decision that had brought me to this moment. ¡°Fine,¡± I muttered, yanking off my shirt and trying not to wince at the soreness still lingering from yesterday.

    Chronos didn¡¯t say anything at first, his sharp gaze flicking over me like he was taking mental notes. Then, he stepped forward, hands clasped behind his back, and began circling me slowly, like a sculptor studying a block of marble.

    ¡°Stand up straight,¡± he said, his tone sharp but not unkind.

    I straightened, sucking in my stomach instinctively.

    ¡°Don¡¯t do that,¡± Chronos said without missing a beat. ¡°Relax. I need to see the real you, not some version you¡¯re trying to sell me.¡±

    Caught and having to accept the shame, I relaxed my stomach. Chronos nodded.

    ¡°Good. Now, spread your feet shoulder-width apart. Raise your arms to chest level, like you¡¯re holding a box.¡±

    As I shifted into the stance, I noticed his eyes narrowing slightly, his focus entirely on me.

    ¡°Alright,¡± he said, stepping forward. ¡°Let¡¯s get the obvious out of the way first.¡±

    He poked my stomach, not hard, but enough to make me flinch. ¡°Little more padding than I¡¯d like. That¡¯s gonna slow you down, especially in footwork and speed drills. We¡¯ll burn that off soon enough.¡±

    Moving to my side, he grabbed my arm, his fingers wrapping easily around my skinny bicep. ¡°Upper body needs work, no surprise there. Skinny, but the muscle you do have is decently responsive. That¡¯s something to build on.¡±

    He crouched slightly, tapping my thigh. ¡°Now, drop into a lunge. Slowly.¡±

    As I lowered myself, I felt his eyes boring into every movement. He placed a hand on my leg, pressing into the muscle.

    ¡°Quads are weaker than they should be. Hamstrings are tight, too tight. Your flexibility is holding you back. That kick you pulled yesterday? Yeah, this is why it hurt so much.¡±

    ¡°How did you-¡±

    ¡°I saw how you were walking, your steps were shorter and you were struggling to get in and out of the truck,¡± He said casually.

    I muttered something under my breath, but he ignored it, stepping behind me.

    ¡°Alright, squat. Deep and slow.¡±

    Groaning inwardly, I followed his instruction, feeling my knees protest the motion. Chronos crouched again, his hands moving along my calves and ankles with a surprising gentleness.

    Is he using aura to analyze my muscles?

    ¡°Ankles lack flexibility, and your balance is shaky. Both need improvement. But you¡¯ve got decent potential for explosive movement. Potential doesn¡¯t mean much until we unlock it, though.¡±

    He stood, motioning for me to raise my arms over my head. His hands followed the motion, pressing into my shoulders and down my upper arms.

    ¡°Your frame¡¯s not bad,¡± he said, his tone almost begrudging. ¡°Skeletal structure is solid. You¡¯ve got a good base for strength and endurance if we can bulk you up a little. But your overall build needs rebalancing, too much strain in the wrong places, not enough strength where it counts.¡±

    Finally, he stepped back, looking me up and down one more time. ¡°Skinny arms, weak legs, a belly that¡¯s too comfortable, but nothing we can¡¯t fix. You¡¯ve got a long road ahead, Rai. Hope you¡¯re ready for it.¡±

    I let out a huff. ¡°Great. So, I¡¯m built like an alcoholic stepdad.¡±

    Chronos smirked, the sharp edge of his humor returning. ¡°Oh, you¡¯re worse than that. But luckily for you, I¡¯m very good at turning deadbeats into something useful.¡±

    He stepped back, motioning for me to follow. ¡°We¡¯ll start simple today. Don¡¯t want you collapsing before I even know what you¡¯re capable of.¡±

    As I followed him, I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling of being a project under construction.

    I don¡¯t regret a single thing, I can¡¯t wait to get started.

 Chapter 11 - Training Arc 1

    I regret everything and want to give up.

    This was all I could think of while lying on the floor, drenched in sweat, my clothes clinging to me like spandex. Every muscle in my body throbbed with the kind of pain that made you reconsider every decision that had led to this exact moment. My arms refused to move. My legs felt like they¡¯d turned to jelly, and even blinking seemed like an insurmountable effort.

    Funny how yesterday, I¡¯d been practically bouncing with excitement. ¡°I don¡¯t regret a single thing, I can¡¯t wait to get started,¡± I¡¯d thought. I now proclaim to the heaven¡¯s, I shall learn how to travel back in time, so I can strangle past Rai for being so damn stupid.

    Above me, Chronos stood like a smug god of suffering, casually flipping a water bottle in one hand. He looked down at me with an expression that danced on the line between pity and amusement.

    ¡°So,¡± he said, his tone maddeningly casual, ¡°is it fun yet?¡±

    I tried to answer, but my lungs had apparently gone on strike. The best I could manage was a wheeze, which earned me a low chuckle.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± he said, crouching down so I could fully appreciate his infuriating smirk. ¡°You¡¯ll get used to it. Or you won¡¯t, and you¡¯ll just adapt out of sheer desperation. Either way, we¡¯re making progress.¡±

    Progress. That word alone made me want to cry. Or maybe laugh. I wasn¡¯t sure anymore. The lines between every emotion I¡¯d ever felt had blurred together under the crushing weight of exhaustion.

    ¡°You¡¯ll thank me someday, Rai,¡± Chronos added, patting my shoulder like I hadn¡¯t just spent the entire day fighting for my life against the concept of gravity itself.

    A weak groan escaped my throat. My body was too battered to voice the retort I desperately wanted to make. Instead, I let my head loll to the side and stared at the ceiling, trying to summon enough energy to even regret my choices properly.

    This had all seemed so simple in theory. Get stronger. Train hard. Unlock my potential. But as I lay there, a puddle of my own defeat, I couldn¡¯t help but relive the events that had led to this moment, the gauntlet of torture Chronos had oh-so-cheerfully called Training Arc.

    And that¡¯s when the memories started flooding back.

    The morning air was brisk, crisp enough to make my lungs ache as I stood at the edge of the sprawling track encircling Chronos'' estate. A course of winding paths, uneven terrain, and strategically placed obstacles lay before me. Chronos stood beside me, dressed in his usual athleisure wear, looking far too relaxed for someone about to put me through what could only be described as cardio hell.

    ¡°Alright, Rai,¡± he began, pointing to the distant treeline. ¡°You¡¯re going to start with a warm-up: five laps around the track. After that, we¡¯ll move on to the fun stuff.¡±

    ¡°Define ¡®fun,¡¯¡± I said warily.

    He smirked. ¡°Oh, you¡¯ll know it when you feel it. Now go. Clock¡¯s ticking.¡±

    I groaned but started running. The first lap wasn¡¯t too bad, my legs found a rhythm, and the cool air helped keep me from overheating. By the second lap, though, my lungs were burning, and the soreness from earlier training sessions started to creep in.

    Chronos jogged alongside me for a bit, not even winded. ¡°Pick up the pace, Rai. At this rate, the snails are going to start lapping you.¡±

    By the fourth lap, my legs felt like lead. The uneven terrain didn¡¯t help; every dip and incline was a fresh torture. I stumbled over a loose rock and barely caught myself.

    ¡°Eyes up,¡± Chronos called from a nearby bench, where he now lounged with a stopwatch. ¡°If you¡¯re going to trip, at least make it dramatic. Bonus points if you roll into the koi pond.¡±

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you try running this?¡± I wheezed, wiping sweat from my brow.

    ¡°Because I already know I can. This is about you, kid.¡± He stood, crossing his arms as he watched me struggle. ¡°Push through it. Your body¡¯s screaming, sure, but that¡¯s just weakness leaving. Or at least that¡¯s what people say to sound inspiring.¡±

    I grit my teeth and kept moving.

    Weakness leaving, huh?

    It felt more like my soul was trying to escape.

    After finishing the laps, barely, I collapsed onto the grass, gasping for air. My victory was short-lived, though. Chronos pulled me up and gestured toward the obstacle course.

    ¡°Don¡¯t get too comfortable. We¡¯re just getting started,¡± he said, leading me to the first challenge: a series of low walls to vault over.

    ¡°I don¡¯t vault,¡± I said flatly.

    ¡°You do now. Come on.¡±

    The first attempt was a disaster. I scrambled up the wall awkwardly, barely managing to swing one leg over before toppling to the other side. Chronos¡¯ laugh echoed behind me.

    ¡°That was¡­ something,¡± he said, grinning. ¡°Try not to look like a fool next time.¡±

    The second attempt went slightly better, though it still wasn¡¯t pretty. By the third, I was starting to get the hang of it¡ªjust in time to move on to the next obstacle.

    Crawling under nets, jumping over hurdles, and weaving through cones left me drenched in sweat and gasping for breath. Chronos kept pace, shouting corrections and the occasional taunt.

    ¡°Come on, Rai! Even my grandma could clear that hurdle!¡±

    Is your grandma even ali- wait is she?

    The last part of the session was a timed sprint. Chronos pointed to a marker about 200 meters away. ¡°You¡¯re going to run to that point and back. Fast as you can. No stopping, no excuses.¡±

    I groaned. ¡°You do realize I¡¯m half-dead already, right?¡±

    He raised an eyebrow. ¡°And yet you¡¯re still talking. Impressive. Now run.¡±

    With a resigned sigh, I took off. The first few strides were torture, my legs screaming in protest, but I pushed through. The wind whipped past me as I focused on the marker ahead, blocking out everything else.

    By the time I stumbled back to the starting point, I was on the verge of collapsing. Chronos caught me by the arm, steadying me.

    ¡°Not bad,¡± he said, nodding. ¡°You¡¯ve got a long way to go, but you didn¡¯t quit. That¡¯s what matters.¡±

    ¡°Thanks,¡± I gasped, doubling over. ¡°Now, can I die?¡±

    He chuckled. ¡°Not yet. We¡¯ve got weight training and a whole evening of flexibility training ahead. But hey, at least your cardio¡¯s improving.¡±

    I shot him a glare, too tired to come up with a witty retort. As grueling as it was, though, I couldn¡¯t help but feel a small flicker of pride. I had survived another round, and for now, that was enough. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    Wait¡­ just how much is he going to have me do?!

    The training area was a nightmare factory of heavy things. Sandbags, kettlebells, weighted ropes, and, of course, the massive tires I had been glaring at since morning. In the center of it all sat a weighted sled, stacked high with what I could only describe as an unreasonable amount of metal plates.

    Chronos gestured toward the sled like a game show host revealing the grand prize. ¡°Your next challenge.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve got to be kidding,¡± I said, staring at it. ¡°You want me to push that?¡±

    ¡°Push, pull, drag¡ªhowever you want to move it,¡± he replied, a smirk tugging at his lips. ¡°Think of it as a bonding experience. You and gravity, duking it out for supremacy.¡±

    I rolled my eyes but stepped up to the sled. Bracing my hands against the cold metal, I planted my feet firmly on the ground. With a grunt, I pushed. The sled moved an inch, then stopped dead, like I¡¯d just run into a brick wall.

    Chronos crouched beside me, barely hiding his amusement. ¡°You know, I expected this to be hard for you, but even I¡¯m surprised. You¡¯re giving ¡®weak¡¯ a whole new definition here.¡±

    ¡°Ah yes the 13 year old doing weight training for the first time is weak, what a surprise they should give you an award for this impressive discovery,¡± I muttered, sweat already dripping down my face.

    ¡°You¡¯re thinking too much about the weight,¡± Chronos said, standing back up. ¡°Don¡¯t focus on how heavy it is. Focus on the fact that it can move. All you need to do is make it happen.¡±

    ¡°OH GEE, WHY DIDN¡¯T I THINK OF THAT?¡± I grumbled, but I adjusted my stance and tried again. This time, the sled moved a whole foot before I had to stop and catch my breath.

    ¡°Better,¡± Chronos said. ¡°You might make it across the field before sunset at this rate. Maybe.¡±

    I shot him a glare, but his teasing was oddly motivating. I threw my weight against the sled, inching it forward little by little. Every muscle in my body screamed in protest, my legs felt like jelly, my arms burned, and my back threatened to give out, but I didn¡¯t stop.

    Chronos followed me, his sharp wit never letting up. ¡°You know, if you collapse now, I¡¯ll have to carry you back. And honestly, I¡¯m not sure you¡¯re worth the effort.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re so generous,¡± I shot back between gritted teeth.

    ¡°Aren¡¯t I?¡± he said, grinning.

    By the time I reached the halfway point, I was gasping for air. My shirt was soaked with sweat, and my hands trembled from the effort of holding onto the sled. I wanted to stop, to give up and just collapse on the ground, but Chronos¡¯ voice cut through my exhaustion.

    ¡°Pain isn¡¯t the enemy, Rai. It¡¯s the teacher. You can hate it all you want, but if you listen to it, you¡¯ll learn where your limits are, and how to break through them.¡±

    Why do you have to make sense?

    With a growl of frustration, I pushed harder, the sled scraping against the ground as I forced it forward. Inch by inch, I moved it across the field, until finally, it came to rest at the far end.

    I collapsed onto my knees, chest heaving, and looked up at Chronos. He stood over me, arms crossed, a small smile playing on his lips. ¡°Not bad. You¡¯re weaker than I thought, but you¡¯ve got heart. Keep that up, and you might survive the week.¡±

    ¡°WEEK?! WHY THE WEEK??¡±

    ¡°Oh didn¡¯t I tell you? Your mother agreed to you staying here 5 days out of the week for training.¡± He said innocently

    ¡°NO YOU DIDN¡¯T TELL ME!¡± I yelled.

    ¡°Well now you know, now keep it up! That was just the warm-up for today¡¯s strength training.¡±

    My heart sank as he motioned toward the sandbags.

    Just you wait old man, once I reach your level I¡¯m gonna kick you so hard they¡¯ll need to search the stars for you.

    The next few hours were a blur of grueling tasks. I carried sandbags across the field, flipped tires that felt heavier than I was, and swung weighted ropes until my arms felt like they¡¯d fall off. Chronos corrected my form with infuriating precision, pointing out every mistake with his usual blend of wit and criticism.

    ¡°Straighten your back, unless you want to look like a question mark by the time you¡¯re thirty,¡± he said, as I struggled to lift a particularly heavy sandbag.

    ¡°Thanks for the encouragement,¡± I groaned.

    ¡°It¡¯s what I¡¯m here for,¡± he replied, completely unapologetic.

    By the end of the session, I was drenched in sweat and barely able to stand, but a small part of me felt proud. I had pushed myself farther than I thought I could, and even though I was exhausted, I could feel the tiniest flicker of progress.

    Chronos clapped me on the back, nearly sending me sprawling. ¡°Good work, Rai. You¡¯ve survived day one. Barely.¡±

    I looked up at him, too tired to come up with a witty retort.

    ¡°Get some rest,¡± he said, his tone uncharacteristically soft. ¡°Tomorrow¡¯s going to be harder.¡±

    Great. Something to look forward to.

    As the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a warm orange glow over the training hall, Chronos brought me to a quiet corner of the space. The air here felt calmer, less intense than the areas filled with weights and training dummies. A large mat stretched across the floor, dotted with blocks, bands, and what looked like a foam roller that had seen better days.

    ¡°Alright, Rai,¡± Chronos said, motioning for me to sit. ¡°Time to find out how bendy you are.¡±

    I plopped onto the mat with a wince, my body already sore from the day¡¯s earlier torture. ¡°I¡¯m as flexible as a paraplegic doing gymnastics.¡±

    Chronos smirked. ¡°I noticed. You¡¯ve got the flexibility of a steel beam. Let¡¯s change that before you tear something important.¡±

    ¡°Like my dignity?¡± I shot back.

    ¡°You harm something you didn¡¯t have,¡± he replied, dropping into a cross-legged position with infuriating ease. ¡°Now, follow my lead.¡±

    He moved through a series of stretches that were deceptively simple at first. Basic hamstring stretches, gentle forward bends, and side lunges. My muscles protested with every movement, tight and unyielding like rusty hinges.

    ¡°Breathe into it,¡± Chronos said, his voice surprisingly calm. ¡°The goal isn¡¯t to force your body into submission. It¡¯s to coax it into letting go.¡±

    Agh¡­ I wanna die.

    I took a deep breath, leaning forward in a seated stretch, trying to touch my toes. My fingers barely grazed below my knees. ¡°I think my body is in protest of such change in the community.¡±

    ¡°Then convince it,¡± he replied, shifting into a deeper stretch. His hands easily wrapped around his feet, his posture perfect. ¡°Flexibility isn¡¯t just about your muscles. It¡¯s about control. Relax your mind, and your body will follow.¡±

    If I could just ¡°convince¡± my body to do shit like this I wouldn¡¯t have this problem. I am QUITE the persuader.

    Chronos didn¡¯t just focus on static stretches. He also had me work on balance. Standing on one leg, shifting into tree poses, and even attempting a warrior pose that had me wobbling like a newborn deer.

    ¡°You need to find your center,¡± he said, arms crossed as he watched me flail. ¡°Right now, you¡¯re about as stable as a house of cards in a hurricane.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m starting to think I finally have competition for the witty retorts,¡± I muttered, nearly toppling over.

    He stepped closer, steadying me with a hand on my shoulder. ¡°Focus on your breathing. Your body follows your breath. Control that, and you¡¯ll find your balance.¡±

    I took a deep breath, focusing on the steady rhythm of my inhales and exhales. Slowly, the shaking in my legs subsided, and I managed to hold the pose without tipping over.

    ¡°Not bad,¡± Chronos said, stepping back. ¡°For someone who¡¯s never done this before, anyway.¡±

    As the session wound down, Chronos guided me through a series of gentle, restorative stretches. Lying on my back, pulling my knees to my chest, and finally sinking into a corpse pose that felt like a gift from the heavens.

    ¡°Flexibility isn¡¯t something you can just get overnight,¡± Chronos said, sitting cross-legged beside me. ¡°It¡¯s a long game, and it¡¯ll test your patience. But trust me, it¡¯s worth it.¡±

    I nodded, too exhausted to respond.

    ¡°Alright, that¡¯s enough for today,¡± Chronos said, standing and stretching his arms above his head like someone who hadn¡¯t just orchestrated my complete physical annihilation. ¡°Get some rest. Tomorrow, we¡¯ll see if you¡¯ve learned anything.¡±

    I propped myself up on one elbow, trying to muster enough strength to glare at him. ¡°Hey, when am I supposed to learn-¡±

    Chronos wagged his finger and clicked his tongue, cutting me off mid-question. ¡°Tsk tsk, there¡¯s no way I¡¯m letting you learn anything with that body. Until you¡¯ve built a solid foundation, you¡¯re not throwing a single punch. So you better get to working hard.¡±

    I opened my mouth to protest, but the rumble of my stomach spoke louder. The sound echoed embarrassingly in the training hall. Chronos chuckled, shaking his head. ¡°Come on, chef. Let¡¯s fix that.¡±

    ¡°Chef?¡± I muttered, dragging myself upright with what little strength I had left.

 Chapter 12 - Meal Prep

    He led me to the kitchen, a gleaming, spacious area that somehow felt out of place in the brutalist training hall. Stainless steel counters, a double-door fridge, and enough high-end cooking gadgets to make a professional chef weep. Chronos opened the fridge, revealing stacks of meal-prepped containers filled with boiled chicken, plain rice, and an assortment of unseasoned vegetables.

    ¡°This,¡± he said, waving a hand at the bland array, ¡°is how I normally handle meals. Simple, efficient, and completely void of personality.¡±

    I stared at the fridge, unimpressed. ¡°I see you¡¯ve taken direct inspiration from the Sentinels¡¯ mess hall on ¡®Beyond Scared Straight: Ascendant¡¯s Edition¡¯.¡±

    I swear that show made me never want to visit their prison specifically.

    Chronos shrugged. ¡°Fuel is fuel. But since you¡¯re here, and I¡¯ve heard rumors that you can actually cook¡­¡± His smirk returned. ¡°I figure it¡¯s time you earn your keep. Take whatever you need and whip something up for us.¡±

    ¡°Us?¡±

    ¡°Why yes, this is part of the training. Getting into a routine and sticking with it. Since you¡¯ll be making your own meals, why not make mine as well.¡±

    I rolled my eyes but couldn¡¯t help the small swell of pride at the compliment hidden in his teasing. Cooking wasn¡¯t just something I did, it was something I was good at, thanks to my mom. She¡¯d always made me help her in the kitchen since I was ten, saying things like, ¡°I¡¯m not raising a son who can¡¯t support himself,¡± which I eventually realized was code for, ¡°Women love a man who can cook.¡± By the time I hit thirteen, I knew the basics like the back of my hand. I can easily make myself a simple meal.

    I glanced over the fridge¡¯s contents, taking mental inventory. ¡°Chicken, rice, veggies¡­ Couldn¡¯t spring for a spice rack?¡±

    Chronos raised an eyebrow. ¡°Do I look like a guy who uses a spice rack?¡±

    I crossed my arms, ¡°So you¡¯re telling me, you, a married man, didn¡¯t once question how your wife¡¯s cooking was different compared to yours?¡±

    He paused, his confident smirk faltering for just a second. ¡°First of all,¡± he said, pointing at me with a wooden spoon he¡¯d grabbed from the counter, ¡°my wife never needed me in the kitchen. She had it handled.¡±

    ¡°Uh-huh,¡± I said, the grin spreading across my face. I leaned over to a non-existent camera and said, ¡°Translation: You¡¯d find a way to burn the water and freeze the stove.¡±

    Chronos snorted, shaking his head. ¡°She trusted me with plenty, just not her spices. And for good reason.¡±

    ¡°Clearly,¡± I shot back, gesturing at the fridge full of boiled chicken. ¡°You¡¯ve been lost ever since.¡±

    He strode to one of the shelves and pulled open a cabinet, revealing rows of spices, some of which still had the seals intact. With a challenging grin, he gestured at the display. ¡°Alright, genius. Show me what you¡¯ve got. Let¡¯s see if you can actually back up all that mouth.¡±

    I blinked, caught off guard for a moment, but quickly stepped forward. ¡°Oh, you¡¯re on,¡± I said, cracking my knuckles. I scanned the spices, already forming a plan in my head. If there was one thing my mom drilled into me, it was how to turn even the blandest ingredients into something incredible.

    With a confident huff, I rolled up my sleeves, washed my hands, and got to work as a new found energy began to well within me. Chronos leaned casually against the counter, arms crossed, watching me with a raised eyebrow like he was trying to figure out if I was about to embarrass myself or pull off a miracle.

    I started with the chicken, seasoning it with a mix of smoked paprika, garlic powder, and a dash of cayenne for heat. The spices clung to the meat as I rubbed them in, the vibrant red and orange hues already making it look more alive than the boiled sadness I¡¯d seen earlier.

    As the chicken sizzled in the pan, I turned to the vegetables, a mix of bell peppers, zucchini, and snap peas. I chopped them with practiced precision, my knife hitting the cutting board in a rhythm that felt second nature. Chronos raised an eyebrow, but said nothing as I tossed the vegetables into another pan with a splash of olive oil.

    Next came the sauce. I deglazed the chicken pan with a bit of chicken broth, scraping up the browned bits stuck to the bottom. Then I added a splash of soy sauce for umami, a touch of honey for sweetness, and a squeeze of fresh lemon juice to balance it all out. The liquid bubbled and thickened as I whisked in a knob of butter, creating a glossy, savory sauce that smelled downright heavenly.

    Just the way Dad likes it. As Mom would say.

    Chronos sniffed the air, his skeptical expression softening into one of intrigue. ¡°Impressive,¡± he muttered, his voice low but audible over the bubbling pans. ¡°Didn¡¯t expect you to actually know what you¡¯re doing.¡±

    I smirked, tossing the vegetables one last time in the pan before plating. ¡°What can I say? My mom didn¡¯t raise a son who can¡¯t fend for himself. Which just means she¡¯s preparing me to impress a girl.¡± The last part sounded more like a mutter.

    ¡°Well, I suppose I owe her thanks for letting me rent a personal chef for a few months,¡± he quipped, watching as I poured the sauce over the perfectly seared chicken.

    ¡°With this kind of service I¡¯d expect a pay increase, if any pay at all,¡± I shot back, adding the vegetables to the plate. I handed him the finished dish with a little flourish. ¡°Alright, try this. See how your poor excuse of a meal compares.¡±

    Chronos took the plate, his usual smirk faltering as he caught a whiff of the dish. He picked up a fork, cut a piece of chicken, and dipped it into the glossy sauce before taking a bite. The moment the food hit his tongue, his expression changed. His eyes widened, and he froze mid-chew like he¡¯d just been hit by a revelation.

    I raised an eyebrow, crossing my arms. ¡°Well?¡±

    He swallowed, looking at the plate with something that could only be described as reverence. ¡°What¡­ is this sorcery?¡±

    ¡°Uh, it¡¯s called spices dumbass, if you eat unseasoned chicken all the time just adding salt and pepper would be enough to make you lose your mind.¡± I said, smirking.

    He ignored me, shoveling another bite into his mouth. Then another. It was like he¡¯d forgotten I was even there. The vegetables didn¡¯t stand a chance, and the chicken was vanishing so quickly I half-wondered if he was inhaling it.

    ¡°Okay, okay,¡± he said finally, setting the empty plate on the counter with a dramatic sigh of satisfaction. He turned to me, clasping his hands together like he was about to plead his case. ¡°Rai, listen. I know you¡¯re here to train and all that, but I¡¯m begging you, please keep cooking. You¡¯ve ruined me.¡±

    I blinked, caught completely off guard. ¡°Ruined you? What are you even talking about?¡±

    He gestured wildly toward the fridge. ¡°This! That poor excuse for food I¡¯ve been eating, boiled chicken, plain rice, it¡¯s nothing but fuel! But this?¡± He pointed at the empty plate with an exaggerated flourish. ¡°This is art. How am I supposed to go back to eating like a caveman after this?¡±

    ¡°Sounds like a you problem,¡± I said, leaning back against the counter, grinning.

    Chronos grabbed the edge of the counter, looking at me with mock desperation. ¡°Come on, kid. You can¡¯t just give me a taste of paradise and then leave me to rot in mediocrity! I¡¯ll pay you. I¡¯ll even spare you an extra lap tomorrow.¡±

    I snorted, shaking my head. ¡°Oh, so now I¡¯m supposed to be your personal chef? Yeah, sure, because training to death isn¡¯t enough.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m serious,¡± he said, though his grin betrayed his amusement. ¡°If you keep cooking like this, I might actually survive this training ordeal myself. You wouldn¡¯t let your mentor starve, would you?¡±

    ¡°Starve?¡± I laughed. ¡°Chronos, you¡¯ve got a fridge full of food. You¡¯re fine. Also, aren¡¯t Ascendants supposed to not need to eat as often?¡±

    He waved off my comment with a dismissive flick of his hand. ¡°Sure, we don¡¯t need to eat as often, but when we do, it should at least be edible. What you''ve made here,¡± he gestured emphatically towards the now empty plate, ¡°is miles beyond just edible.¡±

    I folded my arms, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Really laying it on thick, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    Chronos leaned in, his voice earnest, eyes wide with a hint of theatrical desperation. ¡°You don''t understand, Rai. Eating what you cooked after surviving on my own cooking is like going from licking the mold off your prison cell walls to suddenly dining at a Michelin-star restaurant. The stark difference might just make you weep with joy¡ªor cry for the time you''ve lost eating anything else.¡±This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    I stared at him, trying to stifle a laugh. ¡°That¡¯s an image...¡±

    He straightened, his usual smirking self returning as he caught the humor in his own words. ¡°But it¡¯s accurate. You have a gift, and it would be a shame to waste it. Especially on someone who appreciates it as much as I do.¡±

    Seeing him play up his plight, I shook my head in mock resignation. ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll cook. But you owe me, and I¡¯m not just talking about skipping a lap or two. We¡¯re going to need to renegotiate my training schedule.¡±

    ¡°Deal,¡± Chronos agreed quickly, relief washing over his features. ¡°Anything you want, chef.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t call me chef,¡± I retorted, though a smile was playing at the edges of my lips.

    He chuckled, picking up his fork again as if hoping there might still be a stray crumb to savor. ¡°No promises. You might just earn that title whether you want it or not.¡±

    As Chronos attempted to salvage any last remnants of the meal, I finally took a seat to try some of the food myself. Scooping up a forkful, I allowed myself a moment to enjoy the fruits of my labor. The flavors melded together perfectly¡ªthe slight kick of the cayenne, the richness of the sauce, and the freshness of the vegetables. It was good, really good.

    Chronos watched me eat, a smirk tugging at his lips. ¡°So, how does it feel being your own biggest fan?¡±

    I laughed, setting down my fork. ¡°It feels justified when the food is actually edible. But let¡¯s talk about something else, this training of yours. It¡¯s brutal. Are you planning on keeping it this rough?¡±

    He nodded, his expression turning serious. ¡°The physical training has to be consistent, and yes, rough. You¡¯re here not just to learn martial arts, but to excel in them. Your body needs to be as prepared as your mind. This early phase, the one that¡¯s making you question all your life choices, is about building a foundation. Stronger, faster, more resilient.¡±

    I took another bite, mulling over his words. The food helped take the edge off the soreness that seemed to have settled into every muscle. ¡°So, it¡¯s all just a head start? You¡¯re pushing this hard now so I won¡¯t fall apart later?¡±

    ¡°Exactly,¡± Chronos replied, leaning back in his chair. ¡°What we¡¯re doing now is tempering you, like steel. We push hard at the start to build up your endurance and strength. That way, when you start the actual martial arts training, you¡¯ll be able to handle it. You won¡¯t just be keeping up; you¡¯ll be setting the pace.¡±

    I considered this, feeling a mix of apprehension and excitement. The thought of reaching that level of ability was enticing, but the road there was daunting. ¡°And you think I can really get to that point?¡±

    Chronos¡¯ gaze met mine, steady and unwavering. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be pushing you this hard if I didn¡¯t think you could handle it. You¡¯ve got potential, Rai. More than you realize. But potential alone isn¡¯t enough. You need to forge it into something real.¡±

    Finishing my meal, I felt a renewed sense of determination stir within me. The food was not just nourishment; it was a brief respite, a moment of enjoyment amidst the grueling routine. ¡°Alright,¡± I said, standing and collecting the dishes. ¡°Let¡¯s move forward then. And tomorrow, maybe ease up on the ¡®chef¡¯ comments?¡±

    Chronos laughed, shaking his head as he stood to help clear the table. ¡°No promises, Rai. But I¡¯ll consider it.¡±

    As we left the kitchen together, I felt strangely grateful for the hardship and even for Chronos¡¯ relentless drive. If this was the path to becoming stronger, then maybe, just maybe, it was worth all the sweat and tears. And if nothing else, at least I could cook a decent meal, that had to count for something.

    While Chronos led me to where I¡¯d be staying, he spoke again, ¡°Ah, and one more thing.¡± He reached into his pocket and pulled out something small. In his hand was what looked like a pill¡ªglossy and metallic, catching the light as he held it between his fingers.

    ¡°This,¡± he said, offering it to me, ¡°is called the Steel Forged Pill. It¡¯s a supplement to help with your muscle growth while you sleep. Think of it as a little extra boost to help your body recover from the day¡¯s tortu- ahem, training.¡±

    I eyed the pill warily. It seemed innocuous enough, but the name alone was enough to make me hesitate. ¡°Steel Forged? Sounds intense.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s perfectly safe, I assure you,¡± Chronos said, a hint of amusement in his voice. ¡°Developed for Ascendants and Non-Ascendants alike who need to recover quickly between training sessions. It speeds up the repair and strengthening of muscle fibers. You¡¯ll feel less sore in the morning, and it¡¯ll help you build strength at an accelerated pace. But don¡¯t think this is a magic pill that will just make you shredded in a few weeks. What makes the pill work best is when you are actually putting in the work to utilize its effects.¡±

    Taking the pill from him, I turned it over between my fingers. The day had been grueling, and the thought of anything that might ease the aches was tempting. ¡°Any side effects?¡± I asked, half-joking.

    ¡°Only good ones,¡± he replied with a chuckle. ¡°You might wake up feeling like you can bench press a train. Don¡¯t actually try to though, there have been so many lawsuits for people hurting themselves just from them overestimating it¡¯s effects. Just make sure to take it with water, and right before bed.¡±

    ¡°Alright,¡± I said, still a bit skeptical but trusting his judgment. After all, Chronos hadn¡¯t steered me wrong yet. I pocketed the pill. ¡°Thanks, I guess. Here¡¯s hoping I turn into a White ranked Ascendant overnight.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t get your hopes too high¡ªyou won¡¯t be leaping buildings just yet. But you¡¯ll definitely start feeling stronger,¡± he assured me as we arrived at a simple but comfortable room. It was sparsely furnished, with just a bed, a desk, and a small wardrobe.

    As he left me at the door, Chronos turned and added, ¡°Get some rest. Tomorrow, we¡¯ll push even harder.¡±

    I nodded, though the thought of ¡®pushing harder¡¯ made my already sore muscles recoil in fear. Once inside my room, the minimalist setup was immediately comforting in its simplicity. The bedroom was streamlined with a bed dressed in crisp white linens, a sleek dresser for my clothes, and a large window that provided a view of the relentless training grounds. I placed the Steel Forged Pill on the dresser and made my way to the bathroom.

    The space was modern and uncomplicated, featuring polished concrete walls and floors that gave it an industrial yet refined look. It was equipped with just the essentials: a spacious glass shower with a rainfall showerhead, a simple sink, and a toilet. Matte black fixtures complemented the stark, clean lines of the design.

    Relieved at the thought of a hot shower, I stepped into the bathroom and stripped off my sweat-soaked gear. The modern simplicity of the space felt almost therapeutic as I turned on the water, and soon the glass enclosure was filling with steam. I stepped under the rainfall showerhead, letting the hot water cascade down over my aching muscles, washing away the grime and tension of the day.

    As I lathered up, my eyes caught sight of a brand-new toothbrush and tube of toothpaste laid out next to the sink. They were still in their packaging, a small but thoughtful provision that made the place feel less like a temporary lodging and more like home. After the shower, I dried off and took care of my teeth, appreciating the minty freshness and the feeling of cleanliness.

    I will no longer take for granted personal hygiene.

    Back in the bedroom, I pulled on a set of clean athleisure wear from the dresser. The fabric was soft and comfortable, perfect for a good night''s rest. I then walked over to the dresser where I had left the Steel Forged Pill. Picking it up, I glanced at it once more, its sleek, metallic surface reflecting the soft light of the room. With a resigned sigh mixed with a hint of curiosity, I filled a glass with water from the bathroom and swallowed the pill, hoping it would live up to its promises.

    Finally ready to call it a day, I turned off the lights and slid under the covers. The bed was firm yet comfortable, and as I settled in, I could feel my eyelids growing heavy. Despite the training and the daunting prospect of what tomorrow would bring, a sense of calm washed over me.

    With that last thought, I drifted off into a deep, restorative sleep, as I oh so rightfully deserved.

    The calm of deep sleep was shattered by the abrupt blaring of my alarm, which was actually Chronos standing at the doorway, slamming a pan and ladle together loudly. The sudden noise jolted me awake, my heart racing as I blinked against the dim light filtering through the curtains.

    "Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty!" Chronos called out, his voice booming in the quiet of the early morning.

    I groaned, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. My body felt surprisingly less sore than I had anticipated, maybe a testament to the effects of the Steel Forged Pill, but my mind was still foggy with sleep. I picked up my phone off the nightstand, it was barely past four in the morning.

    Who in their right might would be up at this ungodly hour?

    "Why so early?" I mumbled, sitting up and struggling to find the energy to move.

    "Because improvement doesn¡¯t sleep-in, neither do we," Chronos replied with a smirk. He tossed a fresh set of athleisure wear onto the bed. "Today, we''re setting a strict schedule, and I expect you to stick to it. We start with a run, followed by strength training, then skills practice, and we¡¯ll wrap with recovery exercises and review. Every minute counts."

    I sighed, the prospect of another grueling day looming over me as I dragged myself out of bed. The fabric of the new clothes felt cool against my skin as I changed, a small comfort as I braced myself for what was coming.

    As I laced up my sneakers, Chronos leaned against the doorframe, watching me with an expression that suggested he was calculating just how far he could push me today. "We''re focusing on endurance this morning. You''re going to run the perimeter of the property. This way you¡¯ll easily get a couple of miles. Oh and side note, do the socks and underwear fit? I took an educated guess."

    With a yawn I gave him a thumbs up, ¡°Yeah they fit well.¡±

    The fact he so casually said running around the perimeter of his property would net a couple of miles really made me wonder if Chronos was at all self-aware. I took a deep breath to both steady myself and get some good ol'' oxygen to my brain. The chill of the morning air hit me as we stepped outside, the sky still a deep navy blue, stars faintly twinkling. As we walked, I noticed just how energized I was beginning to feel, a stark contrast to the fatigue that had pulled me deep into sleep only hours before.

    Noticing my brisk pace, Chronos glanced over with a knowing smirk. "Feeling a bit more lively, are we?"

    I nodded, slightly surprised by my own vigor. "Yeah, I actually do. That pill... it¡¯s working faster than I expected. What exactly is in it?"

    Chronos kept his eyes on the path ahead but responded with a tone of approval. "The Steel Forged Pill isn¡¯t just for muscle growth. It acts a bit like a pre-workout. Once your body gets some rest, it accelerates rejuvenation, pushing your metabolism and energy production. Think of it like a kick of caffeine or the boost people feel from a gym supplement. It¡¯s designed to wake you up and keep you moving, makes the training more bearable and far more effective."

    I processed this, my steps unconsciously quickening in sync with the rush of newfound energy coursing through me. "So, it¡¯s not just helping me recover, it¡¯s actually pushing me to do more?"

    "Exactly," Chronos confirmed. "It primes your body to handle more strain, trains you to sustain energy longer. You''re not just training your muscles and skills out here; you''re training your endurance, your very capacity to handle stress. Physical and otherwise."

    As we approached the start of the running trail, the reality of what lay ahead felt daunting yet strangely exhilarating. The pill, the training, the cold clarity of the dawn¡ªit all converged into a moment of potent readiness. I was more than just awake; I felt alive, capable, ready to tackle whatever twisted regimen Chronos had planned.

    "Alright," Chronos clapped me on the back as we stopped at the trailhead. "Let¡¯s put that energy to good use. Remember, it¡¯s not just about keeping up¡ªit¡¯s about pushing forward."

    With the lingering stars as witnesses, I took the lead, setting a brisk pace as the first light of dawn began to edge the horizon. Each step reinforced the idea: I was here to grow stronger, faster, tougher. The Steel Forged Pill was just one part of the equation, but as my feet pounded the trail, I felt like I was racing towards something greater, something formidable. This wasn¡¯t just training; it was transformation. Despite the challenge, a part of me thrilled at the push, the drive to exceed my limits. Maybe, just maybe, I was starting to enjoy this.

 Chapter 13 - No Pain, No Gain

    Let¡¯s get one thing straight, no one in their right mind would volunteer for this knowing everything I¡¯m going through. I¡¯m going to find the person who said, ¡°No pain, no gain,¡± and drag their asses from the end of Chronos¡¯ truck and drive across the entire city. Yet, here I am, willingly subjecting myself to the kind of mornings where even the sun seems to think twice before rising. Never in my life have I ever begun to get PTSD from waking up and not seeing the sun out yet. I¡¯m even starting to complain about the damn birds being too loud.

    My daily grind under Chronos¡¯s watchful eye is a masterclass in physical torture, disguised as ¡®training,¡¯ of course. It¡¯s all about transforming me into a being worthy of, well, more training. Combat skills are off the menu until I''ve apparently earned the right to throw a punch by practically becoming a punch. Or at least that¡¯s how he tried to sugar coat it. Each day is meticulously carved up to stretch, strain, and test every muscle I¡¯ve got

    Some I¡¯m pretty sure don¡¯t exist in human anatomy, but I sure as hell can feel whatever this is supposed to be.

    The week kicks off at an hour only insomniacs and roosters can appreciate. How do I start my glorious day you ask? A run that feels like a marathon and a half, around Chronos¡¯s vast, seemingly never-ending property. The stars are still out, likely placing bets on how many laps before I collapse.

    Then, it¡¯s off to the weights. The gym is my new best frenemy, filled with equipment that I suspect was designed by someone who deeply dislikes humanity. Chronos pushes, prods, and occasionally grunts a semi-approving, ¡°Not bad,¡± as I lift, pull, and press every piece of metal that isn¡¯t bolted down.

    Okay I know I¡¯m projecting but just humor me here, I have never done this before. I¡¯ve only ever read such intense training regiments in my manga or shows. Only difference is they have time skips, I on the other hand, do not. So me saying ¡°seemingly never-ending property¡± isn¡¯t entirely hyperbole. I asked and found out that running around the perimeter of his estate is roughly over 4 miles. Yes, I¡¯m not kidding. There are roughly 12 buildings I round around every day when I¡¯ve only been in 3. At least, I think it was 3¡­ 4 maybe? Well whatever.

    By evening, I''m engaging in what Chronos calls ¡®active recovery,¡¯ which is just a fancy way of saying ¡®find new and creative ways to hurt in the name of health.¡¯ Stretching sessions are where I contemplate life choices and wonder if my muscles have always been this vocal about their displeasure.

    After surviving another day of relentless physical drills, the kitchen became an unexpected battleground where I could actually take charge. Cooking had always been more than just preparing food for me; it was a slice of normalcy, a piece of home I could hold onto even here. And now, it was also becoming a shared ritual between Chronos and me.

    As I added a dash of turmeric to the skillet, Chronos picked up another spice jar, examining it curiously before handing it to me. ¡°Why this one?¡± he asked, nodding towards the cumin in his hand. The casual nature of his inquiry showed how our kitchen interactions had evolved into something more akin to friendly banter.

    I took the jar, smiling as I unscrewed the cap and let the earthy aroma mix with the sizzling contents of the pan. ¡°Cumin¡¯s good for more than just flavor,¡± I explained, sprinkling a measured amount into the dish. ¡°It adds a warmth that complements the turmeric well, and it¡¯s great for digestion. My mom always says that a spice should always serve multiple purposes in a dish, not just taste good.¡±

    Chronos watched as the spices transformed the simple ingredients into something aromatic and inviting. He seemed to consider my explanation, then nodded thoughtfully. ¡°Your mother taught you well. It¡¯s about using what you have to enhance, not overpower, right?¡±

    ¡°Exactly,¡± I agreed, stirring the pan. The spices mingled, filling the kitchen with a comforting scent that made even Chronos relax a bit. ¡°Each spice has its role, much like each part of our training. Right?¡±

    Chronos smiled, ¡°Well at least you understand that much.¡±

    The conversation drifted naturally from spices to training techniques, each of us sharing insights and learning from the other. It was during these moments, with the gentle hum of the stove and the clink of utensils, that I realized how much I valued these exchanges. They were lessons in themselves, not just about cooking or training, but about building respect and understanding through shared experiences.

    As we sat down to eat, the warmth of the meal seemed to echo the warmth growing between us, a mentor and his student, finding common ground beyond the training.

    ¡°Rai, these meals might just be the best part of my day,¡± Chronos admitted as he took another bite, his usual stern demeanor giving way to something softer.

    I laughed, ¡°The best part of my day is taking a shower and sleeping.¡±

    ¡°Oh don¡¯t you worry, I have something planned for tomorrow,¡± He said with a sadistic tone.

    I flipped him off.

    As days blend into a relentless loop of exertion, each session builds on the last. My body begins to adapt, muscles toughening up, endurance creeping upward. It¡¯s a slow, painful ascent towards whatever peak Chronos has in mind.

    I just want to fight again¡­

    Each day closes with a silent acknowledgment between us that this is just the beginning. If I can get to the proper physique that Chronos is seeking, then I¡¯ll be able to fight again. My only solace is the gradual strengthening of my resolve, matched only by the stiffness of my limbs. All to end with food, a warm shower, a funny pill, and sleep. Sleep was the best part. I¡¯m totally sleeping in when I get back home.

    As Friday''s training drew to a close, Chronos and I gathered our gear in the fading light. My body was a map of aches, each muscle a testament to the week¡¯s labor. I was ready for a break, looking forward to two days without the relentless schedule that had defined my life since Saturday.

    Why couldn¡¯t he have waited until Monday to pick me up for this?

    They say the early bird gets the worm, but I¡¯m also going to want to talk with the person who came up with this saying as well. If they are the same person that came up with ¡°No pain, no gain,¡± then hey, I can kill two birds with one stone. In the literal sense of course.

    "Rai, you¡¯ve pushed hard this week. Well done," Chronos said, his voice reflecting a rare note of approval. "This weekend, though, while your body rests, we¡¯ll begin sharpening another tool, your mind." He said this while acting like he¡¯s attempting to hypnotize me.

    My interest perked up at his words, fatigue momentarily forgotten. "Meditation, right? To help with aura awakening?"

    "Yes, glad you caught on quickly" Chronos nodded, clearly pleased with my eagerness. "Meditation is critical. It¡¯s not just about stillness; it¡¯s about deep connection. You''ll learn to sit in the lotus position, focus on specialized breathing techniques, and use your senses to truly feel and monitor your body. This awareness is your first step towards sensing and eventually controlling your aura."

    The concept wasn¡¯t new to me; aura was the power of our world, after all. The prospect of tapping into my own, of potentially awakening it, sent a thrill through me. To think that meditation could pave the way to such power was both exhilarating and daunting.

    "How do I start?" I asked, already imagining myself mastering this new skill.

    "Tomorrow morning, I¡¯ll guide you through your first session. Think of it as quiet strength training," Chronos explained, his demeanor serious yet encouraging. "The techniques I''ll teach you are about grounding yourself, feeling every part of your being, and starting to sense the energy that makes up your aura."

    Understanding the significance of what he was proposing, I nodded, excitement building within me. "I¡¯m ready. It sounds like a whole new aspect of training."

    "It is," he confirmed. "And it¡¯s just as important as the physical workouts. Meditation will not only help in developing your aura but also in maintaining focus and resilience in everything you do."

    As we walked away from the training grounds, the promise of what was to come filled me with anticipation. The weekend would indeed be for recovery, but it would also be a time for growth in another area I had yet to explore.

    The dawn brought a soft gray light that filled the quiet corner of the training hall where I sat across from Chronos. The cool stillness of the morning was a stark contrast to the usual vigorous start to our days. I am honestly expecting him to throw a large medicine ball at me and say, ¡®Let¡¯s play catch.¡±

    Wait, no I never thought of that. I can give Chronos any ideas.

    "Comfortable?" Chronos asked in a low, calm voice, setting a tranquil tone for the session. He was kind of over doing it but nonetheless I settled in.

    I shifted slightly on my mat, settling into the lotus position. "As comfortable as one can be with muscles as tight as a fat person in skinny jeans," I managed, with a yawn.

    "Good. Now, close your eyes. Focus on your breathing, deep, slow inhalations, and equally slow exhalations. Feel the air fill your lungs, and with each breath, try to relax a little more," Chronos instructed.

    I followed his directions, letting each breath loosen my body further. As my muscles relaxed, a sense of calm began to envelop me.

    "Now," Chronos continued, his voice softer, "visualize a cup sitting on a table in front of you. It¡¯s an ordinary cup, but it¡¯s going to help you understand your aura."

    In my mind¡¯s eye, I pictured a simple ceramic cup on a wooden table, bathed in the gentle light of the morning that seeped through my closed eyelids.

    "Imagine that with each breath you take, you¡¯re gathering your energy, your aura. And as you exhale, you¡¯re going to fill that cup with your aura. See it as a color, a light, or even a feeling, however it appears to you," he guided.

    Concentrating, I envisioned my breath as a stream of water flowing into the cup from the bottom. Initially, my mind wandered to the aches in my body, the sound of my breathing. But gradually, with continued focus and guided by Chronos¡¯s voice, the image of the cup filling with a glowing light became clearer.

    "Keep filling that cup," Chronos encouraged. "Each breath pushes more of your energy into it. Visualize your aura growing stronger, more tangible with every exhale."

    Time seemed to stretch on as I deepened my connection to the cup, to the aura I was visualizing. This exercise, creating something visible from my own energy, felt empowering. It helped me focus and gave me a tangible sense of my own power, something wholly new and exhilarating.

    "Now, gently, when you¡¯re ready, open your eyes and come back to the room," Chronos instructed after several minutes.

    I obeyed, opening my eyes slowly. The room snapped back into focus, the imagined cup and table fading away, but the sensation of energy coursing through me lingered.

    "How do you feel?" Chronos asked, watching me intently.

    I paused, taking stock of myself. "Energized. More... aware, somehow," I replied, surprised by the profoundness of the experience.

    "That¡¯s your aura you¡¯re beginning to connect with," Chronos said, nodding with satisfaction. "With practice, this visualization will not only help you harness your aura but also control it. Think of it as the first step towards truly awakening your potential. But don¡¯t think the cup is going to remain, soon you¡¯ll develop your own forging technique soon after you awaken."

    Okay, now we¡¯re talking.

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    As I pulled on the clothes I had arrived in, the fabric felt slightly stiff against my newly sensitized skin. Adjusting the collar, I couldn''t help but notice how restrictive my old jeans and shirt felt compared to the athleisure wear I''d gotten used to at Chronos''s facility. The gear there was designed for movement, for ease, and admittedly, I had grown to prefer it.

    I hope this preference for stretchy pants is just temporary.

    I thought this to myself with a wry smile, half-joking but also half-concerned that my wardrobe preferences were shifting along with my physical and mental boundaries. While I did bring a bag that had some simple shorts and a t-shirt, I¡¯m glad Chronos bothered to get me some clothes to train in. I¡¯m sure my thanks was kindly delivered to his stomach.

    Just as I was patting down my shirt, a knock came at the door. It swung open to reveal Chronos, his expression unreadable.

    ¡°Got a minute?¡± he asked, stepping into the room.

    I nodded, half-expecting another surprise session or a last-minute drill.

    ¡°I¡¯m giving you a key to my place,¡± Chronos said, his voice casual as he placed a small, metallic key on the dresser. ¡°I¡¯ll pick you up Monday at 3 AM. We¡¯re starting the week off earlier.¡±

    I stared at him, my mouth open. ¡°Three in the morning? Seriously?¡±

    He smirked, clearly anticipating my reaction. ¡°You¡¯ll be surprised how easily you¡¯ll wake up. Today¡¯s meditation was just the beginning. You¡¯re adjusting faster than you think. But to answer why so early, it takes 30 minutes to get here, so you are going to need time to not only get here, but also get changed and prepared.¡±

    I sighed, running a hand through my hair. It seemed my weekends were going to start feeling a lot like the weekdays, short. But it makes sense, unfortunately.

    As I pocketed the key, feeling its weight against my thigh, Chronos held out two pills, similar to the Steel Forged Pill but smaller, with a deep blue hue.

    ¡°These are for your meditation sessions over the weekend,¡± he explained, his tone shifting to something softer, more serious. ¡°It¡¯ll help relax you and enhance your sensory perception. It should make it easier for you to connect with your aura, to feel it more intimately.¡±

    I took the pills, examining them closely. ¡°Are they safe?¡±

    ¡°Of course it is,¡± Chronos assured me. ¡°Have I ever given you something that would harm you?¡±

    I wanted to mention the grueling training I''d endured this past week but thought better of it. His semantics were tricky, technically, he hadn¡¯t given me the training; he¡¯d made me do the training.

    I slipped the pills into my pocket next to the key. ¡°Thanks. Do these pills also have an intimidating name like ¡®Auric Echo Pills¡¯?¡± I asked, my tone dripping with sarcasm.

    Chronos raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his eyes. ¡°Yes¡­ that¡¯s exactly what they¡¯re called. How did you know?¡±

    My eyes widened, and I stuttered for a moment. ¡°What? Wait, they¡¯re actually called that?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Chronos answered, barely concealing a smirk.

    I gave him a deadpan look, momentarily thrown by his sense of humor. It was unsettling when he was this playful.

    Chronos clapped me on the shoulder, a gesture that had become familiar over the week. ¡°Enjoy your weekend, Rai. Rest, meditate, and be ready for Monday. Don¡¯t think that I¡¯m going to start taking it easy on you.¡±

    With that, he led the way out of the training facility and into the early morning light. The drive home was quiet, filled with my own thoughts about how things will develop over this summer. The key in my pocket felt like a tether, pulling me back to this new reality I was still adjusting to, while the pills were something that I was excited to try.

    After Chronos'' car pulled up to the curb, I stepped out, my bag slung over one shoulder. The familiar sight of my family''s house, with its welcoming porch light, was a wave of both relief and comfort. Taking a deep breath, I walked up to the front door and knocked.

    The door swung open almost immediately, and there stood my father, his face breaking into a wide smile. He peered past me to give Chronos a wave as he drove off, then turned his attention back to me. "Back already? How¡¯d it go?" he asked, stepping aside to let me in.

    I barely had time to open my mouth when a blur of motion caught my eye. My mother, ever the bundle of energy, rushed over and pulled me into a tight embrace. "Let me look at you! Are you eating enough? You''re not too exhausted, are you?"

    Her hands fluttered over me, checking for any sign of undue strain or injury, her questions firing off like shots in the dark.

    Before I could muster a response to either of my parents, footsteps thundered down the stairs, and Iris appeared. Her hair was tousled from sleep, but her eyes were bright with curiosity. "Rai, you¡¯re back! Tell us everything! Is it as tough as they say? Did you learn any cool moves?"

    I chuckled, overwhelmed but touched by their concern and curiosity. "Can I at least get in the door?" I joked, finally stepping fully inside and dropping my bag by the entryway.

    As my family gathered around, eager for details, I realized how much I¡¯d missed this, missed them. "It¡¯s tough, yeah," I started, glancing from my mother''s anxious expression to Iris''s excited one. "But I¡¯m learning a lot. No cool moves yet, though. It¡¯s all about building up endurance and... other stuff," I added, thinking of the meditation and the aura work that Chronos had begun to introduce.

    My mother finally seemed to relax a bit, though I could tell she was already planning a meal to ''fatten me up''. My father clapped me on the shoulder, a silent message of pride.

    "I¡¯ll tell you all about it, but maybe after I¡¯ve had a chance to sit down," I said, my legs reminding me of the week¡¯s exertions.

    Iris nodded, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet. "Deal. But you''re telling me everything, Rai. Every single detail!"

    ¡°Oh, are you planning on following the footsteps of your cool older brother?¡± I smirked.

    Laughing, I agreed, grateful for the normalcy of home, for the familiarity of family fussing and sibling curiosity. It grounded me, reminded me of why I was pushing myself so hard. With a deep, satisfying sigh, I sank into the couch, ready to share stories of my training, knowing that no matter how tough things got, coming home would always be the best part of my week.

    As I settled into the familiar comfort of our living room couch, the whole family gathered around, their faces a mix of concern and curiosity. I started recounting the week¡¯s training, glossing over the toughest parts to spare my mom from immediate panic. Despite my efforts, her worry was palpable, and more than once, she reached for the phone.

    "Mom, really, I¡¯m okay," I reassured her each time, gently lowering her hand away from the phone. "Chronos is tough, but he knows what he¡¯s doing. There¡¯s no need to call him."

    Each mention of the day''s intensity or a particularly grueling session had her on edge. "He''s not overworking you, is he? That man needs to know there are limits!" she exclaimed, her maternal instinct in full throttle.

    "No, Mom, it''s all planned out. It''s supposed to be intense. That¡¯s how the training works," I explained, trying to inject a tone of confidence I only half-felt myself. It seemed to work, as she settled back, though still eyeing me with a look that said the jury was still out on whether Chronos would receive a concerned call from her.

    Chronos, you owe me one for dealing with this.

    Meanwhile, my dad¡¯s interest grew with each story of endurance and strength training. "You think you could show me some of those exercises? Might be good for my morning routine," he mused, his tone half-joking but clearly intrigued by the idea of incorporating something new into his own workouts.

    "Sure, Dad. Some of them can be done without any fancy equipment. I¡¯ll show you tomorrow," I promised, amused by his eagerness to try out the routines that had left me exhausted.

    Iris, ever fascinated by the mystical aspects of our world, was more interested in how the physical training tied to the awakening of one¡¯s aura. "So, does all this help with your aura? How does that work? Will you be able to do cool aura stuff soon?" Her questions tumbled out faster than I could answer.

    "It¡¯s not just physical," I explained. "There¡¯s a mental aspect we¡¯re starting to work on, too. Meditation and stuff. It¡¯s supposed to help me connect with my aura more effectively. But it¡¯s going to take a lot of practice."

    "Wow, that sounds amazing. Can¡¯t wait to see when you start using it," she replied, her eyes wide with a mix of pride and wonder.

    I chuckled, patting her head. ¡°When I do, I¡¯ll show you first. Sorry, Mom and Dad, but Iris has first dibs.¡±

    Iris turned to them with a smug grin, clearly pleased with her ¡®victory.¡¯

    ¡°That¡¯s not fair,¡± Dad protested, trying to look stern but the twinkle in his eye gave away his amusement. ¡°As your father and the leader of this household, I should have first rights by default.¡±

    Mom laughed, joining in the playful dispute. ¡°Oh, please, if anyone should get first dibs, it¡¯s me. I¡¯m the one who keeps this warrior fed and healthy.¡± Seems like ever she is showing some pride here despite her worry.

    The room filled with laughter, the lightness of the moment drawing us closer together. It was these small, joyful exchanges that reminded me just how lucky I was to have their support and love, how it grounded me after all the training.

    As we jumped from talking about the tough workouts to all the cool stuff about aura and how meditation fits into it, I was really thankful they were so into hearing about everything. It was awesome being able to just spill all the details, the hard parts and the wins, without holding back.

    After a while, though, the chat started to die down, and I figured it was about time to head up to my room. I needed a bit of a break to sort through all the stuff we talked about¡ªnot just the training stuff but also just being back home. It¡¯s weird, but in a good way, how being here feels so normal but also kind of not, especially after such an intense week.

    "Thanks for listening, guys. It means a lot," I said as I stood.

    "Anytime, Rai. We¡¯re here for you, always," my dad said, giving me a supportive nod.

    "Get some rest, honey. And remember, no pushing too hard!" my mom called after me as I headed up the stairs, her voice still tinged with worry.

    "Yeah, and don¡¯t forget, you promised to teach me those moves!" my dad added, his tone light and encouraging.

    I smiled to myself, feeling the weight of their love and concern, a comforting counterbalance to the intense pressures of training. In that moment, I knew that no matter how tough the training got, coming home would always recharge and ready me for whatever lay ahead.

    Climbing the stairs to my room, I couldn''t shake the words my family had thrown my way. It''s weird how even a simple "we''re here for you" sticks with you, mixing with all the tough stuff from the week and what''s still to come. I was starting to get why Chronos sent me home for the weekend. It wasn''t just about chilling out from all the physical stuff, it was like he knew I needed a mental and emotional pick-me-up too. I¡¯ll be sure to thank him on Monday.

    Once I was in my room, I rolled out my mom¡¯s yoga mat that I had yoiked from her and Dad¡¯s room and settled down to meditate. Legs crossed just like Chronos showed me, I tried to sink into the calm. The room was quiet, enveloping me like a soft, cozy blanket, perfect for meditation.

    But as soon as I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, instead of peace, a montage of the week''s grueling training flashed through my mind. Visions of sprinting until my lungs screamed, Chronos shouting "Just one more rep, Rai! If you fail here I¡¯ll tell your mother you were slacking off!" and the relentless clank of weights felt almost comically torturous now. My body tensed reflexively, a smirk creeping up the side of my lips.

    So much for clearing my mind.

    Shaking off the memories, I reached for the pill Chronos gave me, hoping it would help deepen my meditation as promised. I swallowed it with a sip of water and prepared to follow his specific instructions for the meditation.

    Alright, now for real this time.

    Closing my eyes again, I tried to steady my breathing and followed Chronos''s guidance. "Visualize a cup sitting on a table in an empty room," he had said. I pictured a simple, clear glass cup positioned neatly on a wooden table in a stark, serene room. "With each breath you take, gather your energy, your aura. As you exhale, imagine filling that cup with your aura. See it as a color, a light, or even a feeling, however it appears to you."

    I focused on drawing in energy with each inhale, feeling it swirl within me, a mix of potential and power. Then, as I exhaled, I tried to channel that energy into the cup. At first, it was challenging. The visualization was clear, but the execution felt lacking. I could sense only a tiny trickle of something, a faint, shimmering vapor, barely visible, pooling at the bottom of the cup. It was as if my aura was hesitant, only tentatively responding to my efforts.

    Despite the initial struggle, I kept at it, breathing slowly and deeply, concentrating on the task. Each cycle of breath seemed to coax a little more from me, a little more of that elusive energy. The bottom of the cup was now coated with a thin layer of luminescent liquid, glowing softly in the imagined light of the empty room.

    Though I was far from filling the cup, the small amount of aura I managed to visualize was a start, a sign that with practice, I might be able to do much more. It was a humbling and motivating thought. The deeper connection I sought with my aura would take time and patience, much like every other aspect of my training.

    When I finally opened my eyes, a sense of tranquility washed over me, despite the small progress with the visualization. Expecting to see the room still aglow with the evening sun, I was surprised to find darkness instead. The gentle light had given way to night''s embrace, the room now illuminated only by the soft glow of street lamps filtering through the curtains.

    I glanced at the clock and was stunned to see it was nearly three hours later than when I had started. Time had stretched and bent in the silence of my meditation, hours passing like minutes. The realization made me pause, a mixture of awe and bewilderment stirring within me. I had been so absorbed in trying to fill that imagined cup with my aura, so focused on each breath and the faint glow of energy, that I had completely lost track of time.

    The challenge of filling the cup, the concentration it demanded, had drawn me deeper into meditation than I had ever gone before. Though I hadn¡¯t managed to fill the cup as I had hoped, the session had been a profound journey inward. The small shimmer of aura at the bottom of the cup was a tangible sign of my initial connection, and the time spent was a testament to my growing ability to focus and delve deep within.

    I felt recharged and realigned, ready to continue this path. The weekend wasn¡¯t just downtime; it was a crucial, strengthening chapter in my training, a reminder that mastering all this training isn¡¯t just about getting physically stronger or smarter; it¡¯s about the heart, too.

    As I prepared for bed, the image of the cup, with its faint luminescent liquid, lingered in my mind. It was a beginning, a starting point from which I could only grow. Tomorrow, I¡¯ll try again, pushing a little further, reaching a little deeper.

    Just you wait everyone. I¡¯ll make you all proud.

 Chapter 14 - TRAINING ARC RAHHHH

    The alarm on my phone cut through the silence of my room, but I was already wide awake, staring at the ceiling. It had been like this all weekend, my internal clock jolting me awake at 4 AM, no matter how hard I tried to will myself back to sleep. I sighed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, a bit annoyed that even on days off, my body refused to cooperate.

    Chronos, I will never forgive you, making me conditioned to NOT sleep in.

    Despite the early hour, I slipped out of bed with an energy that surprised me. The meditation sessions, though frustratingly stagnant at just barely filling the bottom of that metaphorical cup, had at least left me feeling more centered, more in tune with my thoughts. But it was clear I had hit a bottleneck in my progress, unable to push past that initial success.

    Now, this might sound a bit ironic, and maybe like I''ve lost my mind, but I decided to go for a jog. Listen, it''s 4 AM, no one else is awake, nothing''s happening. It¡¯s just me up and about at this ungodly hour. What else am I supposed to do? Play some video games? I tried that, really, but after thirty minutes, I just couldn¡¯t sit still anymore. My body has gotten so used to waking up early and moving right away that doing anything else feels off. I actually scared the daylights out of Mom when she caught me heading out for a run after I finished my run.

    Thanks to the Steel Forged Pill, my stamina seemed to have improved dramatically. I was able to keep a steady pace while running and was able to run around the majority of my neighborhood. Another thing I noticed was how I wasn¡¯t getting sore in my calves as easily. After that first run at Chronos¡¯ estate my calves were so messed up that my legs were trembling as I walked. If I try to lift myself on my toes my calves just give out. I just stood there thinking I was done for.

    Yesterday, Dad had joined me for a workout session. Despite the intensity, he''d kept pace easily, almost casually. I couldn¡¯t help but feel a twinge of jealousy at how effortlessly he managed, remembering just in time that he was an Ascendant, his body was built to handle much more than mine currently could. "Not bad, but you could make these tougher," he had commented with a smirk, sparking both admiration and a flicker of rivalry in me.

    To cope I just told myself that I would surpass him and make him grovel at how intense the workouts will be once I awaken. Then I immediately retracted the thought due to that realization that Chronos will most certainly amp up the intensity after I awaken.

    That filthy weeb will be the end of me I swear.

    I remembered one training session where Chronos was supposedly ''spotting'' me during bench presses. He was more absorbed in his manga than in my struggle with the weights. And then there was the time when he mocked me during a run, zipping past with a Naruto run, calling out, "On your left," as he lapped me not once, but three times.

    When Monday rolled around, Chronos was right, I had no trouble getting up early. At 3 AM I was already on my front porch sitting down waiting for Chronos to drive up. However I never saw him. I expected to hear the familiar rumble of his truck any minute now. Instead, to my surprise and growing dismay, I saw a figure jogging up the street towards my house. It was Chronos, and he wasn''t slowing down.

    As he approached, a smirk played across his face, the kind that told me I probably wasn¡¯t going to like what he was about to say. "Morning, Rai! Hope you''re warmed up because today, we¡¯re jogging to my place."

    My heart sank. The last thing I wanted was another excuse for more running, especially a jog to Chronos''s house, which was not exactly around the corner. But there was no arguing with that smirk.

    I can¡¯t escape it¡­ ha¡­  haha¡­ hahahaha¡­ ha¡­

    I got flashbacks of his persistent mocking during our cardio. His smug face as he said, ¡°On your left.¡±

    Despite the frustration, these memories brought a reluctant grin to my face. It was infuriating and somehow motivating at the same time. I¡¯m just glad I wore the athleisure wear he gave me. Why do I have it? Well I took some of them with me home. I mean, they are mine so why not take some home to wear.

    We chatted a bit about the weekend, and I shared some of the lighter moments I had with my family. He listened, nodding and throwing in a few of his typical sarcastic remarks. It felt like any regular workout, except this time, there was a comfortable silence that filled the gaps, a mutual understanding that had started to grow between us. With the sound of the morning birds and our shoes on the asphalt we made our way to his home.

    We slowed down as we approached his driveway, both catching our breath. Which he was obviously faking because there wasn¡¯t even a hint of fatigue in his posture.

    Then my training arc truly began. Chronos had me up and running before the city even woke up, hitting the pavement with a vengeance that my sleep-addled brain barely kept up with. "Building endurance, Rai," he''d say, almost cheerfully, as if running at dawn was a normal thing people did for fun. If there is someone who does this for fun, I will find you, and I will plant thumb tacks in your shoes.

    Breakfast was out of the question until I lost the weight, he called it ¡°Intermittent Fasting.¡± Once I lost the stomach, it would be time to bulk, until then, it¡¯s cutting. After running, it was straight to lifting weights that I swear were made of lead. Some days I felt like it was easier, others they weren¡¯t. Chronos the bastard was definitely tampering with these. Chronos watched, a permanent smirk on his face, making notes that probably said something like, "Make it heavier next week" or ¡°remove the 10 LBS label and replace it with a 45 LBS label.¡±

    By the second week, I thought I''d get a break. Nope. It was a larger focus on strength training, where every day introduced a new circle of gym hell. Chronos pushed me through sets of exercises that had me lifting, pulling, and pushing until I thought my arms would detach. "Strength through struggle," he¡¯d remind me, which sounded less inspiring when you were drenched in sweat and hoping the floor might swallow you whole. Oh and the famous Leg Day, ah, the legendary Leg Day was now officially on my fuck you list.

    THIS ASSHOLE HAD ME GO UNTIL FAILURE!

    The third week, I was praying for a miracle, or at least a minor injury that might earn me a day off. But what I got was flexibility training, yoga and stretches that made me realize just how stiff I was. "Flexibility saves you from breaking," Chronos lectured while demonstrating stretches that no human should be able to do without dislocating something. I put up with it so my crotch never has to feel that soreness again.

    Don¡¯t worry buddy, you¡¯ll be throwing kicks like it¡¯s nothing. Don¡¯t worry about pulling anything.

    By week four, I was a mix of sore and spry, running through obstacle courses that Chronos set up. They were a twisted mix of endurance, strength, and flexibility challenges that had me hopping, crawling, and occasionally eating dirt. "Integrating your skills," he''d call out, as if watching me flail was another box ticked off in his training manual.

    I ended June stronger, no doubt, but with a deep-seated fear of what July would bring. Each session was etched into my memory, not just by the physical imprint of effort, but by Chronos''s relentless drive to push me further. I remembered one particularly savage session, supposed to be a spotting session, which really meant Chronos reading a new manga volume while I pushed weights heavy enough to crush my spirit. "You''re doing great," he''d muttered without looking up, right before I almost dropped a barbell on myself. I want to say I will die one day from this, but there was an instance where I actually dropped it on myself, but he had caught it with ease right before it hit my neck. With his finger mind you.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    And let''s not forget the cardio sessions, where Chronos, ever the show-off, would zip past me doing a Naruto run, shouting "On your left" each time he lapped me. It was ridiculous, infuriating, and weirdly motivating. I swear, if I didn''t know any better, I''d think he was training me just to have a running joke, literally. There was one instance where he was running backwards and almost fell but did a backflip to save it. Okay that was kind of cool, but it still pissed me off.

    So, when Monday came, and Chronos jogged up to my house instead of driving, all I could do was laugh. Not because it was funny, but because it was either laugh or cry. "Morning, Rai! Hope you''re warmed up because today, we¡¯re jogging to my place." Of course, we were. Why not? It was just another Monday with Chronos, after all. And as we set off, I couldn''t help thinking about surpassing him one day, making him eat his words, and maybe even a little dirt of his own.

    As June''s foundational grind tapered off, July loomed with a promise of escalated intensity, but strictly within the realms of physical conditioning. Chronos decided that before any specialized training like martial arts could begin, my physical base needed to be unshakable. "Master your body before you try to master any skills," he declared as we launched into a month that felt more like a boot camp from a fitness fanatic''s most intense dreams. But, I can¡¯t lie, there''s a bit of a thrill after each day is done.

    July started with a brutal increase in strength training. Each day, Chronos had me moving from one weight station to another, each setup more daunting than the last. Squats, deadlifts, bench presses, each exercise stacked more plates than I thought I could handle. "Building strength isn''t just about lifting," Chronos would say as he added another weight, "it''s about lifting beyond what you think your limit is."

    I want to complain, I really do, but the results speak for themselves. When I first started I could barely do 3 sets of 5 with the barbell itself, it weighs about 45 pounds. Now, I am doing 5 sets of 10 with 95 pounds on the bar. I was squatting 70 and now I¡¯m doing 105. My arms have noticeable muscle definition and my legs are showing more muscle as well. Not to mention my chest and stomach. The belly I had has reduced in size by a considerable amount and my chest has increased a bit to where I can actually flex my pecs. I might have to go bra shopping soon.

    The afternoons were for circuit training, which mashed together bodyweight exercises with high-intensity interval training. The circuits were relentless, pushing my endurance while demanding muscular power. Each session left me sprawled on the gym floor, soaked in sweat, muscles trembling from the exertion.

    With my muscles screaming from the previous week''s labors, Chronos shifted focus slightly, emphasis on ''slightly.'' Now it was about endurance. Long-distance running became my daily dawn greeting. We ran routes that snaked through the city and its outskirts, each more challenging than the last. Hills became my nemesis; Chronos urged me up each slope with relentless enthusiasm, promising that the pain would pay dividends.

    After the runs, it was back to the gym for more endurance work, but this time with a twist: resistance training designed to maximize stamina. It wasn''t just about how fast or how strong but how long I could maintain intensity before fatigue set in. To help with recovery and enhance the next day¡¯s performance, I began taking the Steel Forged Pill nightly, its effects subtly reinforcing my stamina and muscle repair.

    Mid-July, Chronos introduced agility and speed drills that had me feeling like I was training for the Olympic trials. Ladder drills, cone sprints, and plyometric exercises were all designed to improve my reaction times and explosive power. "Speed is as crucial as strength," Chronos explained. "It¡¯s about how quickly you can move, and how suddenly you can stop."

    These exercises, often done in the sweltering midday heat, tested not just my physical capabilities but my mental resilience. The faster I moved, the more I sweated, and the harder it was to keep going, but keep going I did. Each evening, my meditation sessions, guided by the teachings Chronos had given me, focused on visualizing a cup slowly filling with my aura. Though progress was slow, the nightly practice deepened my connection to my inner strength and helped soothe the day¡¯s physical toll.

    As the month wound down, Chronos didn¡¯t let up but shifted gears toward recovery and conditioning. This week introduced more structured recovery protocols: yoga for flexibility, meditation for mental resilience, and even swimming for low-impact recovery. "Training hard is only half the battle," he noted. "Recovering harder is what makes all that training stick."

    We spent hours discussing and practicing the correct ways to cool down, stretch, and use foam rollers and massage tools to enhance muscle recovery. Nutrition also took center stage, with Chronos drilling into me the importance of protein, hydration, and electrolytes. I know most of this but it really did ingrave itself after each day. Not to mention the fact that I did notice its effects. Also I can confirm that water is my favorite beverage. Ice cold water is where drinks have peaked.

    By the end of July, my body had transformed. The relentless physical training under the summer sun had forged a version of myself that was leaner, tougher, and more enduring. Each bead of sweat, each aching muscle was a testament to the work put in. As the month closed, I felt prepared, not just for more physical challenges but for anything. August was on the horizon, and I was ready to push even further, secure in the knowledge that my physical foundation was as solid as rock.

    As the heat of July rolled over into August, the intensity of the training didn''t wane, in fact, it ramped up. Chronos seemed determined to squeeze every ounce of potential out of me before summer''s end. "Now that you''ve built your strength and stamina, it''s time to push your limits and see what you''re really capable of," he announced, a twinkle in his eye that was both exciting and terrifying.

    How does this mad man find a way to make it worse?

    The first week of August was all about testing my new capabilities. Chronos had me perform high-intensity drills that combined everything I had learned over the summer. I was running longer, lifting heavier, and moving faster than I ever thought possible. Each day ended with a new personal best, which Chronos meticulously recorded on his clipboard.

    I guess he did find a use for that clipboard.

    "You''re breaking barriers, Rai, but we''re not done yet," he''d say, pushing me to exceed my previous limits.

    The Steel Forged Pill became a crucial part of my routine, its effects now deeply integrated into my recovery process. Each night, as I took the pill, I felt a sense of reassurance that my body could handle whatever was thrown at it the next day.

    Chronos introduced even more complex agility courses this week, designed to challenge both my physical dexterity and my mental agility. These courses were a maze of sprints, hurdles, and strategic stops that mimicked real-world challenges. "Agility isn¡¯t just about moving your body; it¡¯s about thinking ahead," Chronos explained as he timed my runs, shouting adjustments and encouragement.

    One of the new drills involved Chronos throwing tennis balls at me from different angles while I maneuvered through an agility ladder. The unexpected pelting was his unorthodox method of enhancing my reflexes and ability to anticipate sudden changes. "Keep your eyes open, Rai. Life¡¯s going to throw a lot more at you than just tennis balls," he¡¯d jest, though each successful catch or dodge boosted my confidence and reaction time.

    The evening meditation sessions took on new depth. My focus was sharper, and slowly, the visualization of the cup began to show more significant results. The liquid aura I envisioned each night was rising, a slow but undeniable progression that mirrored my physical improvements.

    By the third week, Chronos had me integrate all aspects of my training into seamless, fluid motions. "Now we combine your strength, endurance, and agility into something cohesive," he stated. This meant complex routines that required me to switch gears between power lifts and sprint intervals or balance maneuvers followed by precision strikes into training pads.

    Each session was exhausting yet exhilarating. I began to feel not just like a trainee, but like a true athlete, someone capable of understanding and controlling his body in ways I had never imagined before. The meditation that capped off these days helped cement the day¡¯s lessons, my aura in the visualization growing stronger and more vibrant.

    The final week of August was Chronos¡¯s version of a grand finale. He set up a day-long decathlon that tested every physical and mental skill I had honed over the summer. From dawn till dusk, I was running, jumping, lifting, and strategizing. Each event was more challenging than the last, designed to push me to my absolute limits.

    Chronos watched closely, his usual smirk replaced by a look of intense focus. "This is more than training, Rai. This is about discovering who you are when you think you have nothing left," he said. And he was right. As the sun set on the last day of the decathlon, I was spent but not broken. I had pushed through barriers I didn¡¯t know I could, and I stood taller because of it.

    As August ended and the reality of returning to a normal routine loomed, I felt a mix of relief and nostalgia. The grueling days of summer training had transformed me. I was stronger, faster, and more resilient, not just physically but mentally and emotionally. The cup in my meditations was now noticeably fuller, a testament to the growth I had achieved.

    "Remember this feeling, Rai. You¡¯ve earned every drop of strength you¡¯ve gained," Chronos said as we reviewed the summer¡¯s progress. With a nod, I realized that while the summer training was ending, my journey was just beginning. I was ready for whatever came next, thanks to a summer I would never forget. One thing was certain though, on the last day of august, Chronos left a pair of sparring gloves in my room.

    Finally.

 Chapter 15 - Origin

    The anticipation was electric. Lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, I couldn''t calm the racing of my heart. The sparring gloves that Chronos had left in my room seemed to pulse with potential in the dim light of my room. Their presence was a clear affirmation, I was ready. Ready to learn how to fight, ready to step into a new realm of my training. The significance of this transition kept sleep at bay, as I replayed every grueling workout that had brought me to this point, each drop of sweat a step closer to today.

    When dawn cracked the sky open with soft morning light, I found myself already lacing up my running shoes. My body moved on autopilot, carrying me through the familiar paths that I had pounded into memory over the endless days of summer. The run did little to temper my excitement; if anything, it amplified my anticipation, each step drumming a rhythmic countdown to the meeting with Chronos.

    By the time I arrived at the training facility, the sun had fully claimed the sky, casting sharp shadows that sliced across the concrete. I pushed through the doors, my breath still evening out from the run, and found Chronos already there, waiting. His presence filled the space, an immovable force that seemed to gravitate everything toward him.

    "Morning, Rai," he greeted, his voice calm and a small smile playing at the edges of his lips. He leaned casually against the mats that had seen the sweat and struggle of the past months. His eyes flicked briefly to the gloves in my hand. "Did you see the gift I left for you?"

    I nodded, holding up the gloves. "I did. Thank you. I-I¡¯ve been looking forward to this." My voice was steadier than I felt, the gloves in my hand a tangible symbol of progress and the very thing I¡¯ve been working so hard for.

    The anticipation hanging in the air was almost tangible as Chronos greeted me, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his mouth. After acknowledging the sparring gloves he¡¯d left for me, a gesture that signified the beginning of a new chapter in my training, he beckoned me to follow him deeper into the facility.

    As we walked, the familiar sounds of the gym faded, replaced by the echoing quiet of a less-frequented part of the building. We approached a large garage door, one that I had passed countless times but never seen opened. It always piqued my curiosity, standing there like a barrier to some unspoken secret of the gym.

    "This way, Rai," Chronos said, his voice echoing slightly in the wide hallway. He reached for the handle of the garage door, throwing a glance over his shoulder to ensure I was paying attention. "I think it''s time you see what''s behind here."

    As we approached the seemingly mundane garage door in the gym, Chronos paused at a sleek control panel and pressed a button. With a quiet hum, the door began to ascend automatically, revealing an environment that contrasted sharply with the traditional training areas I was accustomed to.

    Inside lay a sparring room that felt like a blend of modern design and fantasy. A fantasy hero''s wet dream if you will. The space was expansive, with high ceilings and a layout that maximized every inch for combat training. Along one wall, there were sparring dolls equipped with advanced AI capable of mimicking a variety of combat styles, designed to provide a dynamic and unpredictable challenge. And I know for a damn fact that he did not spare a single expense because I¡¯ve seen the ads for these. Each one could cost a minimum of $5.2 million and that¡¯s IF you don¡¯t have the software package and wish to use it as an open source robot. He has six of them.

    In the center of the room, several platforms floated, each suspended by softly glowing crystals. These platforms moved subtly, requiring constant balance and focus from anyone on them, perfect for honing agility and tactical movement. These platforms are used in a lot of media, especially most of the parkour contests. You can program these to do just about anything as they have omni-directional movement. You just can¡¯t use them to fly around though because they have to be near the main power source which is the large crystal embedded in the ceiling. Also, very expensive. I was curious as to just how much they cost but going to their website only said, ¡°Call for a quote.¡±

    The floor itself was an engineering marvel, composed of sleek, dark tiles that could independently rise, tilt, or even sink. At intervals, certain tiles would activate, projecting non-lethal projectiles towards the center of the room, designed to simulate real-world combat scenarios where awareness and reaction speed were critical. Chronos noticed me looking at it and had a very subtle sinister gleam in his eyes.

    Oh you bitch, I know what you¡¯re planning.

    Chronos gestured broadly as he stepped into the room, his voice echoing slightly off the high-tech walls. "Welcome to the heart of our training, Rai. This room is where you''ll learn to blend the physical with the mental and spiritual aspects of combat. Each element here, from the sparring dolls to the floating platforms, is designed to enhance not just your fighting skills but also your situational awareness and adaptability."

    He pointed to the sparring dolls. "These will help you understand different fighting styles and how to counter them effectively. They''re programmed to adapt to your moves as well, so each session will be as challenging as a real fight. Which I¡¯m hoping you¡¯re going to take advantage of."

    Chronos then motioned to the floating platforms. "Balance and agility are crucial in combat. These platforms will teach you to maintain your focus and composure under dynamic conditions, much like you would need to in any real confrontation."

    Finally, he explained the floor''s functionality. "The tiles here are designed to keep you alert and responsive. They''ll simulate unexpected threats, helping you develop quick reflexes and the ability to anticipate and react to sudden changes in your environment."

    As we walked further into the room, Chronos instructed me to remove my shoes and socks before stepping onto the mat, emphasizing the practice¡¯s traditional respect. "In many martial arts, the dojo is a sacred space. Here, we honor that tradition by connecting directly with the ground beneath our feet, feeling every shift and texture."

    The cool, padded surface of the mat against my bare feet grounded me, merging the physical sensation with the weight of the opportunity before me. I absorbed the details of each training aid, understanding that they were not just tools, but extensions of the martial arts philosophy, a blend of discipline, technology, and ancient wisdom.

    Did I sound cool there? Yeah, I thought of that on the spot.

    "Everything in this room is interconnected," Chronos concluded, his gaze sweeping the modern dojo. "And as we train, you''ll learn how each element can be applied not only here but in the wider world. This is where you start truly understanding what it means to be a martial artist."

    As I eagerly stepped onto the padded floor of the sparring room, ready to dive into the physical aspects of martial arts training, Chronos held up a hand, signaling me to pause. The anticipation building within me wavered slightly, replaced by confusion as he began to speak, his voice serious and contemplative.

    "Before we begin, Rai, it''s important to understand that this isn''t just about learning to punch or kick. We need to explore the depths of your unique talent," Chronos explained, his eyes narrowing slightly as he surveyed the advanced equipment surrounding us. "Everything in this room, from the sparring dolls to the floating platforms, is off-limits for now."

    My excitement faltered, replaced by a surge of questions. "Off-limits? But you said you would teach me once I reached your standards," I protested, trying to mask my disappointment.

    Chronos nodded, understanding my frustration but firm in his approach. "Yes, and I will teach you, I did not lie about that. But your ability, Rai, to mimic and potentially steal your opponent''s techniques¡ªthat''s extraordinary. It might be more than just a skill; it could be what we call an ''Origin.''"

    I blinked, the term unfamiliar. "An Origin?" I echoed, my curiosity piqued despite the initial letdown.

    "Yes, an Origin. It''s a manifestation of Aura, typically unique to the individual. If your ability is indeed an Origin, it means it''s foundational, a core aspect of your Aura that shapes your interaction with the world and combat in a profound way," he clarified, his tone indicating the seriousness of such a designation.

    Chronos walked over to a control panel beside the sparring ring, his fingers hovering over the various buttons. "We need to understand exactly how your talent works. Does it have limitations? Can it adapt across different forms of combat? How does it affect your opponents? These are crucial questions, and the answers will determine how we proceed with your training."

    The notion that my ability could be something as significant as an Origin was both thrilling and daunting. It meant that my path in martial arts wasn''t just about physical mastery but also about deep self-exploration and understanding the intrinsic nature of my power.

    Chronos turned back to me, a determined look on his face. "We''ll start with controlled experiments. I want to observe your ability in action, understand its mechanics. We''ll use various simulations, record data, analyze outcomes. It''s going to be rigorous, but necessary."

    The shift from expected physical training to a more analytical, introspective exploration of my abilities wasn''t what I had anticipated for my first day in the sparring room. Yet, the weight of Chronos¡¯s words, the possibility that I could be wielding an Origin, reshaped my disappointment into a new form of eagerness.

    As I nodded in agreement, ready to embark on this unexpected journey of discovery, Chronos smiled slightly, pleased with my willingness to adapt. "Good. Let¡¯s begin with some basic tests. We''ll escalate as we learn more about your capabilities. Remember, Rai, this is about more than just training¡ªit¡¯s about understanding the essence of who you are as a fighter."

    With this understanding, Chronos''s approach to my training took on a new depth. "Your Origin is not just a skill; it''s a fundamental part of who you are," he explained, his voice carrying a mix of reverence and excitement. "It has awakened within you because of your unique experiences and your innate ability to adapt and excel in what you encounter. This makes your training not just about learning techniques but about embracing and mastering this core aspect of your being. Which can evidently lead to your revelation, allowing you to awaken."

    Oh yes, speak those sweet words to me.

    As we proceeded, Chronos planned a series of tests designed to probe the boundaries and capabilities of my Origin. He set up scenarios that varied greatly, from complex combat simulations with the sparring dolls to strategic challenges on the floating platforms, each designed to trigger and assess different facets of my adaptive abilities.

    "Today, we won''t just test your physical prowess; we''ll test the essence of your Origin. We want to see how it engages with new challenges, how quickly it adapts, and how it integrates what it learns into your existing skill set," Chronos detailed as he adjusted the settings on one of the training modules.

    Chronos adjusted the settings on one of the advanced sparring dolls while I waited, eager to put my newly honed physical abilities to the test. ¡°Alright, hit it,¡± he directed, nodding towards the doll positioned at the center of the room.

    Confused by his casual instruction, I hesitated. ¡°What?¡±

    "You know, throw a punch, have a tussle, a scrap, a bit of a- ah, fuck it, just punch it," Chronos said, his voice mixing frustration with a chuckle, breaking the usual seriousness of our training sessions.

    Energized by his command and the light-hearted moment, I squared up to the sparring doll, ready to demonstrate what I had learned. Or, stole from Tony I guess you could say. With a determined breath, I lunged forward and threw a punch, aiming directly for what would have been the doll''s midsection if it had been human. To my surprise, the doll was quicker than I anticipated. It not only blocked my punch but also countered swiftly, its mechanical arm extending to push against my chest with enough force to throw me off balance.

    Before I could recover, the doll executed a maneuver that used my momentum against me, effectively tossing me onto the mat. I landed with a thud, the air whooshing out of me as I hit the ground, my back meeting the cool padded surface with a slight sting of embarrassment.

    Huh?

    From the side of the ring, Chronos burst out laughing, a rare sound that filled the room. He pointed at me, still chuckling. "You¡¯ve got to watch out, Rai! These things have a lot more bite than some middle schoolers!"

    Lying on the mat, I couldn¡¯t help but join in the laughter, despite the flush of embarrassment warming my cheeks. The fall hadn¡¯t hurt physically thanks to the padding, but it was a stark reminder that learning to fight was going to involve more falls like this one. I pushed myself up, grinning back at Chronos. "Guess I asked for that, didn¡¯t I?" I said, shaking my head in amusement.

    Just give it a bit, I¡¯ll be taking this thing down soon.

    "Indeed, you did. But that¡¯s good! Every fall is a lesson, Rai. We want to learn from each one," Chronos replied, his laughter subsiding as he offered me a hand to help me up.

    I accepted his hand, pulling myself to my feet. The sparring doll had reset itself to its original position, standing eerily still now, as if waiting for the next round. "Let¡¯s try this again, shall we? And this time, keep your guard up and watch for the counter. Adapt quickly," Chronos instructed, his tone now serious again but with a lingering smile from our earlier exchange.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Nodding, I faced the doll once more, this time with a heightened awareness of its capabilities and a renewed focus. I was ready to learn, to adapt, and to hopefully stay on my feet a bit longer this time. As we resumed, the training took on a new level of intensity, each exchange teaching me more about timing, precision, and the importance of anticipating my opponent''s moves, even if that opponent was just a machine.

    The training session with the sparring doll quickly escalated into a series of swift, humbling defeats. Each attempt to land a punch or execute a maneuver ended with me being flipped onto the mat again. The doll, programmed to counter and defend with precision, seemed to anticipate and neutralize every move I made. Its mechanical efficiency was relentless, and no matter how quickly I tried to adapt or mimic its style, I found myself outmatched and on the ground once more.

    After several more unsuccessful attempts, Chronos called a halt, noticing the frustration building in my expression. I sat on the mat, my chest heaving with exertion and irritation. "I don''t get it," I said, wiping sweat from my brow. "Why can¡¯t I do anything against it? I thought I could mimic any move I see."

    As the session with the sparring doll wound down, Chronos observed my mounting frustration with a thoughtful expression. After several minutes of contemplation, his gaze sharpened, a clear sign he had devised a new approach. Without a word, he stepped into the ring, his demeanor changing from teacher to something more intense, almost threatening.

    I called out to him, ¡°Chronos?¡±

    He began to advance towards me slowly, his eyes locked onto mine, a silent challenge hanging between us. As he moved closer, a palpable sense of bloodlust radiated from him, a pressure so intense it seemed almost tangible. The atmosphere thickened, and I found myself rooted to the spot, unable to move, barely able to breathe.

    I-is he¡­ actually going to kill me?

    Then, in a swift motion, Chronos raised his fist, pulling back for a punch. The air around us charged, heavy with the threat of imminent contact. It was in that moment of heightened danger, as the punch came hurtling towards me, that something clicked within me. My senses sharpened, and suddenly, I was acutely aware of every detail of his form, his muscle tension, the angle of his arm, the slight shift in his weight.

    With barely a moment to spare, I dodged to the side, Chronos''s fist grazing past my face so closely I could feel the disturbance in the air. My heart pounded, adrenaline surged, but above it all, a grin spread across my face, ignited by the thrill.

    Chronos halted his motion and straightened up, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he noted my reaction. "I see, so you need to actually feel the threat at hand. Considering that massive grin on your face." His voice carried a mix of amusement and approval.

    The realization dawned on me that my ability to mimic wasn¡¯t just about observing; it was also about experiencing the intensity, the emotion, and the danger posed by my opponent. Chronos''s simulated attack had provoked a response that went beyond mere physical replication; it engaged a deeper, instinctual part of my Origin that thrived on real and present challenges.

    "You learn when you feel the stakes are real," Chronos continued, stepping back and allowing me to regain my full composure. "Your Origin isn¡¯t just mimicking technique; it¡¯s absorbing the essence of a true combat situation. It requires not just observation, but emotional and physical engagement. If I¡¯m not mistaken, this might evolve after you awaken."

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± I asked.

    Chronos and I sat on the edge of the training mat, our session winding down as he took a moment to delve deeper into the concept of Origins. He leaned back, his eyes thoughtful as he began to explain further.

    "Rai, when it comes to Origins, they have a deeply rooted correlation to you, but once you awaken, all of the ¡®normal¡¯ things are thrown out the window," he started, his voice steady and clear. "Take, for example, a friend of mine. Before he awakened, his Origin revolved around his balance, he was the reigning champion in gymnastics for three years straight. His balance was impeccable."

    He paused, a slight smile curling at the edges of his mouth. "But after he awakened, his balance was not only perfect; he could manipulate his center of gravity to perform feats that defied physics. He could walk on walls as if they were floors, and hang from ceilings as if they were merely another platform to stand on."

    Chronos shifted slightly, his demeanor indicating the importance of what he was about to say. "His understanding of balance transcended physical limits; it reshaped how he perceived and interacted with the world. That''s what an Origin can do after you awaken, it transforms a trait into something supernatural, integrated deeply with the individual¡¯s essence."

    He looked directly at me, ensuring I grasped the gravity of his words. "There¡¯s also someone I know whose Origin is linked to empathy. She was a counselor, renowned for her ability to connect deeply with people. After her awakening, her empathic abilities became so profound that she could literally feel others'' emotions as if they were her own. It didn''t just enhance her counseling skills; it changed her entire way of interacting with people, giving her almost psychic insights into their needs and feelings."

    Chronos stood up, pacing a little as he continued, "These examples show how Origins amplify and extend your capabilities in incredible ways. For someone like you, with the ability to mimic and master observed techniques, the potential is enormous. Your Origin could allow you to understand, anticipate, and counter any physical or strategic challenge you encounter. This is just an assumption of course so we could only guess."

    He stopped and faced me again, his expression serious. "It¡¯s not just about enhancing what you can do physically. Awakening your Origin often brings a deeper self-insight and a new perspective on your place in the world. It¡¯s transformative, aligning your deepest traits with every action and interaction."

    As he finished, I absorbed his words, the realization of my potential slowly dawning on me. It was clear to me now that my Origin wasn¡¯t a part of my training; it was a core part of my identity, shaping not only how I fought but also how I viewed the world and engaged with others. It was a profound, almost overwhelming thought, but with Chronos¡¯s guidance, I felt that so many more doors just opened for me.

    It makes sense now. When I was fighting Tony and his goons I wasn¡¯t able to fight back right away. I was absorbing all of the information as they were pummeling me, which in that instance, there were stakes regarding my safety.

    Chronos nodded thoughtfully as he saw understanding dawn in my eyes. He stepped back onto the mat, gesturing for me to follow. "Enough talk for now," he said with a slight grin. "Let''s put theory into practice. Show me that punch now, Rai. The one you just took from me."

    Okay, now we¡¯re talking.

    I stood up, energized by our discussion. As I faced Chronos, ready to replicate the punch, I closed my eyes for a moment to visualize not just the action, but the deeper mechanics behind it. I didn¡¯t want to just throw a punch, I wanted to throw his punch. I concentrated, envisioning Chronos''s form as he threw the punch, the flow of his muscles, the deliberate shift of his weight, and the intense energy channeled through his arm.

    Taking a deep breath, I raised my fist, attempting to mirror not only the physical motion but also the power and precision that Chronos had demonstrated. I could feel the tension in my muscles, trying to emulate the same flow, how his shoulders had rolled, how his torso had turned, driving the force outward from his core to his fist.

    With a surge of determination, I thrust my arm forward. I tried to channel everything I observed, the power, the speed, and especially the overwhelming pressure that Chronos''s punch had contained. The air around my arm seemed to compress, echoing a faint whistling as my fist cut through it.

    The moment my punch completed its arc, a sharp pain shot through my arm. I winced, clutching it instinctively. The intensity I had attempted to replicate was too much; the force I exerted was beyond what my physical condition could currently handle. As I grimaced, it dawned on me, there seem to be limits.

    ¡°AGH!¡± I yelped.

    As I recoiled from the punch, clutching my aching arm, Chronos swiftly crossed the distance between us. His expression was serious but not without empathy as he took my arm gently, examining it to ensure no serious injury had occurred.

    "Rai, there¡¯s a critical component to the martial arts techniques I use, and it''s something you haven''t yet mastered, which is Aura reinforcement," Chronos explained as he checked the flexibility and response of my arm. "Without the awakening of your Aura, your body isn''t reinforced against the strain that these high-level techniques impose."

    He helped me lower my arm slowly, ensuring I wasn''t in too much pain. "When fully awakened, a martial artist can channel their Aura to not only enhance their physical abilities but also to protect and strengthen their body during combat. It¡¯s like armoring yourself from within. Without this, trying to replicate such powerful techniques can lead to injury, as you¡¯ve just experienced."

    Chronos stepped back, giving me space, his gaze thoughtful. "Your Origin is extraordinary, Rai, and it gives you a unique edge. But it also places you at risk if you try to exceed the current limits of your physical capabilities without the necessary Aura protection. Otherwise if you try to mimic every technique you encounter you¡¯ll just break down your body every time."

    After Chronos finished explaining, I couldn''t help but feel skeptical. It just didn''t sit right, a punch was a punch, right? "You''re fucking with me right? It was just a punch. How could it be categorized as a high level technique?" I retorted, unable to mask the disbelief in my voice.

    Chronos cracked a half-smile, clearly amused by my reaction. "A high-level technique, indeed," he responded with a slight chuckle. "But if you think it''s so simple, why don¡¯t you show me a ''regular ass punch'' then? Let¡¯s see how that goes for you."

    His challenge hung between us, edged with a playful taunt that spurred me on. I scoffed, shaking my head as I stepped back into a basic stance, a rough imitation of what I''d seen boxers do in movies and on TV. I threw the punch, a straightforward, unembellished strike that felt jarringly plain in its execution.

    The moment my fist sailed through the air and snapped back to my side, I paused, the difference striking me immediately. It felt off, almost embarrassingly weak compared to the punch I had attempted to mimic from Chronos. The realization that my skepticism might have been premature started to sink in.

    From beside the mat, Chronos couldn¡¯t hold back a laugh. He walked over, giving me a light poke in the shoulder. "Ahh, see what did I tell you. Acting like you know what you¡¯re talking about, fucking amateur," he teased, the grin on his face broadening.

    I couldn''t help but grin back, albeit grudgingly, the lesson hitting home more effectively than any lecture could. "Alright, alright, you made your point," I conceded, shaking my head in a mix of annoyance and newfound respect for the complexities of martial arts and Aura use.

    Chronos¡¯s demeanor shifted slightly, becoming more serious. "It¡¯s all in good fun, Rai, but remember, this is an important part of your training. Aura isn¡¯t just about adding strength; it¡¯s about transforming your entire approach to combat. Without it, you¡¯re only scratching the surface of what you can really do. Don¡¯t worry though, I don¡¯t plan on neglecting it entirely. Once you awaken we are going to have plenty of training regarding it before I let you even step foot into an academy."

    ¡°Wait, if you¡¯re planning on training me, what would be the point of the academy then?¡± I questioned.

    Chronos nodded, appreciating the question. "The academy isn''t just about personal training or mastering techniques," he explained, folding his arms as he leaned back slightly. "It¡¯s about immersion in a community of fighters, where you can test your skills against others, learn diverse combat styles, and understand the broader aspects of martial arts and Aura application. It¡¯s one thing to train one-on-one with me; it''s another to face different opponents with different strengths and Origins."

    He paused, ensuring his point was clear. "My role is to prepare you, to make sure that when you walk into that academy, you''re not just another student. You''ll be ready to stand out, to make the most of every lesson, every spar, and every challenge. Training with me will give you a foundation that few others will have."

    Chronos''s expression then shifted to one of mock grandeur, his voice taking on a theatrical tone as he spread his arms wide. "As your teacher, I refuse to send forth a mere participant into the ranks of the academy. No, no, I aim to forge a champion, a burning star whose brilliance outshines the rest! I have no intention of having a student of mine be just another face in the crowd. You, Rai, are meant to dazzle them, to be that blazing beacon that everyone, friend and foe alike, cannot help but gaze upon in awe."

    Playing along, I pressed my fists together and bowed at the waist, feigning a look of noble determination. "Then I shall not let you down, Guy sensei! I will be the star that lights up the academy, blazing a trail of glory across the sky!" I declared, my tone laced with mock solemnity to match his.

    Chronos chuckled at my response, the humor and camaraderie easing the intensity of the training''s seriousness. "That¡¯s the spirit! With that attitude, I have no doubt you¡¯ll make quite the impression," he said, still smiling.

    He turned around to walk towards the control panel for the dolls then paused, "Ah, Guy sensei, huh?" Chronos mused, a twinkle of mischief appearing in his eyes. "You know, you just gave me a brilliant idea." His smile widened, transforming into an almost evil glint as he contemplated the new twist he planned to introduce to my training regimen.

    The lighthearted atmosphere briefly tensed as I recognized that look in his eyes¡ªone that usually preceded a challenging new twist in our sessions. "What kind of idea?" I asked, half-wary, half-curious, already bracing myself for his response.

    Wait, no¡­ he wouldn¡¯t.

    Chronos darted off to a corner of the room, where a large, cluttered closet full of various pieces of equipment stood slightly ajar. He rummaged through the contents with a purposeful intensity, moving aside items with a clatter and clink that echoed through the training space. Every now and then, he''d pull something out, inspect it briefly, and either set it aside with a nod or toss it back with a muttered comment.

    After a few moments of searching, he emerged holding the sleek metallic bracelets, their intricate design catching the light as he walked back towards me. "Found them," he announced, a hint of triumph in his voice.

    He handed me the bracelets, and I took them, intrigued by the jewels embedded in the center and the delicate patterns etched into the metal. I hesitated but I slid them onto my wrists, the jewels caught the faintest glimmer of light, shimmering subtly. The bracelets then began their astonishing transformation: the patterns seemed to come alive, and the metal adjusted itself to fit my wrists perfectly, tightening just enough to be secure without constricting.

    These look just like binds.

    Once adjusted, the jewel at the center emitted a faint glow, signaling its activation. I flicked my wrist a few times, feeling the unusual sensation of the metal conforming to my movement, slightly unnerved by the technology but also fascinated by its capabilities.

    "These are designed to adapt to your physical and kinetic needs," Chronos explained as he pulled out a small device, turning a knob that immediately increased the gravitational pull on the bracelets. "They''ll provide resistance based on the intensity of your training, dynamically adjusting to push your limits."

    As the weight of the bracelets intensified, I felt my knees buckle slightly under the sudden increase. Each movement became a deliberate struggle, forcing me to engage muscles I seldom used to such an extent.

    "We''ll start with basic movements to get you accustomed to them," Chronos said, watching me closely as I adjusted to the weight. "It¡¯s crucial to build your tolerance gradually. This will prepare you not just physically but mentally for the more demanding aspects of your training."

    Something I noticed is that the bracelets themselves don¡¯t weigh heavy, it¡¯s actually my entire body that weighs so much. However it doesn¡¯t seem to affect my surroundings. I¡¯m not leaving a deeper impression on the mat nor are my steps louder. Okay, this is kind of cool, I can''t deny that.

    Chronos turned to me and pointed at the dolls, "Alright Rai, now get started."

    Huh?

 Chapter 16 - Raiden Alaric, The Undefeated Beater of Children

    Chronos just threw a curve ball at me while I was walking around trying to figure out just how much I was impacted. I had only just started to get a handle on walking, now he wanted me to fight?

    Chronos, did you not see my ass get handed to me?

    With a smirk, Chronos gestured again to the dolls. "We¡¯ll begin with the basics, proper form in punching, kicking, and defending. These fundamentals are the cornerstone of all martial arts. And with the Anchors, you''ll learn not just the motions but how to execute them with significant resistance."

    Ah, so these bracelets are called Anchors¡­ wait no focus.

    As we approached the first doll, Chronos demonstrated a straightforward punch, his arm slicing through the air with practiced ease. "Start simple," he instructed. "Focus on your form, the alignment of your fist, wrist, elbow, shoulder, all the way down to your stance. You have a knack for adapting so I think you¡¯ll be fine for the time being. I just need to drill you with the basics before we do anything remotely close to real sparring."

    I mimicked his stance, throwing a punch towards the doll. The weight of the Anchors turned my usual quick jab into a slow, deliberate motion. It was frustrating to say the least, I don¡¯t know why he¡¯s having me do this already when I don¡¯t even understand the fundamentals. I get that he¡¯s an Ascendant and knows what he¡¯s talking about but I¡¯m starting to feel like his standards are a little too high at the moment. I barely just reached the standards for physique.

    "Not bad, but you¡¯re still too stiff," Chronos commented, adjusting my arm slightly. "Relax your shoulders. Every unnecessary bit of tension is going to wear you out faster, especially with those on. If that¡¯s not enough just use the idea of you being ridiculously fast as your motivation."

    Punch by punch, kick by kick, Chronos guided me through the exercises, correcting my posture, enhancing my technique, and always reminding me to be mindful of the added resistance. After roughly fifteen minutes I was starting to get the hang of it and fell into a rhythm. Enough to the point where I zoned out and Chronos was no longer giving me any pointers.

    I essentially had tunnel vision while repeating the same combo. Left jab, right cross, shin kick, and a body upper cut.

    Eight.

    Nine.

    Ten.

    Eleven.

    Twelve.

    In my head I kept counting after hitting each combo perfectly. My body began to move smoothly with every motion. I stopped counting after reaching thirty.

    Then Chronos clapped his hands together, stopping me from throwing a right hook. He gave me a nod of approval and walked over to the control panel. He made a few adjustments then winked at me. After he winked the doll came to life and got into a basic fighting stance.

    As I stopped counting and allowed the seamless flow of punches and kicks to carry me, Chronos watched attentively until I reached the end of my repetitive sequence. He clapped his hands sharply, breaking me out of my focused state with a broad grin. ¡°Nice Rai! You¡¯re getting the hang of it, but let¡¯s not turn you into a one-trick pony,¡± he joked as he walked over to the control panel of the training doll.

    ¡°Knowing combos are great and all, but they mean nothing if you can¡¯t find an opening to use said combo,¡± Chronos mused. He fiddled with the settings on the panel, programming the doll.

    I wiped the sweat from my forehead, chuckling. ¡°No shit Sherlock, so does this mean I can take off the Anchors now,¡± I replied. I watched with apprehension as the doll whirred to life, its limbs moving with mechanical precision.

    Chronos turned back to me with a smirk. ¡°Take them off? Of course not, matter of fact, you aren¡¯t taking those off until I say so. The more you ask, the longer I will need to contemplate if they should be taken off or not.¡± He gave me a playful wink and thumbs up as if this whole operation was my idea.

    Hahaha you piece of sh-

    He clapped his hands and pointed toward the doll, ¡°Enough stalling, let''s get started.¡±

    Positioning myself in front of the now active doll, I watched as it raised its arms in a basic defensive posture. Chronos shouted from the control panel, ¡°Alright, start with the same combo. Let¡¯s see if you can land it when it¡¯s not just air you¡¯re hitting.¡±

    Taking a deep breath, I launched into the sequence: left jab, right cross, shin kick, followed by a body uppercut. The doll reacted, blocking the jab and the cross with smooth, precise movements. It felt strangely exhilarating to see the immediate feedback of my attacks being parried.

    Each blocked move only heightened my determination, turning what started as a routine drill into a personal challenge. With the weight of the Anchors dragging at every limb, my movements were sluggish at first, forcing me to exert more effort than I expected. But instead of discouraging me, the resistance sharpened my focus.

    Chronos¡¯s voice echoed from the control panel, his tone a mix of instructor and cheerleader. "Keep at it, Rai! Notice the patterns, find the gaps. It''s not just about hitting; it''s about hitting smart. Don¡¯t be afraid to mix it up either, I¡¯m not raising a ¡®by the books bitch¡¯ so see what you can do."

    The doll resumed its defensive posture, seemingly unbothered by my increasing aggression. As I repeated the sequence, I began to see patterns in the doll''s movements, tiny delays in its reactions, predictable patterns in its defense. It was like decoding a puzzle, each parried strike revealing a clue on how to break its guard.

    My breathing grew heavy, yet my mind raced with excitement. The Anchors, once a cumbersome burden, now seemed like a vital part of the game. Each weighty movement forced me to be more deliberate, to plan each strike not only with power but with precision.

    Left jab, then feint the cross, go for the shin, no, double back, uppercut now!

    The doll, programmed for basic defense, couldn''t adapt quickly to my changing tactics. I found a rhythm, exploiting the slight lag after it blocked my shin kick to land a solid uppercut. The impact felt satisfying, a tangible hit that sent a small shock through the arm of the doll.

    "Yes! That''s it! Find the holes in its defense!" Chronos shouted from across the room, his voice laced with excitement. His enthusiasm fueled my own, transforming the drill into a thrilling challenge.

    I pushed harder, mixing feints with rapid strikes, learning to move with the weight as if it were a part of me. Each successful hit built my confidence, and soon I was moving more fluidly, the Anchors no longer a hindrance but a tool that forced me to perfect my technique.

    Chronos nodded approvingly, adjusting the settings on the control panel to slightly increase the doll''s response time. "Don''t let up, Rai. Keep at it. You''re training not just your body, but your mind. Adapt and overcome."

    The session stretched on, my initial exhaustion overtaken by a rush of adrenaline. I was more than just practicing moves; I was learning to dominate, to control the fight. The doll, with its predictable patterns, became less of an opponent and more of a stepping stone, something to sharpen my skills against.

    Chronos watched my burgeoning confidence with a mix of pride and calculation. As I landed another successful combo on the doll, he turned back to the control panel, his fingers hovering over a new set of commands. "Time to raise the stakes," he murmured, almost to himself, and pressed a button.

    ¡°Wha-,¡± Instantly, the dynamic of the drill shifted. The doll, previously only defensive, adopted a more aggressive stance. Before I could react, it launched a counterattack, its arm extending with surprising speed to deliver a firm push against my chest.

    Caught off guard, I stumbled backward, unprepared for the sudden change in the doll''s behavior. It advanced, following up with a series of programmed strikes, quick, precise jabs that I struggled to block. Each hit was a shock, forcing me to retreat and regroup.

    "Chronos, what the-" I gasped, trying to fend off the relentless doll. My previous rhythm was shattered; the added weight of the Anchors now felt like a disadvantage as I struggled to keep up with the doll¡¯s enhanced aggression.

    "Adapt, Rai! Fight back!" Chronos called out, his voice a mix of encouragement and challenge. He stood by the control panel, observing intently but making no move to intervene.

    The doll''s movements were methodical and unyielding, each block and counter a learning program in action, designed to exploit my hesitations and mistakes. I took a hit to the shoulder, then another to the midsection, the impacts forceful but non-damaging, designed to teach rather than injure.

    Regaining my footing, I tried to remember Chronos¡¯s earlier lessons about being fluid, about adapting. I shook off the initial shock and focused, trying to predict the doll''s patterns. It was a tough round, each exchange sharp and fast, pushing me to the edge of my capabilities.

    As the doll continued its assault, my initial irritation at being caught off guard transformed into an intense frustration with myself. Each block, each evasive maneuver from the doll felt like a direct challenge, pushing me to my limits. The Anchors weighed heavily on my limbs, compounding my struggle, making each movement a battle against both the doll and the gravity that tethered me.

    Chronos, observing the escalating intensity, subtly adjusted the controls, amping up the pressure further. The doll''s attacks became faster, more precise, mimicking the relentless advance of a skilled opponent. I took a hit, then another, the strikes clean and controlled, yet forceful enough to leave me reeling.

    As the doll intensified its assault, my initial frustration morphed into something else, an unfamiliar thrill that prickled at the edge of my consciousness, difficult to identify amid the flurry of motion and impact. With every strike I blocked or failed to evade, a sharp clarity began to cut through the haze of irritation and pain. I wasn''t just reacting anymore; something deeper was stirring within me, a sensation that tingled along my nerves, electric and raw.

    The doll¡¯s mechanical precision, which had initially overwhelmed me, now spurred me on. As the attacks came faster, my response shifted from defensive to analytical. Each movement of the doll, every defensive posture it adopted, I scrutinized with an intensity that bordered on obsession.

    Chronos, noticing the change in my demeanor, remained silent, allowing the experience to unfold. The more I engaged, the more the sensation clarified into pure, unadulterated excitement. This wasn''t just another training bout, it was a challenge that called to the very core of my being, igniting a fierce joy that I had never associated with combat.

    As this realization dawned, time seemed to dilate around me. The doll''s movements, once so swift and overwhelming, now appeared almost languid, as if I were watching them through a thick lens of water. My body moved with a responsiveness that surprised even me, each counter and strike executed with a precision that felt almost preternatural.

    It was as if a switch had flipped. Every cell in my body was attuned to the moment, each sense sharpened not by fear or desperation, but by exhilaration. With this new-found excitement fueling me, I danced around the doll''s attacks, finding rhythm in what had been chaos. I started to anticipate, to predict, not merely react. Each successful block and each evasive maneuver built my confidence and honed my focus to a razor''s edge.

    I pushed further, my mind racing ahead of the actions, planning moves and counters with a strategic acumen I hadn¡¯t known I possessed. The doll, sophisticated as it was, couldn¡¯t match the human intuition and adaptability that surged through me. It became less a trainer and more a catalyst, pushing me towards a deeper understanding of its technique.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    As the session persisted and my understanding deepened, each engagement with the doll became a calculated exchange. It started when I dodged a rapid jab, stepping aside with a swiftness that surprised even me. The movement was fluid, instinctual, and it set the tone for the remainder of the fight.

    I circled the doll, my eyes locked on its mechanical limbs. Each time it initiated a strike, I found myself moving in response almost before the movement was fully underway. My body responded as if on autopilot, each dodge and block not just reactive but anticipatory.

    Chronos, from his position at the control panel, adjusted the intensity of the doll''s attacks. It threw a combination, a swift jab followed by a hook and then a low sweep. I managed to block the jab, felt the whoosh of the hook near my ear as I ducked under it, and then jumped over the sweep. Each movement was sharp, each breath I took timed with precision.

    "Use the environment," Chronos called out. His voice was eager and excited. "Control the space."

    Taking his advice to heart, I maneuvered the doll towards one corner of the mat, limiting its ability to move freely. This tactical positioning gave me a slight edge, allowing me to dictate the pace of the encounter. When the doll attempted to push forward, I used its momentum against it, sidestepping and then pushing it slightly off balance with a well-placed palm against its torso.

    The physical exertion was intense, compounded by the relentless pull of the Anchors. Each movement required double the effort, yet the thrill of the challenge kept fatigue at bay. My muscles screamed, but my mind was clear, focused singularly on the unfolding combat.

    The doll adapted, its programming sophisticated enough to vary its tactics. It attempted a feint, one arm darting forward in a jab while the other prepared a powerful cross. Recognizing the ruse, I parried the jab and spun away from the cross, finding myself behind it momentarily. Seizing the opportunity, I delivered a controlled but firm kick to the back of its knee joint. The impact was satisfying, calculated and effective.

    "Yes! Keep up the pressure!" Chronos encouraged. His voice was a mix of coach and spectator, clearly enjoying the display of learned skills being so effectively applied.

    I pressed on, weaving around the doll''s increasingly desperate strikes. My attacks became more aggressive, jabs, hooks, and an occasional experimental uppercut, testing my range and the doll¡¯s defenses. Each contact with the doll sent a jolt of adrenaline surging through me, reinforcing the thrill of the fight.

    The doll, for all its programming, couldn''t match my human adaptability. I exploited small delays in its reaction time, each successful strike fueling my confidence. Finally, as I landed a particularly sharp uppercut to the doll¡¯s head, a move I had only observed and never executed with such precision before, Chronos hit the kill switch, and the doll powered down, its arms lowering slowly.

    Breathing heavily, I fall back onto my rear, the immediate rush of the fight ebbing away, leaving a glow of accomplishment. Chronos approached, clapping me on the shoulder with a grin.

    ¡°That¡¯s how you do it, Rai. This is what I was wanting to see.¡±

    In heavy gasps I answered, ¡°Oh¡­ yeah? Well¡­ I¡­ I think¡­ I¡­¡± Nevermind I can¡¯t answer. My lungs were contracting as if they were on the verge of collapsing.

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you were going at it for nearly an hour. It¡¯s not often I see unawakened last this long.¡± Chronos¡¯ eyes widened and he shook his head, ¡°Pause. I should have worded that better.¡±

    Oh? He knows modern slag and when to use it? Heh, that surprises me.

    I spat out a laugh, ¡°Ha¡­ at least¡­ I wasn''t¡­ the¡­ ah nevermind.¡± I just gave up on speaking. I just lay there as Chronos continued to go over the bout I had with the doll.

    He was impressed to say the least. Then he crushed my hopes in a single sentence, ¡°This doll in particular is primarily used for youth martial arts training so for your first time it went well.¡±

    Huh?

    The expression on my face must have spoken for me because Chronos followed up with, ¡°Did I not mention that?¡±

    ¡°No¡­ no you didn''t,¡± I panted, sitting up now, a mix of indignation and humor lacing my tone. ¡°I''m starting¡­ to question¡­ the good memory you gain as you advance, or¡­ agh¡­ if you''re just¡­ purposefully leaving out this information.¡±

    He just shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. ¡°Who knows? Hey, now you know you can successfully beat a child with ease.¡± He lifted a hand, palm forward as if bestowing a dubious honor upon me. ¡°Raiden Alaric, The Undefeated Beater of Children.¡±

    Rolling my eyes, I managed to retort between gasps, ¡°Oh, great¡­ There''s a title I was really aiming for¡­ Next, you''ll be having me spar with toddlers to truly¡­ test my skills¡­ agh¡­ stopmakingmetalk.''¡±

    Chronos¡¯s laughter echoed around the room, his enjoyment of the situation evident. ¡°That¡¯s a great idea. But really, it¡¯s about mastering control and precision, not the opponent. You did well, and that¡¯s what counts.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah¡­ ¡®everythings a lesson¡¯... why do you go into teacher mode at random times? I¡¯m starting¡­ to question if you¡¯re googling all of your motivational critiques,¡± I quipped, finally regaining enough breath to stand. ¡°So since I¡¯m only at the level of a drunk dad wondering why his beer retriever isn¡¯t working. When do we get to spar?¡±

    ¡°Me, you, spar?,¡± Chronos replied with a smile, still amused. ¡°You¡¯re a funny guy Rai.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m the funniest guy I know, but what are you getting at?¡±

    Waving me off as if it wasn¡¯t a topic of debate he said, ¡°You can¡¯t spar me, at best I could show you some moves, but forget sparing me when you haven¡¯t awakened yet.¡±

    ¡°Elaborate.¡±

    ¡°Just as I said, you aren¡¯t awakened. Even when you awaken I can¡¯t spar you until you¡¯re at least given the Nexus title.¡±

    I beckoned him to continue, ¡°Listen Rai, remember that punch?¡±

    I nodded, ¡°Yes.¡±

    Chronos paused, his expression shifting to a more serious tone, though a playful glint remained in his eyes. ¡°That punch I showed you, the force behind it, the control, the Aura... even if I placed enough binds to cover my limbs, if that punch landed it would kill you or you¡¯d lose a limb.¡±

    I nodded, recalling the overwhelming power of that demonstration punch, the air itself seeming to tremble in its wake. Although I was still skeptical.

    "Follow me," he said, a mischievous note in his voice as he led the way to a different part of the training facility. I guess he noticed my skepticism and wanted to show me what he meant.

    We stopped in front of a heavy-duty punching bag, one that looked like it had seen better days but was still hanging tough from a reinforced beam. Next to it, on a small table, lay four binds, a sleek, metal cuff embedded with a gleaming jewel. However these were different, the jewel was a rich green instead of a pale green, as well as the etching having a different design that was more complex.

    Chronos picked up each bind and slid it onto his wrist. The intricate patterns etched into the metal glowed faintly, and the jewel shimmered as it settled into place. He flexed his wrist, and the binds seemed to tighten, adjusting to his arm with precision. "These binds," he explained, "limit the flow of my aura, containing it so I don''t accidentally cause too much destruction. Which I¡¯m sure you know, but the way they work is by constantly sucking my aura out of me and using it as fuel to limit my usage. Placing four on me will give me just enough wiggle room to get the point across as to me not using aura. So to further get my point across¡­"

    He turned a small dial on the side of each bind, and the glow from the jewel intensified. Stepping back, he focused for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he took a deep breath. Then, with a fluid, explosive motion, he launched a punch at the punching bag.

    The impact was like a gunshot, loud and sharp. The bag shuddered violently under the force, then, as if in slow motion, the seams burst outward, sending stuffing flying as the bag tore open from top to bottom. The remnants of the bag swung limply on the chain, a testament to the controlled yet devastating power Chronos had unleashed.

    Holy shit¡­

    I stared, wide-eyed, not just at the demolished punching bag but at the casual ease with which Chronos had unleashed such force. "That," he said, turning back to me with a wry smile, "is why we don''t spar just yet. My control is good, almost perfect, but with power like that, it''s better to be cautious. While I know I could hold back enough to not hurt you too badly, I¡¯d rather not take the chance since just my base strength alone is too much."

    ¡°Even if I wear every limiter available,¡± Chronos continued, ¡°just a glancing blow could be too much for someone who hasn¡¯t undergone the necessary evolution. Your body, your Aura, they aren¡¯t ready to handle that level of force. Not yet.¡±

    I pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration, ¡°So you¡¯re telling me I¡¯m too weak and fragile to spar with you?¡±

    ¡°Fragile isn¡¯t the word I¡¯d use,¡± Chronos chuckled. ¡°Let¡¯s say, unrefined. Think of it like this: trying to spar with me now would be like entering a high-speed race with a bike.¡±

    I crossed my arms, amused yet intrigued by the analogy. ¡°And I suppose you¡¯re the high-performance sports car in this scenario?¡±

    ¡°Exactly,¡± Chronos grinned, clearly enjoying the analogy. ¡°And you¡¯re a smart bike, but still, a bike. Now, once you advance past the Nexus, reach the Red rank, then we¡¯ll talk about sparring. At that level, your body and Aura will have evolved enough to at least withstand the basics of what I can throw at you.¡±

    ¡°So, what would happen if you didn¡¯t have any binds on,¡± I asked.

    He gave me a confident smirk, ¡°Then everything in front of my fist within a three mile radius would be destroyed from the shockwave alone.¡±

    I paled at that, then I realized why his estate was so massive.

    ¡°I¡¯m a patient guy, I can wait a few¡­ decades,¡± I said, my voice cracking as I speak.

    Hey, I can admit when I''m wrong.

    Chronos gave me a smirk, ¡°That massive grin on your face is telling me you aren''t as patient as you claim.¡±

    It was then I noticed that my face was stretched into a wide, exhilarated grin, the adrenaline of understanding the scale of power I was aspiring to clearly etched across my features. It was a realization that hit with the force of a revelation, I was, in fact, thrilled by the prospect of eventually facing such immense power.

    "Questioning your sanity yet?" Chronos teased, noting the wild excitement in my eyes.

    "Yeah, maybe a little," I admitted, laughing despite the seriousness of our conversation. "It''s kind of insane, isn''t it? Being excited about getting to a point where I can take a hit that could potentially level a small town."

    Chronos''s laughter joined mine, a rich sound that filled the training area. "It''s not insanity; it''s passion. It''s what drives all Ascendants. You''re starting to feel the weight of what you can become, and it¡¯s exhilarating, isn''t it?"

    "It is," I said, the grin never fading. "I mean, here I am, getting excited about achieving a power that could obliterate everything in a three-mile radius. Most people would run from that kind of responsibility, but here I am, practically bouncing on my heels to get started."

    "That''s the spirit I like to see," Chronos replied, clapping a hand on my shoulder.

    I then asked, ¡°Just how much did you hold back when you showed me the punch? You weren''t wearing any binds.¡±

    "When I did that first punch, I was not only holding back the force but also intentionally stopped putting any real weight behind it as soon as my arm began to move. It was crucial to control the momentum to prevent any unintentional injury."

    He continued, explaining the layered precautions he took. "The reason I did this is simple but critical. Even a marginally full-forced punch, given my level of power, could be lethal. That''s why I set up an aura barrier around you immediately. Without it, the punch could have been fatal due to the sheer kinetic energy and aura infused within it."

    Chronos then described how he managed his own aura to prevent any damage to the surrounding environment. "I completely suppressed my aura in the arm I used to strike. This wasn''t just to protect you but to ensure there was no collateral damage to the building itself. A full release of aura in a confined space like this can have devastating effects, not just the immediate blast but structural damage due to the shockwaves."

    He gestured to himself, outlining another layer of precaution. "Finally, I set up another barrier around myself. This was an additional form of protection, a secondary containment to ensure that if any control over my aura slipped, it wouldn¡¯t go beyond this secondary barrier. It''s like having a failsafe; even if the primary control measures falter, the secondary one holds."

    Chronos''s detailed explanation highlighted not just the complexities of wielding such power but also the inherent risks involved. "Handling aura of this magnitude is not just about offensive capabilities. It¡¯s equally about defense and control. Every time I use my power, I have to be acutely aware of these layers of protection, not just for my own safety but for everyone around me. Although these won¡¯t be as necessary if you have a team that is on the same level as you or if you are well coordinated. Not to mention your control will improve the more you advance."

    ¡°So in other words, you wanted to show off a bit to turn it into a quick lesson while also showing how strong you are,¡± I said, half-teasing.

    Chronos feigned a wounded expression, dramatically placing a hand over his heart. ¡°Well, when you put it that way, it ruins all the effort I put into the buildup. Oh, how you wound your poor master.¡± He wiped a metaphorical tear from his eye, his smirk betraying his amusement.

    ¡°Alright, alright, I get the point. Until I reach Red rank, you aren¡¯t sparring with me,¡± I conceded.

    He nodded affirmatively, ¡°Correct.¡±

    ¡°So, what do we do now?¡± I asked, looking toward the remainder of the day.

    He raised an eyebrow, a hint of mischief in his tone. ¡°What do you mean? It¡¯s almost 4 PM, it¡¯s time for your flexibility training.¡±

    ¡°Okay,¡± I said, holding out my wrists expectantly. ¡°The Anchors, aren¡¯t you gonna take them off?¡±

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± he asked, feigning confusion.

    I shook my wrists, making the weights clank slightly. ¡°The Anchors, you¡¯re not planning to keep them on me for flexibility training, too, are you?¡±

    He laughed heartily, ¡°Oh no!¡±

    I sighed with relief, already reaching to unclasp them.

    But he continued, still chuckling, ¡°You¡¯re going to keep those on 24/7,¡± he stated matter-of-factly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

    My mouth dropped open. ¡°Oh, you mother-¡±

 Chapter 17 - Back to Normal... Kinda...

    After the pace of summer training with Chronos, returning to the rhythm of school life was almost uncanny. To be completely honest if my mom hadn¡¯t said anything about going back to school a few days ago I probably would have woken up today and jogged over to Chronos¡¯ place. I slung my backpack over my shoulder, the Anchors around my wrists clinking subtly. Yes, I still am not allowed to take them off, ¡°I never said you could take them off,¡± he said.

    Even amidst the bustle of chattering classmates and the slamming of lockers, the training never truly left me. After sparring with the doll we also had reaction time training, parkour courses, and my least favorite balance training. The bastard had me five feet above the ground hopping from pole to pole while throwing tennis balls at me. Each time I fell I had to climb back up on the poll I fell off of. Yes, with the Anchors on.

    ¡°Man, all summer with the Rock Lee weights, and now back to school with them too?¡± I grumbled to my friend Wade as we navigated through the crowded hallways. Luckily, we have the same homeroom this year. Last year we only had two classes together and homeroom wasn¡¯t one of them. ¡°Chronos insists it¡¯ll help keep my training integrated into my daily life. Feels like I¡¯m in a never-ending workout session.¡±

    Chronos said he didn¡¯t mind me telling people about the training, matter of fact he encouraged it. He figured out that I could complain to a teacher and they¡¯d have him take them off but apparently people using Anchors are common to disciples. I found this to be the truth during orientation as I saw roughly twelve students wearing one. Keyword, one. Mostly because they were already Awakened as their other wrist had a bind. So basically Chronos is a damn sadist. He started calling the Anchors, limiters, soon after because they essentially were limiters to someone like me. So I decided to vent my frustrations to my friend Wren.

    Wren laughed, giving the Anchors a curious glance. ¡°Looks hardcore, dude. But hey, you¡¯re probably the only guy here who can say he spent his whole summer preparing to take on Goku.¡±

    ¡°When I get there I¡¯ll let you know so you can power scale me,¡± I joked, shifting the heavy backpack to a more comfortable position. ¡°And yeah, the training schedule has gotten even more absurd with school now in the mix. Mornings, evenings, weekends, Chronos doesn¡¯t really believe in downtime.¡±

    Each morning was the usual run, due to the fact I was now conditioned to wake up ridiculously early. Evenings I am to run to his house to do the usual training with the combat and physical routines. Weekends are basically what I¡¯ve been doing all summer.

    As we settled into our first class of the day, the familiar yet distant world of academia enveloped me. Did I sound fancy there? Yeah I finally figured out the proper way to use that word in context. As well as adding a little spice. There was an issue though, I was never fully detached from the lessons of the summer, each movement of my wrist, each step I took was subtly influenced by the constant presence of the Anchors. To the point I started doing wrist curls with my pencil and what seemed to look like me tapping the heel of my foot I was actually just working out my calves.

    Chronos you bastard, how dare you turn even the most mundane habits of mine into workouts.

    ¡°Just make sure you don¡¯t accidentally take out a wall or something with those things,¡± Wren whispered with a grin as the teacher began the lesson.

    ¡°Yeah, that would make for an interesting parent-teacher conference, ¡®Erm yes your child was stretching and knocked over the wall¡¯,¡± I whispered back, a smirk playing in the corner of my mouth. This won¡¯t happen of course as the Anchors affect me and me alone. I didn¡¯t tell Wren that of course as I wanted to mess with him a bit.

    The final bell of the period rang, signaling the end of the class and the shuffle of students eager to move on to the next. I heaved my backpack onto my shoulder, feeling the additional pull of the Anchors around my wrists. I just paused and sighed at the constant reminder that I¡¯m going to have to get use to this or else I¡¯m just going to get annoyed at every little mundane thing I do.

    Yes, everything stands out even more. It¡¯s difficult to explain but the best comparison I can give is just imagine you¡¯re sitting down and you are about to pick up a pencil to write down something. You¡¯ve picked up a pencil and used it to write countless times and the motion is effortless. However this time you feel heavy as if a weighted blanket is wrapped around you. Then when you go to pick up the pencil it goes from weighing basically nothing to weighting as much as a boot. Then using said boot to write makes your fingers sore quickly as for some reason your english teacher decided to have you write two pages of notes.

    While taking a steady pace through the hall I could hear bits and pieces of chatter about everyone''s summer and things they did. Some went to Disneyland, others went to another country, if I joined in they would just look at me wondering if I was misbehaving at home and was sent to a boot camp.

    Finding my way to the next classroom, I chose a desk near the window, hoping for a bit of distraction from the outside world during the lecture. No, I most certainly didn¡¯t choose this seat because every anime protagonist sits here. It was most certainly not what I was hoping if it was open seating. Not at all.

    As I settled in, arranging my books and trying to get comfortable with the weight of the Anchors, a girl slid into the desk next to mine. Her light, floral perfume contrasted sharply with the sterile school air. I glanced over, noting her easy smile and amber hair falling softly around her shoulders. Pretty, definitely, but I was too caught up in adjusting to my dual life to dwell on it. There was a flicker of familiarity, but that was common enough in my grade.

    I was pulling out a notebook when she leaned towards me, her expression shy yet determined. ¡°Um, sorry but, what¡¯s your name?¡±

    Her directness caught me off guard. She was close enough that I could see the magenta flecks in her irises. ¡°Uh, Raiden,¡± I managed to reply, offering a small smile back. ¡°Raiden Alaric.¡±

    ¡°Irena,¡± she said, her smile widening. She hesitated, then added, ¡°I don¡¯t know if you remember, but you helped me out last year... with those guys and the book?¡±

    The memory clicked, a moment of a book flying through the air and a girls face hitting the base of a tree. ¡°Oh, right. I remember. How have you been since then? I was kind of in a rush so¡­ I didn¡¯t really get to check in.¡±

    ¡°Good, thanks to you. I¡­ I really wanted to thank you for that day. You kind of saved me.¡± Her voice was low, infused with a genuine gratitude that seemed to carry a weight of its own.

    Scratching my cheek with slight embarrassment I said, ¡°I wouldn¡¯t really say I saved you, I just threw a rock and they chased me throughout most of the neighborhood and cornered me in an alley.¡± I shifted in my seat. ¡°I didn¡¯t do much.¡±

    Her eyebrows furrowed, ¡°Cornered you?¡± Her eyes then widened, ¡°Did they hurt you?!¡±

    I winced, ¡°Y-yeah, we kind of got into a fight. But I¡¯m okay! As you can see I still have all my limbs.¡±

    She moved closer, her warm hands enveloping one of mine, holding it gently as if to confirm I was indeed okay. Her touch was soft, yet filled with an intensity that spoke volumes. "I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to get you involved." Her eyes started to glisten with tears, and her hands trembled slightly.

    I quickly shook my head, trying to ease her worry. ¡°No no no don¡¯t be sorry, you didn¡¯t do anything. I am the one who thought it was a great idea to throw a rock at him. You were the victim.¡±

    She meekly looked up at me here cheeks a faint red, ¡°Are you sure you¡¯re okay?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m okay.¡±

    She nodded and noticed the Anchor on my wrist, ¡°Is this, an Anchor?¡±

    ¡°Y-yes it is,¡± I said, happy to change the subject. The person who helped me when I was cornered is now my mentor, this is a part of my training.¡±

    ¡°Oh! So that means you¡¯re Awakened,¡± She signed with relief. ¡°I¡¯m glad.¡±

    ¡°N-not necessarily, I still haven¡¯t Awakened, my mentor is just helping me prepare.¡±

    ¡°Oh? Then that isn¡¯t a bind on your other wrist?¡±

    I lifted my other wrist to show her, ¡°No it¡¯s also an Anchor.¡±

    Her eyes widened, ¡°What? Why do you have two on? Most Ascendants only have one.¡±

    I had an expression of both acceptance and irritation, ¡°Yeah¡­ he¡¯s extreme.¡±

    ¡°He isn¡¯t taking advantage of you, is he? You aren¡¯t in trouble, right? This isn¡¯t his way of punishing you, is it?¡± Irena continued to barrage me with questions, her expression one of deep concern, as if she felt personally responsible. Watching her, I couldn¡¯t help but think she looked like a worried puppy, her eyes wide and earnest.

    These thoughts were interrupted when, without thinking, I reached out and placed a hand on her head.

    Oh no¡­

    She stopped mid-sentence and almost seemed to freeze under my touch. My instinctual reaction, honed from years of calming down my younger sister, took over, and I started patting her damn head.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t mean-¡± I started, immediately pulling my hand back, suddenly aware of how inappropriate my gesture might have seemed.

    Irena blinked, taken aback for a moment, then a small smile crept across her face. Her cheeks flushed a deep red, and she turned her gaze away, murmuring so softly it was almost lost to me, ¡°I-it¡¯s okay.¡±

    She seemed to whisper something else under her breath, too faint for me to catch. ¡°What was that?¡± I asked, leaning in slightly, curious.

    She jumped a bit, clearly not expecting me to pursue it. ¡°N-nothing!¡± she stammered, her voice a pitch higher than usual.

    Just then, the teacher walked in, her arrival prompting the usual cacophony of shifting chairs and chatter as the room transitioned from the relaxed pre-class atmosphere to one of academic readiness. I glanced over at Irena; she had her hand pressed against her chest, her breath seemingly caught in a sigh of relief. Her earlier anxiety seemed to have melted into a mix of embarrassment and relief, leaving her with a shy smile that suggested a blend of gratitude and lingering nervousness.

    As everyone settled into their seats, I leaned back, processing the brief exchange. I felt like both a damn fool and somewhat of a hero. Okay¡­ I might be reaching with that hero bit, but hey, a guy can dream, right? It did feel nice to be thanked, though.

    The rest of the school day passed without much fanfare. Classes blurred together in a monotony of lectures, notes, and the occasional glance out the window. Despite the ordinariness of the day, I couldn¡¯t help but notice the conspicuous absence of Tony, Bill, and Mateo. The trio, notorious in my memories for our little scuffle and the discovery of what I now know is an Origin.

    As the hours ticked by, their absence hung in the back of my mind like a silent question mark. It wasn¡¯t like them to miss school, especially since they were pretty well known and were already on set to be enrolled into an Ascendants Academy. Had my altercation with them last year scared them off? Or perhaps they had found a new school that better suited them according to their recent awakenings.

    Honestly, I was more disappointed than relieved. I had kind of hoped for a scenario where I''d see them across the hall, we''d lock eyes, and then maybe have a dramatic showdown after school to settle things once and for all. But nooo, they had to be buzzkills and ruin my delusions of grandeur.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    Their absence, while making my day undoubtedly smoother, also stripped away a chance for me to test my new strengths in a real confrontation, under controlled conditions, of course. It felt like being all dressed up with nowhere to go. Here I was, Anchors on my wrists, trained and ready, yet without the anticipated opportunity to prove the changes within me weren''t just physical, but also mental and strategic.

    Can¡¯t blame me for wanting to see the fruits of my labor. After all, I know I¡¯m more physically capable.

    As I made my way to my final class of the day, excitement bubbled within me. This wasn''t just any class, it was Advanced World Studies, where we would finally delve deep into the nature of realms. Although I had been introduced to the basics last year, now that I was in my final year before transitioning to Jr. High, things were about to get a lot more detailed. This was especially timely, as reaching the age of 13-14 was when most people tended to Awaken, and understanding the realms could profoundly impact the paths some would take.

    Realms had always fascinated me. Defined as distinct domains or planes associated with specific beings, entities, or concepts, each realm was a self-contained world governed by its own rules and populated by entities ranging from deities and spirits to mythical creatures. The school had touched on this last year, but only lightly, enough to whet my appetite and send me down a rabbit hole of late-night YouTube videos and online archives.

    The teacher entered the room, her eyes scanning over us with an understanding of the significance of the lessons we were about to embark on. "Welcome back everyone," she began, her voice steady and imbued with a hint of the awe these topics deserved. "I am Mrs. Alden, some of you I recognize from last year while others are new faces.¡±

    Mrs. Alden began the lecture by projecting an intricate, color-coded map of various realms onto the screen, each highlighted with vibrant colors and distinctive symbols. She addressed the class with a tone that mixed reverence with academic rigor.

    "Today, we delve into an essential component of our world and beyond, the Realms. These are not mere places but entire dimensions that exist parallel to our own, each governed by its own rules and populated by unique entities."

    Mrs. Alden began the lecture by showing a realm of towering trees and mystical ambiance, bringing us into the world of the Elves. The screen displayed Celathandria, a realm enveloped in verdant, endless forests illuminated by what some would call a magical light.

    "Celathandria," she began, "is home to a community of elves known for their neutrality and welcoming nature. Unlike their counterparts in Eldoria, Celathandrians do not harbor a superiority complex, making their realm one of the most accessible for diplomatic and cultural exchanges."

    As I listened, I thought about the diversity among the elven races, a topic that had always intrigued me given their significant roles in various tales and historical accounts. Elves were not a monolith; their cultures and attitudes varied widely.

    Mrs. Alden continued, detailing the four main races of elves, each with unique characteristics and societal structures. "First, we have the Wood Elves," she explained, "They are deeply attuned to forest environments, possessing keen senses and a profound connection with nature. They excel in archery and are often found living in harmony with the flora and fauna of their woods."

    I remembered reading that Wood Elves were considered guardians of their forests, their lives dedicated to preserving the natural balance, often intervening only when the ecosystem was threatened.

    "Next, there are the High Elves," Mrs. Alden added, her tone slightly shifting to denote a change in the nature of these beings. "Known for their intelligence and mastery of aura techniques, High Elves are often perceived as aloof or arrogant. They reside in secluded towers or magnificent floating cities, where they pursue higher knowledge regarding the power one can wield with aura. However, it''s important to note that their reputation for discrimination can make interactions challenging for those not of their kind."

    The complexities of dealing with High Elves had always been a point of tension in elven narratives, their isolationist tendencies creating barriers even among their own kind. Not to mention they do stand out. Compared to Wood Elves, they have far more fair features and the vast majority are an average of 6¡¯4. They are tall and some of them can reach 8 feet tall. They also have longer ears, pale colored hair, and alabaster skin. They are well known for their beauty but their attitudes ruin it. However one thing is certain, they respect power regardless of race. They see themselves as superior because they quite literally are in many areas, so the best thing you could do is be better than them.

    "Then, we have the Dark Elves, or Drows," she continued, introducing a race often shrouded in mystery and misconception. "Characterized by their pale or dark skin, Drows dwell in subterranean cities or in remote deserts. Unlike their surface-dwelling cousins, Dark Elves have adapted to life underground and desolate environments. Thus, developing unique abilities that often involve mastery over shadows or the use of poisons."

    Drows¡¯ flexibility in choosing their paths, whether in mastering aura or other forms of power, made them intriguing figures in the elven hierarchy, often misunderstood but highly adaptable and resourceful. Their skills make them valuable assets for governments around the world, especially in espionage and intelligence networks.

    Jason Bourne and James Bond are also very popular with the Dark Elves, funny enough.

    "As you can see, the realm of the Elves is as varied as any other, with each group adapting to their environments and developing distinct cultures," Mrs. Alden concluded, her overview providing a broad understanding of how elves fit into the larger tapestry of realms.

    As Mrs. Alden transitioned her lecture to Lycania, images of lush, ever-changing landscapes filled the screen, morphing with an almost breath-like rhythm. The beauty of it had a raw, primal edge, unlike anything I¡¯d seen before.

    "Lycania," Mrs. Alden introduced, "is inhabited by Therianthropes, beings who can shift their form from humanoid to various animals. These inhabitants might appear as pureblooded wolves, lions, foxes, etc. Some even appear as humans with subtle animal traits, such as ears or a tail."

    As she continued detailing the realm, my mind wandered through what I already knew and imagined about the Therianthropes. The realm¡¯s environment, while primitive, was a reflection of its residents, with landscapes that shifted as often as their forms. This constant change hinted at a deep connection between the land and its people, one that was as intuitive as it was spiritual.

    Despite its mystical allure, Lycania wasn¡¯t without its challenges. The culture there leaned towards the traditional, often holding tightly to old ways despite recent advancements. It was a realm where tradition clashed with innovation, creating a unique dynamic that often led its more progressive denizens to leave in search of other places where change was more readily embraced.

    I recalled reading that the pride of Lycania''s people in their lineage was profound, almost sacred. They had even coined terms like ''beastkin'' or animal-specific identifiers like ''foxgirl'' or ''wolfman'', which were initially suggested by them despite some groups finding these terms insensitive. My dad often joked about the complexity of their naming conventions as some became too specific.

    That Pomeranian Dogwoman my dad met was quite insistent on what she was.

    Making an offhand comment about their appearance, which one might think harmless, could be seen as a grave insult. I remembered an anecdote about a comparison between two wolfmen that nearly led to a physical altercation, simply because one appeared less ''wolf-like'' than the other. This sensitivity stemmed from a belief that physical traits were indicative of purity of lineage, a belief that later research debunked, showing it was more about genetic variations common in species capable of transformation.

    Interestingly, those who understood this were often the ones who migrated from Lycania to Earth or other realms, adapting their forms to integrate more seamlessly with other societies. Meanwhile, those who clung to tradition either remained isolated in Lycania or stuck to their old ways even abroad.

    Mrs. Alden then shifted the class¡¯s attention to a rugged, stony slide labeled "Dwarrowdelf". The image on the screen showed sprawling underground cities glowing with the warm light of forges, and vast halls carved deep within mountains.

    "Dwarrowdelf," she began, "is the realm of the Dwarves, known for their robust craftsmanship and architectural prowess. This realm is characterized by its expansive underground cities and expertly crafted metalwork."

    As she spoke, I visualized the stout, sturdy figures of Dwarves, bustling through their stone-carved corridors. From what I had learned, Dwarves are not just skilled artisans but also formidable warriors and miners, their society deeply rooted in the riches that lie beneath the earth.

    Mrs. Alden continued, "Their culture places a high value on craftsmanship and the mining of precious ores. Social status among Dwarves is often derived from one''s skill in these areas. A master blacksmith or a renowned stone mason holds high esteem in their society."

    The thought of such a society fascinated me. It was a stark contrast to the fluid and changing nature of Lycania. Here, in Dwarrowdelf, everything was about permanence and legacy. The structures they built and the items they crafted were meant to last, imbuing their work with a sense of timelessness.

    "Dwarves may appear human-like but are distinctively different. They are typically shorter, averaging about 4¡¯5¡± in height, and are considerably more robust, built to endure the physically demanding tasks their lifestyles require."

    As Mrs. Alden elaborated on their renowned metalwork and gem-cutting skills, I thought about the various artifacts that might have originated from such skilled hands. Their work wasn''t just functional; it was also artistic, each piece telling a story of the earth it came from and the hands that shaped it.

    "Their underground cities aren¡¯t just marvels of construction; they are fortresses, designed to withstand sieges and protect their inhabitants," she added. "This architectural prowess speaks volumes about their values, security, durability, and craftsmanship above all."

    Funny enough they don¡¯t take any offense to when anything regarding their height comes up. However there are some things that are instead just inconvenient. Similar to how here on Earth we have humans with dwarfism the majority of luxuries on earth aren¡¯t suited for them, such as vehicles, chairs, tables, etc. I believe it was roughly two centuries ago when their immigration had gotten large enough to where they established cities for themselves as well as being allowed to reside in mountain ranges. The most popular locations for Dwarfs were the major mountain ranges around the world. The Andes, The Rockies, Himalayas, so on and so forth. Mount Everest was then set to be their primary enclave after some talks between China and India.

    They just wanted the biggest mountain, it¡¯s no secret.

    As the lecture moved forward, Mrs. Alden switched the projector to a slide showing a realm that seemed to pulse with life itself, the realm of Sylvaranth, home of the Dryads. The image displayed an immense, sentient forest, trees towering and intertwined, with leaves that shimmered with an ethereal glow.

    "Sylvaranth is almost entirely composed of an expansive living forest," Mrs. Alden explained. "It is inhabited by Dryads and other nature spirits who share a symbiotic relationship with their environment. The health of the forest directly impacts the well-being of its inhabitants and vice versa."

    I let my mind wander through the concept of a living forest. Dryads, as I understood, were also no longer creatures of folklore but real beings whose lives were so intertwined with their habitat that they could influence and communicate with the vegetation around them. They were embodiments of the forest itself, guardians of their realm who could manipulate plant life and thrive within its bounds.

    Mrs. Alden continued, "Dryads are intrinsically connected to the flora, able to control and nurture the plants around them. This connection allows them to protect their realm from intruders and maintain the ecological balance necessary for their survival."

    I thought about the logistics of such a life, being so connected to your environment that its health directly affects your own. It was a profound reminder of the interconnectedness of all living things, albeit on a much more intimate scale for the Dryads.

    "The culture of the Dryads is deeply ecological," Mrs. Alden elaborated. "They live in harmony with nature, and their society is structured around the well-being of their forest. Leadership among Dryads is often determined by an individual''s ability to nurture and sustain the largest and healthiest portions of the forest."

    As she detailed their peaceful, nurturing nature, I realized that the strength of the Dryads lay in their unity and their profound bond with the forest. They didn¡¯t build cities or monuments; their legacy was the health of the forest itself. Every tree grown, every plant healed, was a testament to their care and connection to their world.

    "Dryads are also known for their healing abilities, using herbal and floral remedies to heal not only each other but any who seek their aid," Mrs. Alden added, showing images of Dryads tending to wounded animals or sick plants. "Their knowledge of botanical medicine is unparalleled, making them excellent healers and caretakers."

    As the discussion on Sylvaranth concluded, I felt a sense of awe for the Dryads'' way of life. Their existence challenged many of the norms I knew about society and civilization. It wasn¡¯t about dominance or development but about stewardship and preservation. Their realm was a vivid example of how beings could live in absolute harmony with their environment, shaping it and being shaped by it in return.

    Mrs. Alden paused, ensuring the students were keeping up, then continued, "Each realm, whether it is Elemental like the Flame of Pyria or Celestial, hosts an environment that is an extreme manifestation of specific elements or ideals. These realms influence not just their own inhabitants but also have ripple effects on our world and others."

    She concluded, "Understanding these realms gives us insight into the diversity and complexity of the universe''s structure. Each realm functions under its own laws, and the beings that inhabit these realms can often traverse or influence other realms, including our own. We''ll explore the mechanics of traveling between these realms in future classes, but for now, grasp the vastness and variety that exists just beyond the veil of our everyday reality."

    ¡°Now I¡¯m sure you¡¯re all wondering why I''m pointing to these places, yet you don¡¯t recall ever seeing them on a globe. Well it¡¯s simple, it¡¯s because they are not of this world. Each of these realms I explained as well as its inhabitants are from different worlds that we thus call Realms. As of today we currently are connected to 47 Realms. What I have shown you was only three of those 47, and there are plenty more to explore as we continue this class.¡±

    As I walked out of the school at the end of the day, I couldn''t shake off a sense of anticlimax. Sure, peace at school was the ideal scenario, but a part of me had looked forward to the challenge. After school I jogged over to Chronos¡¯ home and we did the usual training. It goes without saying that Chronos still didn¡¯t get the hint that I have other obligations to school and still worked me until I dropped.

    At least things are back to normal... kinda...

 Chapter 18 - Eyes Open, Mind Sharp

    Days turned into weeks, and weeks blurred into months. Most of my free time vanished into the void of training, school, and sleep, leaving just enough scraps for the things I usually enjoyed, but not as much as I used to. At school, life was still¡­ life. I got use to the weight of the Anchors to where I no longer notice the feeling of their weight. So I don''t look awkward now when I''m trying to eat a sandwich and start heaving when I finished unwrapping my burrito. I had a few friends I¡¯d chat with here and there, but there was one person who stood out: Irena.

    She was still shy, but our conversations had grown from quick exchanges to something more regular. Bit by bit, she opened up, and now we talked almost daily. Is this the start of a romcom? Ha, funny stuff right there. That would be a nice change of pace. But here¡¯s the thing: there¡¯s a little¡­ tiny little complication.

    Irena¡¯s from the Aeridor Clan.

    ¡°What¡¯s a Clan?¡± you ask? Imagine a massive family tree with so many branches it could rival a forest. A family clan is like one of those ancient, sprawling oaks, each branch representing a related family, all tracing their roots back to one ridiculously important ancestor. The Aeridor Clan isn¡¯t just any branch; it¡¯s the entire damn tree in some forests. The Clan Head? A Yellow-Ranked Ascendant.

    Yeah, you heard that right. Yellow Rank. That''s a whole five ranks above Green, and I¡¯m not even awakened yet. So, let¡¯s just say that someone like me, with no illustrious family name backing me, is less than an afterthought when it comes to being seen as a potential love interest for someone like Irena.

    I know what you¡¯re thinking: ¡®But Rai, forbidden love though! Bitches eat that shit up!¡¯

    Yeah, no. It doesn¡¯t work like that. In this world, power is everything. Clans like Aeridor don¡¯t marry for love; they marry for alliances, prestige, and bloodlines. Irena¡¯s probably already got a list of potential fianc¨¦s from other prominent clans. Heck, maybe even some offshoot relatives in the family itself. Does that sound a little incestuous? Sure. But when your family is so large it spans two cities, it¡¯s less ew and more eh, who cares.

    Oh, and about those three guys who messed with her and made her french kiss a tree? Turns out her family found out. She didn¡¯t give me details, she¡¯s not the type to share, but I can only imagine what went down. Whatever it was, it must¡¯ve been bad. She doesn¡¯t have to say anything; the scar on her forehead says it all.

    Yeah, I didn¡¯t notice it at first because she kept it hidden under her hair. But once I did, everything clicked. When her family saw her bleeding that day, they didn¡¯t take it lightly. At all.

    Here¡¯s the interesting part, though, Irena could¡¯ve had the cut healed completely, no scar, no trace. But she chose to keep it. She said it¡¯s her motivation. Apparently, after what happened that day and seeing what I did, she decided to start training herself.

    Honestly? I respect it. She took a bad moment and turned it into fuel for something better. Not a lot of people can do that.

    Oh, right, almost forgot to mention something pretty crucial about Irena and her clan, they''re not exactly from around here. And by ''here,'' I mean Earth. Yeah, you heard that right. Turns out she¡¯s a Dryad. Okay, not full-on mystical forest spirit, but demi-human. Her dad''s human, and her mom¡¯s a Dryad. That blend? It makes her something else.

    At first, I just noticed she was very pretty, but after our regular chats, that just fell to the back of my mind. However, I couldn¡¯t help but see how many people fawned over her. Don¡¯t get me wrong, I initially thought, ¡®Ah, she has a lot of friends.¡¯ But no, there¡¯s more to it. Dryads naturally emit pheromones that make them incredibly comforting to be around. There¡¯s a ton of history behind these pheromones, but that¡¯s a lore dump for another day, or maybe it¡¯ll come up if I ever get trapped in a conversation where a Dryad has to explain it. Then, boom, instant refresher.

    Interestingly, these pheromones didn¡¯t seem to affect me as much as others. I asked Chronos about it, and he mentioned it varies from person to person. Must be why I still find her easy to talk to without getting lost in ''those eyes'' or whatever everyone else is swooning about.

    On a side note, I¡¯ve met a few other races recently, a couple of beastkin and some wood elves. Obviously, no high elves; they stick to their own elite schools. Interestingly enough, while these groups have their own Ascendant Academies in their realms, many still come to the primary ones here on Earth.

    I don¡¯t know all the details, but Earth has somehow become the center of everything. Every realm is connected to us, and most of the academies are here too. I''m not sure how we pulled off such a monopoly, but I¡¯m guessing the politicians and CEOs behind it are laughing all the way to the bank, wiping their tears with cash.

    Regardless, things have just become mundane? I don¡¯t know how to explain it. I don¡¯t recall ever feeling this way with having a normal life. I want to say I am enjoying my time but I¡¯m just missing something. Is it bad to say that the highlights were when I was fighting the dolls? Even more so after I managed to finally upgrade from the kid doll to the teen doll?

    When I mentioned this to Chronos, he just laughed, a deep, knowing chuckle that both reassured and unnerved me. "I might have just the thing to spice it up, you look like you just want to keel over and cry," he said, but the twinkle in his eye made me more nervous than excited.

    What did he mean by that?

    As the year sped by, my frustration grew. Despite all my hard work and dedication, I had yet to awaken. No revelation, no insight, nothing. And trust me, I tried everything. My meditation sessions felt like hitting a wall; I couldn¡¯t progress further without my awakening, and I wanted to rip my hair out.

    Then, towards the end of the year, after a particularly grueling training session, Chronos pulled me aside. He handed me an envelope with a flourish, as if presenting a grand prize. "What''s this?" I asked, a mix of curiosity and exhaustion in my voice.

    "This," Chronos said, standing tall with his arms crossed and nose slightly lifted in a mock-serious pose, "is something to help with your mundane life, my little apprentice."

    I raised an eyebrow but took the envelope. "Uh huh." Inside, I found a letter that made my heart skip a beat:

    Dear Raiden Alaric,

    Congratulations! You have been selected to participate in the prestigious martial arts contest between schools hosted here in the City of Dawn. This event gathers young talents from various backgrounds to showcase their skills and spirit. We believe your unique abilities and dedication make you an excellent candidate to represent your school and perhaps uncover deeper potentials within yourself.

    Please find the details of the event enclosed. We look forward to seeing you shine at the competition.

    The realization that I was being thrown into a martial arts contest didn¡¯t fully register at first. A part of me buzzed with excitement, this was exactly the kind of challenge I needed to shake up my routine. Yet, another part of me trembled at the weight of expectation. Not just from Chronos or the school, but from myself. This could be my moment, the push I needed to finally awaken, or it could be a spectacular flop. Either way, it was an opportunity I couldn''t pass up.

    "Now that is a smile I only see when you are facing the dolls," Chronos observed, his voice tinged with amusement.

    I touched my face, realizing just how much I had been unconsciously reveling in the thought of competition. A challenge is what I needed. Not just with the dolls, but with real people so that I can get a good gauge on what people can do.

    It was only a day before Chronos and I were set to head to the arena for the competition. When I got home and told my mom about it, she practically lost her mind. Her reaction was a mix of excitement and sheer panic, a whirlwind of concern only a mother could muster.

    I swear she can never make up her mind on whether she wants to be excited or scared for my life.

    "Raiden, are you sure about this? Competing in front of all those people, against who knows what kind of opponents?" she fretted, pacing the kitchen floor. ¡°What if you break something? What if the person your facing decides to play dirty and kick you in your-¡±

    I had to reassure her a dozen times. "Mom, it''s going to be okay. Chronos wouldn''t let me enter if he didn''t think I was ready. Plus, it''s a great chance to finally test myself, to see how far I''ve come. I want to see just the pay off of all my hard work.¡± Gradually, she calmed down, but not without making me promise to call her right after the event, and maybe a few times before and during, if possible. She even suggested I put an ear bud in so I can tell her what¡¯s going on.

    She would have come for sure but she has a client to work with on that day. My dad is currently in another realm on a contract and won¡¯t be back for a week. Iris is probably the most upset she can¡¯t go. Mom said if she can¡¯t go, no one can. She tried to sneak me in that phrase of not going but it didn¡¯t work out in her favor. I told her that the contest will be recorded and she can watch it with everyone.

    The night before leaving, I stood in front of my bedroom mirror, getting ready and going through the mental checklist of things I needed to bring. As I was about to pull on my competition gear, a snug, lightweight grey and white hanfu, I caught sight of my reflection and actually took a moment to look. Really look.

    The person staring back at me was almost unrecognizable from the kid who had started training with Chronos. My shoulders were broader, arms toned with muscles that hadn¡¯t been there a few months ago, and my overall frame had filled out, reflecting the intense training and discipline I had endured. The muscle definition was more pronounced than I ever remembered seeing; each movement I made caused them to flex and shift, showcasing the strength I had built up.

    I turned, observing the changes from different angles, a sense of pride swelling within me. I had worked hard for every line and curve of muscle, each one a testament to the grueling sessions with Chronos, the relentless routines, and the countless repetitions. I couldn¡¯t help but strike a few bodybuilder poses and a few shameless JoJo poses.

    ¡°Not too shabby,¡± I muttered to myself, a grin tugging at the corners of my mouth.

    After arriving at the arena, which turned out to be a repurposed basketball stadium now adorned with mats and infused with an electrifying atmosphere, Chronos and I made our way to the sign-in table to get registered. The air buzzed with the energy of competitors and spectators alike, each step echoing on the stadium floor.

    As we approached the registration table, I noticed that the competitors, myself included, were all dressed in traditional hanfus. The flowing robes varied in color and design, representing different schools and their unique heritages. I thought it was for some sort of gimmick that Chronos handed me one to wear but he had explained that hanfus became the norm for most trainees. Once I awakened I could wear what I pleased because who is someone to question what I chose to fight in. Obviously depending on your background it might matter but eh, I want to be comfortable.

    "Alaric, Raiden," Chronos announced to the lady behind the table, his voice cutting through the muted conversations around us. The official found my name on the list and handed over a lanyard with a badge, detailing my placement in the junior division. I was marked as #490.

    "You''re on mat seven for your first match," she informed, her voice brisk but friendly. "Schedule''s on the back of your badge. Good luck!"

    Chronos and I navigated through the bustling arena to find mat seven, passing other competitors who were stretching and practicing their forms. The traditional robes seemed to enhance their movements, the fabric flowing gracefully with each kick and punch. I was trying to hold back a smile from seeing all of these people who I get a chance to get in the ring with.

    Once we reached mat seven Chronos leaned in, his voice low and steady. "Remember, Rai, ''Eyes open, mind sharp.''"

    The phrase clicked something in me, a reminder of the countless hours we¡¯d spent on observation and strategy. My opponent was #53, I studied my opponent, noting his stance, the way he distributed his weight, and the subtle tells in his movements, signs of his strengths and potential weaknesses.

    He was slightly taller than me, with a confident air about him that suggested experience. His eyes caught mine, and we both acknowledged the unspoken challenge. This was it, the chance to test myself.

    As the referee called us to the center of the mat, I took a deep breath, grounding myself in the techniques Chronos had drilled into me.

    I watched his posture. His shoulders were squared, slightly raised, indicating he might be tenser than he wanted to show. Chronos¡¯s words from a training session echoed in my mind: ¡°Tension is a sign of preparedness, but also of fear. Use it to your advantage.¡± I noted how his feet were positioned, a solid stance, but one that suggested he preferred moving forward over retreating.

    As we were instructed to bow to each other, I focused on his center of gravity, noting it shifted slightly forward on his toes. Chronos always emphasized, ¡°The balance tells you their next move before they make it.¡± This subtle cue indicated his eagerness, likely signaling his intent to strike quickly.

    Pressing my fist into my open palm, I bowed and spoke the word "Proelium," meaning "Battle" in Latin, as Chronos had taught me. ¡°Let this contest sharpen us both,¡± I declared, injecting a formal tone of respect into the challenge. This gesture, practiced even against the sparring dolls, was meant to foster a proper etiquette for duels and contests alike.

    My opponent merely nodded in response, skipping the traditional bow. I squinted slightly, a mix of annoyance and humor flickering through me.

    Did Chronos set me up to look like a damn chuni?

    But a quick scan of the arena showed other competitors engaging in similar rituals, some even more elaborate than mine.

    Okay, not a setup then, just my luck to draw Harry as a first opponent. Yes his name is now Harry.

    I''d once asked Chronos about the significance of exchanging names during a match, having seen it often in anime where it seemed to cement mutual respect. Hey can''t blame a guy for being curious. I wanna feel cool by having someone ask my name in the middle of a battle too.

    ¡°It¡¯s a real thing,¡± he had confirmed, ¡°but whether or not someone reciprocates tells you a lot about them.¡± He¡¯d explained that it is universally known that if you do a name exchange, you''ve gained your opponents full respect or they have acknowledged you. While I don''t expect this kind of thing to happen at a small martial arts contest for teens it was just good information to have when I have some real bouts with Ascendants.

    As the referee called us to the center of the mat to start the match, the absence of that exchange hung in the air, unspoken but sharply felt. I want to say I was nervous, but I was actually starting to get excited. How long has it been? Almost a year without a single bit of combat. The thought soon pumped adrenaline in me and I already had a smile plastered on my face as the referee began the match.

    Harry advanced quickly, launching a left jab followed by a right straight. But something about his approach felt... off. He was egregiously slow. And I mean, comically slow. His posture was sloppy, footwork amateur, and his punches were thrown with such dramatic flair that I almost wanted to wince. It was like watching a slow-motion scene without the cool special effects. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    Am I being punked?

    With almost no effort, I tilted my head back slightly, dodging his sluggish attempts with ease. The punches sailed harmlessly past me, and I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that I was missing something. Was this actually his best shot, or was there some strategy behind his seemingly clumsy offense? I didn''t let my guard down and proceeded to continue dodging his punches. He threw a few kicks which I avoided easily. I just kept waiting until he did, well, anything.

    As the referee blew the whistle, signaling the end of the round, confusion flickered across my face. The round was awarded to Harry. I was about to protest, but then I looked down, my foot had slipped out of bounds.

    Oh, so this is your game? I guess you are a wizard Harry.

    I thought, half-amused and half-annoyed. Harry must have maneuvered me out while I was too busy dodging his sluggish attempts. Not a bad strategy making me think he was actually bad by throwing random attacks at me.

    The next round started, and this time, I switched gears. No more waiting for Harry to show a hint of competence. I decided to take the offensive, stepping in quickly and launching a barrage of strikes that Harry could barely react to. Each move I made was precise and deliberate, closing any gap he might use to his advantage. And he fell out of the ring almost instantly after my first three strikes.

    Within moments, it became clear. This wasn''t a strategic masterclass from Harry; it was all he had. His slow punches weren¡¯t a ploy to catch me off-guard, they were just slow punches. His movements weren¡¯t a setup, they were simply, well, shit. As this realization sank in, my initial amusement at his supposed "strategy" turned into pure disappointment.

    I wrapped up the final bout quickly, landing a few well-placed hits that the referee deemed enough to call it in my favor. As I walked back to where Chronos stood, the win felt¡­ well¡­ hollow.

    This couldn''t be right. Chronos had drilled into me the importance of adaptability and preparedness, there was no way he¡¯d have me walk into a fight this unbalanced.

    I looked over to Chronos and saw him with the same expression I had. Disappointment.

    Scratching his head he spoke, ¡°You know, I really should have thought this through before having you do this. I did see a decent amount of talent in here but I should have realized sooner that it''s going to take some time before it gets even remotely interesting.¡±

    I sighed, ¡°So in other words, just speedrun the competition until I get something interesting.¡±

    Chronos also sighed, ¡°Yeah¡­¡±

    My next several fights were just as mundane. Match after match, I found myself just going through the motions. Each opponent folded quicker than a bad poker hand, and none brought the spark I craved. It was less of a battle and more of a brisk morning jog through predictable scenery.

    As the rounds dragged on, we finally edged closer to the semi-finals. Only one more fight before things really got interesting. To pass the time, I sunk into a meditative state, letting the noise of the bustling arena fade into the background. Chronos had wandered off to snag some snacks and another water bottle for me.

    I was deep in meditation when I heard a voice cut through my focus. "Greetings, my name is Yuki, Yuki Yamamoto." My eyes fluttered open to see a girl my age standing before me. A confident-looking girl with short black hair, a quirky beauty mark near her left eye, and dressed in martial arts robes that were way fancier than mine. They were dark with some intense blood lotus patterns all over which is a stark contrast to my basic grey and white. The robe was cinched at the waist with a belt that bore the number #98, signaling her participation. She wasn¡¯t alone, flanked by three others in similar robes, all wearing that ¡®we mean business¡¯ look.

    Ooo a school disciple and their entourage? I was hoping for this scenario.

    I stood, reaching out a hand. ¡°Raiden, Raiden Alaric.¡± But she didn¡¯t take it, just kept her eyes fixed on mine. I couldn''t tell if it was curiosity or just a difference in culture for her not taking my hand.

    Dawn, the city we lived in, wasn''t your typical place. It was one of two cities on an island off the coast of California, crafted centuries ago by an ascendant who decided to turn his home into a cultural hub instead. This place was massive, state-sized, designed to be a melting pot for all sorts of cultures and races. At the top of the large island/continent (it¡¯s a topic of debate) was the city of Dawn, and at the bottom was, you guessed it, the city of Dusk. Both have a population of roughly two or three million. So not recognizing every custom was expected so you can''t blame me for having some ignorance.

    Seeing she wasn¡¯t going for the handshake, I air-shook her imagined hand with a grin. ¡°Nice to meet you too.¡±

    Her gaze stayed on me, intense enough to turn it into a bit of a standoff. I held her stare, turning it into a game. The moment she blinked, I snapped my fingers and pointed at her. ¡°Ha, you blinked first!¡±

    She let out a chuckle, her stern facade breaking. ¡°Ha, just as I thought, he was being overdramatic.¡±

    ¡°Thank you?¡± I shot back, a bit thrown but rolling with it.

    ¡°A member of my school had fought you and had said you might pose a challenge. But it seems all it did was prove his incompetence.¡±

    Greatttt, you''re one of those.

    ¡°Oh, really? Which one was he?¡± I asked, scratching my chin, trying to remember anyone who could have been from her school. I grabbed my water bottle and took a quick drink, waiting for her to drop a name.

    She gestured towards her robe, ¡°Didn¡¯t you notice our uniforms? We¡¯re from the Hidden Leaf scho-¡±

    I choked on my water, sputtering it out in surprise. The name caught me so off-guard I burst out laughing, accidentally spraying water in her direction. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry!¡± I managed between laughs. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ your school¡¯s name got me. It¡¯s¡­ interesting.¡±

    She didn¡¯t seem amused, wiping off her robes as I tried to compose myself. Maybe laughing about her school¡¯s name wasn¡¯t the best move, but I couldn¡¯t help it. The ¡®Hidden Leaf¡¯ school, seriously?

    I see what you did there.

    Her expression grew stern, and she held out her arms to calm her companions. "You do realize the significance of the Hidden Leaf, don¡¯t you? It¡¯s not just some name to be laughed at.¡±

    I wiped away the last droplets of water, struggling to suppress my smirk. ¡°Oh, I recognize the importance. Truly legendary. So, which one of you is training to be the next Hokage?¡± I couldn''t help myself.

    Her annoyance was palpable. ¡°This isn¡¯t a joke. The Hidden Leaf School is among the most esteemed martial arts academies in Japan. We train some of the finest warriors and Ascendants.¡±

    That¡¯s when Chronos came back, armed with popcorn and water bottles. He handed me one and cracked open his, giving our new friends a quick once-over. ¡°I see you made some friends. What are you talking about?¡±

    ¡°Is this your student?¡± Yuki asked, her tone laced with venom.

    ¡°Yes, is there an issue?¡± Chronos replied nonchalantly, taking a sip.

    ¡°Your student just insulted the Hidden Leaf scho-¡±

    And just like that, Chronos spat out his water, almost mirroring my earlier reaction. As he wiped his mouth, a mischievous grin played across his lips. ¡°Oh, the Hidden Leaf? My apologies, didn¡¯t realize we were graced by ninjas from the Land of Fire today.¡±

    Yuki¡¯s patience wore thinner, and she dabbed her robe dry. ¡°Is mocking our traditions amusing to you?¡±

    I couldn¡¯t resist going over the top, I dropped into a full dogeza, prostrating myself on the floor dramatically. ¡°I deeply apologize for our oversight. Perhaps you¡¯d prefer to rectify this with a classic One Thousand Years of Death? It¡¯s reputedly quite popular among your ranks. Chronos, do we have any lube handy for such a procedure?¡±

    Chronos tsked, feigning disappointment. ¡°Alas, the Uzumaki and Uchiha clans have hoarded it all. It¡¯s a rare commodity these days.¡±

    Rising from my exaggerated bow, I straightened up. ¡°Sadly, we¡¯re fresh out of lube. Maybe you have some baby oil on hand? Your skin does have a rather radiant sheen.¡±

    Her cheeks flushed red with a mix of embarrassment and anger. ¡°You dare continue to mock me and our school?¡±

    With a cheeky wink and a double finger-point, I couldn''t resist one last jab. ¡°Believe it!¡±

    At that moment, one of her teammates started forward, his tag displaying #364. Before he could get any closer, Yuki grabbed his arm. ¡°Yamero, Ryuto-san!¡± She shot me a fierce glare. ¡°You''ll have your chance in the next match; he is your next opponent.¡±

    ¡°Oh, really?¡± Excitement tinged my voice, an electric buzz under my skin.

    ¡°Yes, I was going to tell you, but I was beaten to the punch,¡± Chronos chimed in, his expression mockingly somber.

    ¡°You have not only disrespected me but our school as well. We will not take this lightly,¡± Yuki snapped back.

    ¡°Ah! This is the part where you challenge me, right? Putting something on the line to compensate for your hurt feelings!¡± I exclaimed, barely containing my glee.

    Her brows furrowed slightly. ¡°Y-yes, this is a great idea, who ever wi-¡±

    ¡°Alright, what do you want? A formal apology, me becoming your servant for a few days, a naked dogeza?¡±

    ¡°N-no, what I want is-¡±

    ¡°Or do you want to spit on me as payback? Careful, though, a pretty girl spitting water on me? I might find that charming,¡± I teased, wiggling my eyebrows suggestively.

    ¡°P-p-pretty?¡± She stuttered, momentarily thrown off.

    I gasped dramatically, feigning shock. ¡°No! Don''t tell me you''re a tomboy who''s never been called pretty! Say it isn''t so!¡±

    ¡°I-I-¡±

    Leaning back against Chronos, I adopted a look of mock horror. ¡°Chronos, quickly! We must spirit away before I succumb to her charms. My fighting spirit may falter if I face her in the ring!¡±

    Chronos played along perfectly, gasping theatrically. ¡°You¡¯re right, my young apprentice! To the getaway vehicle!¡± He hoisted me onto his shoulder as if preparing for a dramatic exit, and we made our escape, leaving Yuki and her entourage behind, bewildered and unsure how to react to our theatrics.

    As Chronos whisked me away, his stride exaggerated and theatrical, I couldn¡¯t help but glance back over his shoulder. Yuki and her team stood rooted to the spot, their expressions a mix of frustration and utter bewilderment. The corners of my mouth twitched upwards; it was hard not to chuckle at the chaos we''d left in our wake.

    "Seriously, Chronos," I said, once we were far enough away, "I know you saw what went down. So tell me, is the ¡®Hidden Leaf school¡¯ actually significant? If so why did you join in on my little situation and not say anything?¡±

    ¡°Yes, they are significant, I won''t lie that the name of the school was directly inspired by Naruto, but their results are pretty solid. Overhyped? Yes, but regardless in Japan they most certainly recognize it as one of their best martial arts schools.¡±

    I pondered that, ¡°Wait, what other schools are here that I''m unaware of?¡±

    ¡°About twelve, but Hidden Leaf eliminated the majority, there''s only two others left besides them.¡±

    Raising an eyebrow I said, ¡°Wait, so they actually are pretty good?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I never said they weren''t. Not to mention there aren''t really any notable martial arts schools here in Dawn or Dusk. Also this competition isn''t that significant in comparison to one hosted by the A.A. So it is kind of curious as to why they are here. I could make a few guesses but eh not worth it.¡±

    ¡°I see, so I''m fighting, what''s his name¡­ Ryuto? Also, do you know anything about that Yuki girl?¡±

    ¡°Yamamoto? Oh, are you into Asians? I wouldn¡¯t bother, She¡¯s part of the Blood Lotus Sect. Her grandfather is one of its elders."

    I nodded, ignoring the comment about me being into Asians. "Ah, I see. And I have no clue who that is."

    Chronos smirked, not missing a beat. "Eh, I don''t blame you. They aren''t exactly a household name in areas with a stronger American influence like here. They have a couple branches here but nothing noteworthy. It¡¯s mostly for the sake of presence."

    I squinted thoughtfully. "Wait, you clearly could have intervened at any time. Was this all part of your plan? Having me square off against a top contender from an esteemed school?"

    Chronos shrugged, ¡°As much as I want to say yes, I can¡¯t take credit for that. This was all you.¡±

    ¡°Well then, I didn¡¯t realize my charm was strong enough to attract the attention of a noble lady from a sect of all things.¡± I joked, running a hand through my hair with a theatrical flourish.

    He raised an eyebrow. ¡°It is odd to think you¡¯d ask a girl you just met to spit on you.¡±

    I chuckled, adding to the joke, ¡°If she¡¯s pretty enough I don¡¯t see why not.¡± Chronos looked at me with concern. I rolled my eyes, ¡°Oh fuck off you know it¡¯s a joke.¡±

    Just then, my number was called. I walked over to the designated mat, noticing Ryuto already there, his expression a mix of anger and determination. I couldn¡¯t tell if he was personally offended on Yuki¡¯s behalf or just duty-bound by his loyalty to her and her high standing in the sect. Oh, maybe he has a crush on her. This is your chance to impress her, make it count.

    As I stepped onto the mat, the referee began his spiel, outlining the rules we¡¯d already memorized. Ryuto didn¡¯t waste any time with pleasantries; his intense gaze was fixed on me, promising a bout filled with more than just physical strikes.

    "Alright, fighters ready?" the referee asked, his hand poised to signal the start. I nodded, my focus narrowing to the space between us.

    As I settled into my stance across from Ryuto, I took a moment to size him up. Ryuto''s posture was rigid, almost textbook perfect, which told me he was well-trained but perhaps too reliant on formal techniques. His eyes were sharp, focused, an indication of his determination or maybe just his anger from our earlier interaction.

    Ryuto¡¯s feet were evenly spaced, a stable and balanced setup, but his weight seemed to favor his front foot. Aggressive, likely to initiate with a forward move.

    His hands, though, were slightly trembling. Was it adrenaline, nerves, or sheer rage? Either way, it could lead to premature moves, something I could exploit. I recalled Chronos mimicking opponents during our training, showing how slight tremors could indicate a readiness to strike or a feint.

    His breathing was steady but deep, measured, trying perhaps too hard to control the build-up of his energy. "Controlled breathing can mean controlled aura," Chronos would say, "but over-control can make you predictable." This was my cue. If I could disrupt his rhythm, I could throw him off.

    I also noted the way his gaze occasionally flicked to my hands, then back to my eyes. He was trying to predict my strikes, anticipate my strategy. Good, let him try.

    As the referee¡¯s hand dropped, signaling the start, Ryuto wasted no time. He surged forward with surprising speed, a stark contrast to the controlled posture he¡¯d maintained moments before. His first strike, a well-aimed jab, came faster than I expected, forcing me to block rather than dodge. The impact rattled through my guard, a clear demonstration of his power.

    I tried to counter with a jab of my own to gauge his reflexes, but Ryuto was already moving, his footwork swift and precise. Before I could reset, he launched a combination of quick strikes, each one progressively closer to breaking through my defense.

    The crowd¡¯s murmurs grew louder as Ryuto''s intensity increased. His next move, a powerful side kick, caught me off guard. The force was enough to push me back, and with a tactical sweep of his leg, he sent me stumbling out of the ring. The referee paused the match, signaling for me to return.

    As I climbed back onto the mat, a rush of excitement surged through me. The unexpected challenge, the feel of the crowd''s energy, it was invigorating.

    Ryuto spoke, ¡°I expected more. I guess giving you a lesson for the disrespect you showed is going to be easier than I thought.¡± I couldn¡¯t help it; a huge smile spread across my face. Ryuto raised an eyebrow but didn¡¯t say anything further, he got back into a fighting stance waiting for the ref to start the next round.

    The referee¡¯s whistle pierced the air, and the next round began. Ryuto''s confidence was evident in his stance, perhaps thinking his early success would easily carry through. But this time, I was ready. As he advanced, I focused on the minute shifts in his muscles and the set of his shoulders, reading him.

    I see it~

    Ryuto launched a flurry of punches, each aimed with precision and force. But now, I danced around them with a nimbleness that drew cheers from the crowd. My body moved instinctively, ducking and weaving through his assault, each dodge building my confidence.

    Then came a technique I hadn¡¯t seen before, a low spinning sweep aimed to knock my legs out from under me. Instead of jumping away, I decided to block it, using the opportunity to study the movement up close. As I absorbed the impact on my forearms, the technique clicked in my mind like a puzzle piece finding its rightful place.

    Emboldened, I began to use Ryuto¡¯s movements myself, mirroring his techniques with slight variations. Each successful block and counter brought a new level of understanding, and soon I was not just reacting but anticipating, predicting his every move.

    As the match progressed, it became a chess game of strikes and counters. With each passing moment, I adapted more of Ryuto¡¯s techniques, weaving them into my arsenal. The crowd''s energy swelled, their cheers a rhythmic backdrop to the symphony of our combat.

    Ryuto¡¯s frustration grew with every exchange. His initial smug assurance faded as he realized that not only was I holding my own, but I was also turning his own techniques against him. The realization dawned on him slowly, his eyes widening as he recognized his moves in my counters.

    ¡°Masaka,¡± he muttered under his breath after I mirrored a particularly complex combo he had introduced earlier in the fight.

    With a grin, I stepped back, giving him a moment to reassess. ¡°Your moves are good,¡± I called out, bouncing lightly on the balls of my feet, ¡°but I think they suit me better.¡±

    I do have to admit though, Chronos never taught me anything besides the basics and that simple combo. I was irritated at first with the fact he refused to show me anything more. But after I was told I was participating in this contest and now having this encounter, it made me realize something. I wasn''t here to compete, I was here to steal every single technique these contestants had to offer. This wasn''t a test of my strength, it was a feast handed out to me on a silver platter.

 Chapter 19 - Semifinals

    I can¡¯t believe I basically wasted my whole day on fighting randoms when I should have just seeked out the people who clearly looked like they were behind some big names. I feel so damn stupid not thinking about it. As the referee signaled the start of the next round, I shifted my weight from foot to foot, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline.

    Ryuto advanced with determination, his eyes narrowing as he tried to regain the upper hand. His attacks were quick, a series of sharp jabs and low kicks aimed to destabilize me. But I was ready. Each of his moves was a memory, each strike a lesson I had already learned. I dodged, sidestepping a powerful roundhouse kick, and countered with a swift jab to his midsection, using his momentum against him.

    Show me some more~

    I continued with the back and forth, trying to get him to show me more of his techniques. He threw an attack, I dodged and gave a counter. Rinse and repeat.

    Ryuto¡¯s frustration mounted with every maneuver he attempted and every counter I deployed. I could see it in the tightening of his jaw and the increasingly desperate flurries of his attacks. Despite this, I couldn''t help but smile, this was exactly what I had been looking for all day.

    His next sequence caught my attention, it was different, more refined than his previous efforts. A beautifully executed feint that led into a spinning back kick. It was a risky move that left him momentarily exposed, but the technique was solid, revealing a level of training that went beyond the basics.

    I barely managed to block in time, the impact sending a shudder up my arms. "That¡¯s a nice one," I muttered, genuinely impressed. I used the moment his balance faltered to press my advantage, intensifying my attacks to test his defenses further, seeking any sign of weakness.

    Suddenly, he unveiled another move. Ryuto lowered his body, feigning a lower body uppercut, then surged forward, his body flipping with one leg arrowing upward in an axe kick. I sidestepped, anticipating the trajectory, but to my surprise, he altered the kick mid-air, spinning his body to transform the move into a sweeping leg attack.

    The fluidity and unexpected change in his technique took me momentarily off guard, reinforcing my need to remain vigilant and adaptable. Each move he made was just a beautiful meal handed to me to consume.

    As Ryuto regained his footing and prepared for another assault, I felt a spark of inspiration, a quick study of his last few maneuvers now burned bright in my mind. I had memorized the muscle movements, the shift in weight, the exact timing. It was my turn to take the initiative.

    Mirroring his earlier feint, I executed a spinning back kick with precision, mimicking his form to a tee. The surprise on Ryuto''s face was evident as he barely managed to dodge, his eyes widening in recognition of his own moves being used against him.

    "Ah so this is what made you so confident," I taunted lightly, keeping the mood competitive but friendly. ¡°I want to try something.¡±

    I pushed forward, adopting the hybrid stance he had shown me, my body lowering in anticipation of replicating the axe kick. As I flipped into the kick, I watched Ryuto instinctively move to the sidestep, just as I had.

    But this time, I added my twist, mid-air, I switched directions, converting the axe kick into a sweeping motion aimed not where he initially stood but where he would likely retreat. It was a gamble, relying on his reaction to my earlier observations.

    Ryuto stumbled, unprepared for the sudden change, his leg caught by mine as I completed the sweep. He landed hard on the mat, the thud echoing slightly in the sudden silence of our audience. The referee then called a stop to the second round, allowing us both a moment to regroup.

    Ryuto looked at me with a mixture of shock and confusion, clearly taken aback by how quickly I had adapted his technique. I couldn''t help but grin, the thrill of the challenge making me feel like I''d just discovered a hidden cheesecake in the fridge when I¡¯m sneaking into the kitchen at 12 AM.

    Turning to head back to my corner, I noticed Chronos standing there, inexplicably donning a flat cap and a towel draped over one shoulder, his arms crossed. He nodded his approval, playing the part of a stereotypical boxing coach. Where he got the hat, I had no idea, but his pose made me stifle a laugh.

    This is martial arts, shouldn¡¯t you instead have your hands behind your back and give subtle nods?

    Chronos caught my amused glance and just shrugged, as if to say, "Why not have a little fun with it?"

    The referee signaled the start of the next round, I reset my stance, energized by the growing crowd¡¯s renewed murmurs. I felt a renewed focus sharpen my senses. Ryuto, slightly winded and visibly more cautious, eyed me warily as he circled, likely reconsidering his approach.

    He attempted to regain control, launching a swift combination that had caught previous opponents off-guard. This time, I was ready. I parried his jab, sidestepped his follow-up kick, and, mirroring his earlier technique, launched into the spinning back kick I had just learned from him. The move connected solidly, sending him staggering back towards the edge of the mat.

    Ryuto recovered quickly, his expression hardening as he now completely understood I was now using his own techniques against him. He charged forward, perhaps out of frustration or the desperate hope to overpower me before I could mimic any more of his style.

    As he came in, I ducked under a wide hook and countered with the modified axe kick to leg sweep combo I had observed. The sweep wasn¡¯t as polished as his, but it was effective enough to throw him off balance. As he tried to stabilize, I used the momentum to execute a takedown, grounding him with a firm hold.

    The referee quickly intervened, signaling the end of the match as Ryuto found himself unable to break free from my hold. The crowd erupted into cheers and applause, some in shock at the turn of events, others thrilled by the display of skill and adaptability.

    I extended a hand to help Ryuto to his feet, offering a nod. "Good match," I said, hoping to smooth over any tension.

    He looked at me, disbelief in his eyes, and finally nodded back, "I owe you an apology for my earlier remarks," he admitted, bowing deeply. "The Hidden Leaf School teaches us to recognize our shortcomings and learn from our losses. Thank you for this lesson; I will reflect on our bout."

    I raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised by his formality. "I¡¯m glad we could learn from each other," I responded, mirroring his bow with a fist pressed to my palm.

    Straightening up, he added, "I was unaware you were versed in the Hidden Leaf techniques. Had I known, I might have approached this differently."

    That explained his initial overconfidence. Whether he truly believed it would have changed the outcome or not, he seemed keen on maintaining some dignity. "Right¡­" I replied, managing an awkward smile.

    "I wish you good luck in the semifinals," Ryuto said, bowing again before returning to his group. As I watched him go, I caught a few icy stares from his entourage, but I shrugged them off.

    Turning back to Chronos, I found him removing his theatrical cap, grinning broadly. "Now this is what I was hoping to see."

    "It¡¯s clear why you wanted me in this competition," I remarked. "This was to give me a taste of martial arts at my level, wasn''t it?"

    "Ding ding ding, correct!" Chronos slapped my back, his eyes twinkling with pride. "It pained me to see those dagger looks you gave me when I withheld new techniques."

    ¡°Can you blame me? I wanted to learn from you directly, but you kept putting me off with ''once you awaken, we can talk.''¡±

    Chronos¡¯s smile turned wistful. ¡°Patience, Rai. All in good time. For now, let¡¯s focus on getting you through to the semifinals.¡±

    The semifinals were set on a grander stage. With fewer competitors left, the organizers had removed the extra mats, leaving only the central one illuminated under the arena lights. The crowd had swelled, filling the stands with a buzz of anticipation. Among them, I spotted several figures who stood out with their poised demeanors and keen observations, clearly Ascendants or martial masters, likely scouting talent for their respective guilds or schools.

    Just as the atmosphere started to thicken with the weight of impending bouts, Chronos excused himself. "Be right back, need to use the restroom," he muttered, picking an inconvenient time as usual.

    No sooner had he stepped away than I felt the space around me compress with the presence of several individuals approaching. Somewhere solo, exuding an air of authority and interest, while others came in small groups, whispering among themselves before turning their attention to me.

    "Raiden Alaric, right?" one of them, a tall woman with sharp eyes and a badge indicating her affiliation with the Silver Crane School, addressed me directly. "I''ve been watching your matches. Impressive adaptability."

    "Thank you," I responded, trying to keep my composure despite feeling slightly cornered without Chronos''s familiar presence to fend off such interactions.

    Another, a robust man adorned with symbols of the Tiger''s Paw Guild, chimed in with a grin that was all teeth. "Not just adaptable, but clever too. How would you like to consider an offer to train with us? We specialize in enhancing natural talents, turning them into unbeatable skills."

    Before I could formulate a reply, a third voice cut through, smoother and more controlled. "He hasn''t even finished the tournament, and you''re already trying to claim him," said a lean individual in dark robes, his insignia a subtle nod to the Shadowed Path sect. "Let the boy breathe."

    I managed a half-smile, feeling the pull of their words like tides trying to sweep me into their currents. It was flattering, yet overwhelming. "I appreciate the interest, really," I said, taking a step back to regain some personal space. "But I think I should focus on today''s matches before thinking about anything else."

    They nodded, some more reluctantly than others, and receded just as Chronos made his way back, eyeing the dispersing crowd with a raised eyebrow. "Making friends or turning down offers?" he joked, clapping me on the shoulder.

    "No they were all just flirting with me, can¡¯t resist my dashing good looks," I laughed, watching the arena floor as the preparations for the semifinals were finalized. "I suppose I should start getting used to that kind of attention after I awaken, huh?"

    ¡°Without a doubt,¡± he said. ¡°Once you awaken and attend an academy it¡¯s like a masters degree to recruiters. Even more so if you get into one of the bigger academies.¡±

    ¡°I noticed you had an Elysium hoodie on when we met. Did you attend there?¡±

    He shook his head, ¡°No, I know plenty of people who had attended and even some who teach there.¡±

    ¡°Oh? Does this mean I have an in if I decide to attend?¡± I wiggled my eyebrows and nudged him with my shoulder.

    ¡°Ha, you wish. There¡¯s no way I¡¯m going to give you the easy path.¡± He clapped my shoulder, ¡°I will be sure everything you obtain is earned, not given.¡±

    I shrugged my shoulders, ¡°Well can¡¯t blame a guy for trying.¡±

    ¡°Speaking of earning,¡± Chronos continued as he surveyed the now busy arena, ¡°this next match is going to be quite the show. You¡¯ve got some serious competition coming up.¡±

    I glanced towards the mat, where the previous contestants were clearing off and the next pair was already setting up. Among them was my opponent, an elf girl shorter than me. She was clad in a green robe adorned with a family insignia, a clear sign she hailed from a renowned family sect. Her long blonde hair, typical of her kind, was tied back in a tight ponytail, swaying slightly as she moved with the elegant, almost ethereal grace unique to elves. Her eyes were a striking deep green, almost mirroring the bold green nail polish that decorated her elongated, delicate fingers, a typical trait of her race. I found myself wondering if the vivid color was intentional, perhaps a subtle tactic to distract her opponents.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    As I surveyed the crowd and the contestants warming up, I noticed a surprising number of female participants. Turning to Chronos, I asked, "Hey so I didn¡¯t really think about it until now but, why are there so many girls at this contest? Doesn¡¯t seem like the usual breakdown."

    Chronos followed my gaze, nodding slightly. "Ah, you¡¯ve picked up on that. In most sports, men and women compete separately due to physical differences, but here, it''s different. These martial arts competitions have started to blend the categories. The reason is simple: once competitors awaken, those physical disparities tend to even out. Their aura doesn''t care about gender."

    I considered his words, looking back at the participants. "So, they¡¯re just ripping off the band-aid early, huh? Getting everyone used to competing against each other now because the biological differences won¡¯t matter later?"

    "Exactly," Chronos affirmed. "It¡¯s about skill, strategy, and your aura''s capabilities. Here, everyone is on a more equal footing once they awaken. Plus, it prepares them for real-world situations. No one''s going to care about gender if you''re in a skirmish or a mission."

    I nodded, understanding the practicality behind the decision. It was a leveling of the playing field in the most literal sense, and it gave everyone, regardless of gender, a fair shot to showcase their skills and adaptability.

    "Fair enough," I muttered.

    As I waited for my turn, I watched a match between two skilled contenders, both demonstrating an array of complex maneuvers. One technique caught my eye, a fluid, spiraling dodge that ended in a swift, powerful counterattack. The fighter''s body moved with such grace and precision that it seemed almost effortless.

    I leaned in, trying to dissect each movement. The dodge involved a twisting motion that not only avoided the attack but also positioned the fighter perfectly to exploit his opponent¡¯s now exposed side. It was clever, using the opponent''s momentum against them.

    I wanna fight him.

    I rubbed my chin, intrigued. "Chronos, did you see that? How he spun around? What¡¯s that move called?"

    Chronos glanced at the mat, then back at me. "That¡¯s a variant of the whirlwind counter. It¡¯s all about timing and positioning. By rotating away from the attack, you use the attacker''s force to your advantage, setting them off balance while you prepare for a counterstrike."

    "Interesting," I muttered, filing the move away in my mental arsenal. I didn¡¯t fully grasp the mechanics from just watching, I needed to feel it, experience the motion and the precise timing myself to truly understand and mimic it. But it gave me something new to think about, a puzzle to work out later.

    As the match concluded, I clapped along with the crowd, impressed yet frustrated. Seeing such skills in action was inspiring, yet it underscored my own limitations from the sidelines. "I need to try that out," I murmured, more to myself than to Chronos.

    Finally, my number was called, and I made my way to the mat where my next opponent was already waiting. It was an elf girl I had noticed earlier, the one with the long blonde hair tied back in a ponytail. Her deep green eyes focused intently on me, and even her green nail polish seemed to catch the light in a way that was almost distracting.

    I should have put money on it.

    As I approached the center of the mat, I tried to keep my thoughts organized, remembering the whirlwind counter I had just observed. "Interesting choice with the nail polish," I commented, hoping to gauge her reaction and maybe knock her off her mental game for a moment.

    She simply smiled, not taking the bait. "It¡¯s not for distraction, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re thinking. It''s a family tradition. We wear green during competitions. Good luck, Raiden."

    She knows my name?

    The referee brought us to the center, and as we bowed to each other, I felt the tension tighten. The crowd¡¯s murmurs faded into the background, leaving only the sound of our breathing and the soft shuffle of our feet on the mat.

    "Ready?" the referee asked. We both nodded, and the match began.

    She was quick, her movements sharp and deliberate. As we exchanged blows, I found myself on the defensive more than I liked. She used a combination of swift jabs and calculated footwork to keep me off balance, her technique polished and precise.

    It was during one of her aggressive advances that I saw an opportunity. Recalling the whirlwind counter, I attempted to mimic the motion, spinning to use her momentum against her. However, my execution was rough since I didn¡¯t get to experience it first hand. I managed to avoid her strike but missed the chance to counter effectively.

    She paused, a slight frown on her face, then launched into another series of attacks, this time with increased intensity. I needed to adapt quickly, to turn the tide before I found myself completely overwhelmed.

    As we reset our stances, I wiped a bead of sweat from my brow and looked at her curiously. "You know my name, so I¡¯m assuming we met before?" I asked casually.

    She shook her head with a slight chuckle, her ponytail swaying gently. "No, we haven¡¯t met personally. But you¡¯ve made quite a name for yourself today, Raiden Alaric. It¡¯s hard not to notice when someone causes as much stir as you have."

    I nodded, accepting her explanation but still feeling a twinge of suspicion about how closely she or perhaps others had been watching. It reminded me that in a competition like this, eyes were everywhere, and every action was scrutinized. "I want to say I understand but I have no clue what it is I did to ¡®cause any stir¡¯," I responded with a half-smile, readying myself for the next exchange. "Oh well we can talk about it after the competition, you like froyo?"

    She mirrored my smile, her eyes glinting with competitive spirit. "Oh? Asking me on a date so soon? We only just met," she said, and then without warning, lunged forward, initiating another fast-paced flurry of moves.

    Wait just a minute, did¡­ did I see her ears twitch?

    Her move caught me off guard, not because it was unexpected, but because of the smooth way she shifted from our playful banter to serious competition in a heartbeat. "Is this how you respond to confessions?" I grunted, parrying her rapid strikes, each one sharper than the last. "I''ll take that as a maybe!"

    Ducking under a particularly swift roundhouse kick, I couldn''t help but appreciate the skill she displayed. It was clear she wasn''t just any competitor; her form was impeccable, each move deliberate and calculated to test my defenses.

    I am going to steal everything you have.

    As we danced around the mat, her style became a puzzle I was eager to solve. She mixed traditional martial arts with unpredictable feints, keeping me on my toes. "You¡¯re not making this easy," I panted, finding an opening to counterattack, aiming a controlled jab towards her shoulder.

    "Wouldn''t want to," she replied breathlessly, dodging with a fluid movement that brought her momentarily closer. "Where''s the fun in that?"

    Then her demeanor shifted dramatically. The playful banter ceased instantly as she launched into a full-on assault, her strikes flowing into a grapple that caught me by surprise. As she maneuvered to lock in a hold, my perception of time seemed to dilate. Each second stretched longer as my adrenaline surged, sharpening my focus to a razor''s edge.

    Her technique was refined, each movement layered with practiced skill and intent. As she tried to pin me down, my training with Chronos kicked in, and my mind raced to decode her strategy, every muscle and shift in balance under scrutiny. This was it, the challenge I craved, the kind of fight that set my blood alight with excitement.

    I couldn''t suppress the grin that spread across my face, nor the chuckle that escaped me despite our tangled struggle. "Now we''re talking!" I exclaimed, my voice bubbling with laughter even as I started to counter her moves. Each of her attempts to secure a hold became a lesson I absorbed instantly, turning her tactics back against her with my rapidly adapting style.

    She tightened her grip, perhaps sensing my growing confidence, but it only fueled my exhilaration further. I twisted, leveraging my body against hers, using her own momentum to break free. The crowd''s noise faded into the background, replaced by the thumping of my heart and the crisp sound of our movements on the mat.

    As we separated, I bounced back on the balls of my feet, ready for her next move, my laughter mingling with the breathless intensity of the match. "Come on, show me more!" I urged, eager to push the limits of what we could both draw out of this encounter.

    Her eyes flickered with a mix of surprise and renewed determination, a silent acknowledgment of the challenge accepted. She lunged again, and our dance resumed, a whirlwind of motion that tested every reflex and skill I possessed.

    The match intensified as she adjusted her tactics, likely realizing that standard moves wouldn''t suffice. She launched a series of low sweeps aimed to destabilize, followed by high, precise kicks, each designed to catch an opponent off-guard. But with each attack, I felt less like her opponent and more like a student eagerly absorbing every lesson offered.

    Her footwork was exceptional, a blend of traditional martial arts and something uniquely her own, likely developed from her family''s teachings. As she spun, her leg arced through the air in a high kick aimed directly at my head. I ducked under it, but instead of merely evading, I mirrored the movement, my body instinctively copying the fluidity of her kick. The crowd gasped, some in awe, others in shock, as I used her own technique against her, my leg sweeping up in a near-perfect replica of her attack.

    She stumbled back, eyes widening in realization that her techniques were not only being countered but replicated and adapted on the fly. "Impressive," she muttered, reassessing her approach but keeping her stance aggressive.

    I couldn''t help but grin, the thrill of the challenge pushing me further. "You''re not bad yourself," I replied. "Don¡¯t stop now, keep it up, show me more!"

    Using the momentum from our exchange, I initiated a sequence we had drilled in training, a deceptive move that started as a feint to the left, followed by a swift, pivoting strike to the right. It was a technique I''d seen used by another competitor earlier in the day, one that I had mentally noted but hadn''t had the chance to test out until now.

    Her reaction was quick, but not quick enough to completely dodge the strike. The impact was light, more of a tap to confirm I could make contact than a full-powered hit, but it sent a clear message.

    As we circled each other, waiting for an opening, I continued to weave her techniques into my movements, each one a building block in my rapidly expanding arsenal. She attempted a grappling maneuver, likely aiming to take the fight to the ground where she could leverage her jiu-jitsu training.

    But grappling was Chronos''s bread and butter, and through his rigorous training, I''d become adept at turning such situations to my advantage. He wouldn¡¯t show me any combat but he did not shy away in the slightest when it came to grappling and wrestling.

    ¡°Grappling and throwing a punch are different things, so don¡¯t give me that look.¡± I thought back to what he said after I had asked him why he would should me this and not spar with me.

    As she reached for my arm, I sidestepped, redirecting her momentum and using her own force to spin her off-balance. Before I could go any further the end of the first round was ended by the sound of a whistle. The crowd shouted after seeing our exchange. I could feel the gazes of many individuals.

    As she staggered slightly from the unexpected redirection, I flashed a grin, both acknowledging the round''s end and signaling my readiness for whatever came next. "You¡¯re pretty awesome," I called across to her, my voice echoing slightly in the suddenly quiet arena, filled only with the murmurs of an impressed audience.

    She nodded, a wry smile breaking through her initially stern facade. "You''re not too shabby yourself, Raiden. Didn¡¯t expect you to pick up on my techniques so quickly," she admitted, her tone mixed with respect and a challenge for the rounds to come.

    The brief interlude between rounds felt like a charged pause, giving both of us a moment to reassess and plan. I used the time to mentally review the techniques she had used, integrating them with what I¡¯ve obtained. Each move, each counterplay I envisioned, sharpened my focus for the next bout.

    As the referee called us back to the center, the anticipation was palpable. I could see the determination set in her eyes, a mirror of my own resolve. The crowd seemed to lean in closer, their excitement building as the second round commenced.

    This time, I initiated the engagement, employing a feint that Chronos had drilled into me until it had become second nature. Her reaction was swift, but this time I was ahead, anticipating her block and countering with an improvised move that blended her own strategy with the techniques I had absorbed from watching others throughout the day.

    The dance of our fight drew cheers and gasps from the crowd, each of us pushing the limits of our training. With every move and counter, I felt a thrill, the pure joy of testing my skills in real combat, under the scrutinizing eyes of potential mentors and rivals alike.

    As the round progressed, our exchanges grew more intense. Then, she landed a hit, a sharp jab that I hadn¡¯t seen coming, its impact jolting through me. The surprise of the contact sent a rush of adrenaline surging through my veins, and I couldn¡¯t help it. I started laughing, the sound mingling with the roars of the crowd. The thrill of the challenge, the sheer joy of the fight, it was all I had been craving.

    I tasted blood in my mouth, the smile on my face refusing to fade. I shifted my stance, now I¡¯m going on the offensive. She came at me again, her movements a blur of speed and precision, but this time I was ready. As she attempted another grapple, likely aiming to use her momentum to force me down, I countered, using her own force against her.

    Let¡¯s wrap this up.

    Stepping aside as she lunged forward, I seized the opportunity to counter her momentum. In a fluid motion, I managed to maneuver behind her, hooking my arm around hers. Guiding her to the mat, I carefully positioned her on her side while securing her arm in a kimura lock. With my grip firm but controlled, I applied gradual pressure, ensuring her arm was bent behind her back in the submission.

    Pinned beneath me, her options dwindled rapidly as the realization of her precarious situation set in. The crowd''s roar became a distant hum as we reached a few seconds of tense stillness on the mat. Recognizing the futility and risk of further resistance, she gave a firm tap against my arm, signaling her submission. The referee was quick to respond, stepping in to officially end the bout, his call echoing over the loud cheers and shocked murmurs of the crowd. This match was my win.

    As I released the hold and helped her to her feet, the intensity of the match lingered in the air. "Good match," I said, offering a respectful nod, acknowledging her skill and the challenge she presented. She nodded back, a flicker of respect passing between us despite the outcome.

    She turned away and began walking. As I began to do the same she tossed a remark over her shoulder, ¡°Well since you won, I guess you are taking me out for froyo?¡±

    I almost froze at her words, but because I didn¡¯t I decided to play it cool, ¡°Since you managed to find my name, I¡¯m sure you can find a way to get my number too.¡±

    She stopped, turning back with a playful smirk that matched my own. "Well in that case, I¡¯ll talk to you soon," she said, before continuing on her way, leaving a trail of laughter behind her.

    As I made my way to Chronos he slapped me on my back again, ¡°My man.¡±

    I smiled and flexed my hands, ¡°It was a good fight, a really good fight. I wanted to keep going.¡±

    He raised an eyebrow, ¡°Huh? Oh yeah the fight was great, I was talking about your new elf friend there. So when should I start calling her Mrs. Al-.¡±

    "Oh look, it¡¯s Yuki! Let¡¯s watch her match," I quickly diverted, eager to avoid further teasing.

 The Veritas Vault - Legacy and Lineage: The Power and Prestige of Family Clans

    <h2>Welcome, Seeker (37,154,213) [UID: E-J2770]</h2>

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    <blockquote>

    Legacy and Lineage: The Power and Prestige of Family Clans

    Veritas Vault Entry - Article #7283, Revision 13

    </blockquote>

    Introduction to Family Clans

    Family Clans represent powerful alliances of individuals bound by blood and Aura. Each clan is renowned not only for its ancestral heritage but also for its mastery in specific forms of martial arts that channel the essence of Aura. Clans vary in racial composition, including Humans, Elves, Dryads, and Beastkin, each contributing unique attributes to their martial prowess and Aura manipulation.

    <hr>

    The Influence of Clans

    Clans exert substantial influence across various realms, from Earth to mystical worlds like Eldoria and Lycania. They shape economies, govern lands, and lead cultural movements. Their mastery of Aura-enhanced martial arts also makes them formidable protectors or adversaries, depending on their alliances and objectives.

    <hr>

    Notable Family Clans

    Here are seven of the most influential and respected Family Clans, each distinct in their abilities and heritage:

    The Steelhart Clan

    Realm: Earth

    Race: Human

    Founder: Sir Gregor Steelhart (Deceased)

    Current Head: Lady Elara Steelhart (Rank: White)

    Influence: Known for their military prowess and strategic innovations in warfare.

    Notable Contribution: Created the "Iron Phalanx" tactic, integrating Aura shielding with traditional military strategies, and founded the Citadel of Valor, a premier military academy.

    The Brightwater Clan

    Realm: Earth

    Race: Human

    Founder: Marin Brightwater (Alive)

    Current Head: Sorin Brightwater (Rank: Yellow)

    Influence: Celebrated for their diplomatic skills and central role in trade and peace negotiations.

    Notable Contribution: Instrumental in the establishment of the Earth Peace Accords and pioneers of the Aura-Enhanced Diplomacy Program.

    The Arindale Clan

    Realm: Eldoria

    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.Race: Elf (High)

    Founder: Aldric Arindale (Deceased)

    Current Head: Emeric Arindale (Rank: White)

    Influence: Renowned for their tactical mastery in battle, integrating Aura with classical war strategies.

    Notable Contribution: Founders of the Eldorian War School, blending Aura techniques with ancient martial arts.

    The Verrow Clan

    Realm: Earth

    Race: Dryad

    Founder: Sylvana Verrow (Alive)

    Current Head: Thalia Verrow (Rank: Yellow)

    Influence: Experts in botanical Aura manipulation, using it to enhance growth and heal lands.

    Notable Contribution: Creators of the Verdant Revival techniques, which have revitalized countless dying forests.

    The Lumistral Clan

    Realm: Celathandria

    Race: Elf (High)

    Founder: Lorien Lumistral (Deceased)

    Current Head: Seraphina Lumistral (Rank: White)

    Influence: Pioneers in blending elemental Aura with high magic, setting the foundations for magical academia.

    Notable Contribution: Established the Celathandrian Magical Assembly, a pivotal institution in magical research.

    The Orion Clan

    Realm: Earth

    Race: Dwarf

    Founder: Borin Orion (Deceased)

    Current Head: Garrick Orion (Rank: White)

    Influence: Their forges produce the finest Aura-infused weaponry, blending metallurgy with martial mastery.

    Notable Contribution: Inventors of Aura Alloy, a metal that enhances the bearer''s physical and Aura abilities.

    The Windwalker Clan

    Realm: Lycania

    Race: Beastkin (Wolf)

    Founder: Fenrir Windwalker (Alive)

    Current Head: Lyra Windwalker (Rank: Yellow)

    Influence: Masters of wind Aura, utilizing it in high-speed martial arts.

    Notable Contribution: Developers of the Gale Fist style, a martial art that uses bursts of Aura for rapid, powerful strikes.

    The Silvershade Clan

    Realm: Celathandria

    Race: Elf (Dark)

    Founder: Artemis Silvershade (Deceased)

    Current Head: Orion Silvershade (Rank: White)

    Influence: Specializes in stealth and shadow manipulation using Aura, essential for espionage and protection.

    Notable Contribution: Founders of the Shadowmeld Academy, training spies and scouts in the arts of invisibility and silent movement.

    The Earthsong Clan

    Realm: Earth

    Race: Dryad

    Founder: Gaia Earthsong (Alive)

    Current Head: Tarn Earthsong (Rank: Yellow)

    Influence: Known for their deep connection with the earth, using Aura to cause seismic shifts and grow mineral-rich formations.

    Notable Contribution: Pioneered the Geomantic Rituals, which have been crucial in preventing natural disasters.

    <hr>

    The Role of Clans in Society

    Family Clans not only serve as cultural and economic pillars but also as custodians of martial and mystical arts through the manipulation of Aura. Their influence is deeply interwoven with the stability and development of their respective realms, making them integral to both peacekeeping and wartime strategies.

    <hr>

    A Final Thought

    The myriad Family Clans, with their rich traditions and deep-rooted powers, form the backbone of our realms. Each clan, through its unique relationship with Aura and martial practices, not only upholds its legacy but actively shapes the political, cultural, and spiritual landscapes of their worlds. As pillars of their communities, they bear the responsibility to guide and protect, ensuring that their strength benefits all. The exploration of these clans offers invaluable insights into the complexities of power, heritage, and the delicate balance of inter-clan dynamics.

    <hr>

    <blockquote>

    Veritas Automated Recommendation:

    </blockquote>

    Inter-Clan Mediation Measures

    Veritas Vault Addendum - Article #7295, Revision 14

    <hr>

    Recommendation: Preventing Clan Conflicts

    To mitigate inter-clan tensions, the establishment of an Inter-Clan Mediation Board is recommended. This board will facilitate dialogue and resolve disputes among clans, ensuring peace and stability. Additionally, implementing the Aura Accord will regulate the use of Aura, preventing its misuse in power struggles.

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    Closing article...

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    This article was verified and contributed by the Ascendants Association to ensure accuracy and uphold the highest standards of our Universe.

 Chapter 20 - The Finals

    Raiden Alaric

    As I redirected our attention to the ongoing matches, Yuki was already on the mat, poised and ready. She faced her opponent with a calm expression. Unfazed by the size of her opponent.

    Yuki''s opponent was noticeably taller, with a broad stance that suggested a power-based fighting style and potentially a grappler. Yuki, however, remained unfazed, her eyes sharp and calculating. I hate the fact she looked cool as fuck. She gave me a brief glance while adjusting her sleeves, as if telling me, ¡°Watch this match, to understand who you have disrespected.¡±

    Oh I¡¯m watching, don¡¯t you worry.

    The referee signaled the start, Yuki''s calm demeanor held steady against her larger opponent. She didn''t flinch or falter, instead, she took a measured step back, her eyes never leaving him.

    "Watch her footwork," Chronos murmured beside me, his gaze fixed intently on the match. ¡°Also watch her eyes.¡±

    Indeed, Yuki''s movements were a blur of precision and grace. Every step she took seemed calculated to align perfectly with her opponent''s. When he lunged, she sidestepped with minimal effort, her counterattacks sharp and targeted. She exploited every opening with a surgeon''s precision, each strike punctuated by the crowd''s gasps.

    Her speed was not just reactive but anticipatory. She seemed to move in sync with her opponent''s thoughts, always a beat ahead. When he attempted a heavy grapple, thinking his reach and strength would overpower her, Yuki turned his momentum against him. With a swift pivot, she redirected his energy, sending him stumbling forward from his own failed grab.

    "There, see that?" Chronos pointed out as Yuki executed a series of quick jabs that found their mark before her opponent could fully recover his stance. "She uses her speed to control the pace and flow of the fight. It''s not about overpowering, it''s about outmaneuvering."

    Her eyes are also always locked onto any of his moving limbs that extend past a certain point.

    I noticed traces of techniques Ryuto had used, but Yuki elevated them. She wove them into her style seamlessly, enhancing them with rapid-fire executions that Ryuto hadn¡¯t managed. Her ability to adapt and integrate different martial arts principles was evident, making her a formidable force in the ring.

    She''s¡­ incredible.

    I couldn''t help but marvel at Yuki¡¯s mastery over her movements. Each step she took was not just a move, but a calculated decision, positioning her strategically within her opponent''s reach yet always just out of danger. Her eyes were intensely focused, not on his face, but on his limbs, watching for any extension that signaled an incoming grapple.

    Finally, seizing an opportune moment when her opponent overcommitted to a grapple, thinking to use his size to his advantage, Yuki executed a stunning maneuver. She feinted high, causing him to raise his arms in defense. Then, with a swift and fluid motion, she ducked low and swept her leg behind his, hooking it with precision. The move toppled him over with such smoothness and speed that it took a moment for the crowd to register what had happened.

    As her opponent hit the mat, the arena erupted in applause, their cheers reverberating with admiration for the skill displayed. Yuki didn¡¯t bask in the applause immediately; instead, she extended a hand to her opponent, helping him to his feet in a gesture of respect and sportsmanship that was met with an even louder applause. The referee¡¯s whistle split threw the air, ending the first round.

    I turned to Chronos, noting the way Yuki used her observations to predict her opponent''s next move. "She¡¯s not just reacting, she¡¯s anticipating based on their body movements, just like what I do, except¡­" I said, realizing the depth of skill involved.

    Chronos chuckled, ¡°Except you need to experience it once, she''s reading her opponent on the fly. She''s playing chess in a martial arts contest.¡±

    Yuki readied herself for the second round, her opponent, determined to regain some ground, charged at her with a burst of reckless energy as soon as the whistle blew. His approach was straightforward, a desperate attempt to leverage his size. But Yuki elegantly sidestepped his bullish advance, her movements precise and calm. She let her hand glide along his extended arm, subtly redirecting him past her, setting him off-balance.

    He spun around, attempting a forceful overhead punch, Yuki prepared to evade, however, the punch was a feint. In a swift pivot, he redirected his momentum into a kick aimed at her stomach, a solid, forceful strike that knocked the wind out of her. Not giving her a moment to recover, he dove in for a low grapple.

    Reacting with split-second decision-making, Yuki leaped into the air, executing a forward flip over him. She landed nimbly behind him and, without a pause, delivered a punishing heel kick to his jaw. The impact was audible, a crunch that echoed through the arena as a tooth was sent flying. The opponent''s body went limp, collapsing to the mat with a definitive thud, marking a dramatic end to the match.

    As the referee stepped in to confirm the knockout, the arena burst into a cacophony of cheers and applause. Yuki''s poise remained unshaken as she respectfully bowed towards her fallen opponent, acknowledging the fight with solemn dignity.

    I watched from the sidelines, adrenaline surged through me, fueled by Yuki''s decisive victory. I held a hand over my mouth in an attempt to hide my uncontrollable grin spreading across my face, stirred by the thrill of her clean, aggressive finish. "Chronos," I said, the excitement clear in my voice, "I need to fight her."

    Chronos leaned in as we observed Yuki celebrating. "Notice anything interesting about her, aside from the¡­ aggressive, finish?"

    I nodded, recalling a detail. "Yeah, she kept fiddling with her left sleeve a lot, both before and during the match. Seemed a bit odd."

    Chronos''s eyes twinkled with approval. "Good observation. That¡¯s not just a nervous tick. She¡¯s Awakened. Her bind is concealed under her sleeve on her left wrist. It''s subtle, but these details are crucial in understanding your opponent¡¯s capabilities."

    Surprised, I responded, "She¡¯s Awakened? So that means-"

    "Yes," he interrupted, nodding solemnly, "she has most likely been training with her awakened abilities in mind. Her body and reflexes have adapted to what a Green rank is capable of."

    Flabbergasted, I blurted out, "Isn¡¯t that illegal?"

    "Not at all," Chronos explained calmly. "At least not while she¡¯s Green rank. From the looks of it, she¡¯s been awakened for about a year. And since she wears a bind, she¡¯s restricted to what a normal human can physically achieve. The difference is that having aura flow through her body means she understands and controls her physical capabilities far beyond the average person, even on her worst days." He gestured around the arena, "There are about one hundred students here who are awakened. You''ve faced eight of them yourself."

    "I did?"

    "Yes, in fact, the first person you faced was one. So remember, being an Ascendant doesn¡¯t compensate for a lack of skill. Also every referee here is an Ascendant."

    Huh¡­ who would have thought.

    During the match, there was a brief moment that grabbed my attention. Her opponent pulled quick feints, Yuki hesitated, her normally steady gaze flickered, and her movement paused. It was a minor hiccup, almost imperceptible, but to me, it was like a neon sign. I filed that detail away in my mind.

    She usually reacts when her opponent''s limbs reach a certain distance. She¡¯s reading their body

    I also noticed that after she was caught off guard, she got aggravated and immediately went for a knockout to end the round, thus giving her the win. It wasn¡¯t a clear expression on her face since it was all in her eyes.

    She quickly regained her composure and ended the match decisively with a knockout. Watching her recover and clinch the win, I couldn¡¯t suppress a huge grin. The prospect of going up against her suddenly seemed even more enticing.

    ¡°But doesn''t a bind restrict her aura entirely?¡±

    Chronos nodded as I absorbed the implication of Yuki wearing a bind. "Correct. A bind, especially for someone in a competitive setting like this, is used to suppress their aura. This keeps them from accessing their full power inadvertently or unfairly. The fact that she''s using one suggests she has her aura well under control, a level of mastery not common among those who''ve just awakened."

    I frowned, trying to piece it together. "So, she''s holding back? Using less of her power on purpose?"

    "Right," Chronos confirmed. "She¡¯s training under restraint, which means when she is able to go all out without her bind, she¡¯s even more formidable. Think of it like your weight training with the Anchors. You wear heavier weights during practice, the day I let you take them off, you''re going to be much faster and stronger."

    "That¡¯s kind of intimidating," I admitted, glancing back at the mat where Yuki was now calmly discussing something with someone who seemed to be her instructor. He had a ponytail so who else could he be?

    I looked at my Anchors, and then realized that I''m basically on a limiter as well. I''m kind of hoping I get to take them off soon but, I won''t lie, this challenge is too much fun. Will I admit that to Chronos? Absolutely not.

    During the intermission, the crowd around me thickened. It was like everyone suddenly decided I was someone they needed to know. They came one after another, contestants, spectators, coaches from various schools and sects, each handshake heavier with expectations than the last.

    Trying to keep track of all the names and affiliations was like trying to remember lines from a movie I hadn''t seen. The chatter about techniques and potential opportunities was endless. It felt less like small talk and more like they were all subtly trying to recruit or size me up.

    Jeez if this is before I awaken, I don''t want to think about what it would be like after.

    Off to one side, Chronos was casually observing the chaos around me, a manga opened in his hand pretending he''s occupied .

    "Chronos!" I called out, half-hoping he''d pull me out of this social whirlpool. He glanced over, a smirk touching his lips as if my discomfort was the most entertaining part of his day. He just gave me a thumbs up.

    I sighed, turning back to the crowd with a resigned smile. As much as I wanted to escape, Chronos was right. This was just another kind of training. With a deep breath, I dove back into the conversations, all while Chronos watched from the sidelines, the mentor letting his student learn the hard way.

    I managed a smile and a nod through yet another introduction, the sea of people around me parted suddenly, like the crowd was giving way to royalty. Through the clearing came a figure I recognized immediately from the emblems and design on his robe, an instructor from the Hidden Leaf school. His presence commanded attention, his stride confident and purposeful as he approached me.

    His black hair, neatly tied back, further accentuated the sharpness of his features and the focused intensity of his gaze. As he walked towards me, his stride was neither hurried nor slow, but every step seemed measured, as if he walked with the weight of his school''s legacy. Which he clearly had some pride in, otherwise he wouldn¡¯t seek me out.

    "Mr. Alaric, I presume?" he began, his voice carrying a tone of respect mixed with a hint of scrutiny. "I''m Master Takahashi. I''ve been hearing quite a bit about your performance today."

    Oh sure you have. Translation: ¡°You defeated one of my students, insulted our star pupil, and on top of that insulted our grand school.¡±

    Before I could muster more than a polite nod, another eager coach, a young woman with a bright, analytical gaze, jumped in with her own introduction. "And I''m Kara Melendez from the Dragon''s Spirit Dojo. We''ve been watching your fights very closely, Rai."

    They came in quick succession, each introduction overlapping the last, until Master Takahashi raised his hand slightly, signaling for a brief respite from the onslaught. The crowd seemed to hold its breath, waiting to see what the esteemed instructor would say next.

    Okay, show off, I see what you''re playing at.

    "Your skills are raw, intriguing, but perhaps a touch fortuitous," he stated, his tone edged with skepticism. "We at the Hidden Leaf value the rigorous cultivation of talent, not just the random acquisition of techniques."

    He paused, his gaze piercing. ¡°How exactly did you come to learn techniques that resemble those of the Hidden Leaf?" His question hung heavily in the air, suggesting he suspected more than just casual observation on my part.

    I met his gaze squarely, keeping my response calm and unruffled. "I watch, I learn, and I adapt. Isn''t that the essence of martial arts?" I replied, my voice tinged with a respectful defiance.

    Master Takahashi¡¯s lips thinned, clearly not convinced by my answer. ¡°Luck can grant you an occasional victory, but it won¡¯t sustain you through a true martial path. I suggest you consider deeper training, rather than relying on chance.¡±

    I see now, he was mostly here to take a shot at my confidence. It was framed by the murmurs of agreement from some of his followers. I call them followers because every time he said something they just nodded along as if he was preaching the gospel. I won''t be swayed so easily, after all, I''m not awakened yet, once I am there''s no mountain high enough.

    I simply nodded, acknowledging his advice without submitting to it. "Thank you, Master Takahashi. Every match is a lesson, isn¡¯t it? Today¡¯s been full of them. You''re disciples said, oh what was it? Something about teaching the students to recognize their shortcomings and learn from their losses. So using luck as an excuse, it''s kinda contradictory, isn''t it?¡±

    His eyes narrowed slightly, the implication clear that he hadn¡¯t expected such a pointed comeback. Around us, the followers'' murmurs faded into a tense silence, awaiting his response.

    Come on, give me another one, I dare you.

    Stepping back, Master Takahashi gave a curt nod, his expression unreadable. "Well considered," he finally conceded grudgingly before turning to rejoin his group.

    Pussyyyy~

    Chronos, who had been watching from a distance, approached with a wry smile. ¡°You make me so proud,¡± he said while wiping a fake tear.

    Roughly fifteen minutes passed by the time I was called to the mat. The finals had begun and the crowd had gotten thick with spectators. I took a glance around and wondered if my mom had called out sick from work and was hidden amongst the crowd in a disguise. I chuckled at the thought.

    Yuki spoke, interrupting my thoughts, ¡°Is this really the time to laugh? At least pretend to be serious.¡±

    ¡°I''m sorry, Princess,¡± I quipped with an exaggerated bow, ¡°I didn''t realize you needed my undivided attention.¡± I smiled, carefree. She hadn¡¯t exactly made a good first impression, so a little ribbing felt justified. Petty? Maybe a bit.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    Her cheeks tinted pink. ¡°Y-you... remember our bet, don¡¯t you?¡±

    Oh? Bringing that up again? Interesting.

    ¡°Oh, right. What¡¯s the stake?¡± I played along. ¡°Sorry, no hand-holding, I¡¯m saving that for marriage.¡±

    ¡°W-what? No, I-¡± She cleared her throat, gaining composure. ¡°The loser does whatever the winner says.¡±

    I gasped theatrically. ¡°How scandalous! You were after my body this whole time?¡±

    She flushed a deeper red. ¡°NO! I-¡±

    Before she could finish her words the referee stepped forward, a hush fell over the crowd. ¡°Attention competitors and spectators,¡± he began, his voice echoing through the arena, ¡°the rules for the final match have been altered. We will continue until a knockout or surrender. Exiting the ring is no longer a cause for defeat. There will only be one round, and the victor will win the competition.¡±

    Surprise flickered across both Yuki¡¯s and my faces. Yuki quickly turned to her instructor, her expression a mix of confusion and concern. She spoke to him in Japanese, I couldn''t understand a word, but it was clear she was asking him "What on earth is going on?¡±

    Her instructor merely shrugged, his face schooled into an expression of feigned ignorance that didn¡¯t quite reach his eyes.

    I shot a glance towards Chronos, searching for some hint or approval of this sudden change, but he too perfected the art of pretending, looking as uninformed and curious as the rest.

    A suspicion gnawed at me, hinting that this wasn''t just a spontaneous rule change but a well-orchestrated setup. "I''ll interrogate you later," I muttered under my breath, turning back to face Yuki, who was still eyeing her instructor, her face etched with a sense of betrayal. Her instructor whispered something to her, his words eliciting not only a harsh look from Yuki but also surprised glances from the rest of his school''s contingent nearby. When she spun back around she had an expression of both reluctance and irritation, and her eyes began to water.

    Don''t give me that look, just because he said something harsh doesn''t mean¡­ shit.

    In frustration, I scratched the back of my head, clicking my tongue. "Well, it''s clear we don''t have a choice or a say in any of this. Someone''s pride was hurt, and now we have to be the outlet for their frustration." I looked at her, ready to suggest we forfeit the match, "Since it''s come down to it, we should just-"

    Before I could finish, the whistle pierced the air, and Yuki burst forward, her knee aiming for my face in a swift, aggressive start. I leaned back instinctively, but not enough, her knee landed on my left cheek. Reacting quickly, I used the force of the impact to propel myself into a backflip, landing awkwardly on my stomach. I quickly scrambled to my feet, tasting blood as the wound inside my cheek reopened.

    "Hey, what the fuck is wrong with you?" I tried to reason, but she was relentless, launching forward again, unleashing a barrage of attacks. Her fists pummeled my abdomen and chest, the force of each hit tensing my muscles painfully. Gasping for breath between the blows, I tried again, "Why are you playing into their game? We should both just forfeit the match."

    Her gaze met mine, a storm of emotions playing across her face. For a moment, her intense, usually unreadable eyes softened, revealing a mix of reluctance and sadness. Her fists remained raised, poised to continue the onslaught, but her expression betrayed her inner conflict. The usual calm and confidence that defined her presence in the ring was overshadowed by a flicker of anger, a silent scream against the recent interaction with Master Takahashi.

    As she paused, her features tightened again, the sadness morphing into a determined resolve. It was clear she was battling not just me but also something internal.

    Just what did that bastard say to her?

    The barrage continued relentlessly. Yuki¡¯s fists were like hammers, and her kicks like the swings of a sledge. I blocked and dodged as best as I could, each move a desperate attempt to protect myself while trying to find an opening to speak, to reason with her. "Yuki, stop! We don''t have to do this!" I shouted over the din of the crowd, each word punctuated by another strike that I barely managed to deflect.

    But she was like a storm, unyielding and all-consuming. My thoughts swirled chaotically as I continued to fend off her attacks. Between the rapid punches, a part of me, the part that had been ignited during this competition, whispered traitorously, urging me to embrace the fight. It was a niggling voice, growing louder with every exchange, taunting me, challenging me.

    Why hold back? Isn''t this what you wanted? The thrill, the challenge, the raw feeling of fighting?

    Each of her movements was a blur, her strikes so swift and well-timed that I found myself on the defensive more than I liked. Her agility was something else, every time I thought I had her pattern figured out, she switched techniques, her fluid transitions a testament to her skill and her awakened state.

    She flowed like water around and through my defenses. Each of her kicks and punches carried a finesse that spoke of years of rigorous training and a deep, intrinsic understanding of martial arts. I blocked a high kick aimed with precision at my head, her foot seemed to only graze the air, centimeters from impact. I couldn¡¯t help but marvel at her technique.

    As another blow landed, this time catching my shoulder and sending a jolt of pain through my body, I gritted my teeth. The physical pain was sharp, but the inner conflict was agonizing. I stumbled back, narrowly avoiding a swift roundhouse kick that would have surely ended the match. Gasping for air, I tried again, my voice hoarse, "Yuki, please! Can we just talk for a second?"

    But she wasn¡¯t listening, or maybe she couldn¡¯t hear me over her own relentless determination. As she advanced again, her eyes were a mix of focus and something darker, maybe anger, maybe something pushed onto her by expectations or hidden pressures I couldn''t see.

    If anything, her intensity increased, her strikes coming faster, her moves more unpredictable. It was as if my words had stoked a fire within her, and now she was burning brighter, pushing both of us to our limits. I dodged a spinning heel kick by a hair''s breadth, feeling the wind from her move rather than the contact itself.

    In this whirlwind of motion, I struggled to keep up, my responses becoming more reactionary than strategic. Every block, every dodge was reactive, a desperate attempt to keep pace with her. But amidst this chaos, the voice in my head grew clearer, egging me on, drawing out a smile from me despite the barrage.

    Then finally, she landed an elbow against my jaw, followed swiftly by a roundhouse kick to the side of my head. My ears began to ring. My head throbbed. Then, it happened.

    Thump. Thump. Thump.

    My heart began to thunder in my chest, each beat like the drum of war echoing through the caverns of my ribcage. This sensation, this pulsing life force within me growing louder and more insistent with every exchange, wasn''t just adrenaline, it was a call to arms.

    Thump. Thump. Thump.

    This... isn¡¯t this why I started learning from Chronos? Why I took this path?

    These thoughts raced through my mind as Yuki''s strikes landed, each one a reminder of the day it all started. Sitting on the cold ground bloodied and bruised with wet pants.

    Thump. Thump. Thump.

    With each blow, a spark of exhilaration ignited within me. My breathing deepened, drawing in the charged air of the arena, mixing it with the fire of my resolve. The pain from each hit was there, but it was overshadowed by a growing excitement, an awakening hunger for the challenge. The taste of blood fueling my desire to fight.

    Thump. Thump. Thump.

    I could feel it building, the joy of the fight, the sheer thrill of matching wills and skills with someone who is superior. It wasn''t just about winning anymore, it was about embracing the raw, untamed spirit of combat that had drawn me to martial arts in the first place.

    Thump. Thump. Thump.

    As another of Yuki''s punches cut through the air, narrowly missing my jaw by mere inches, the realization hit me like a bolt of lightning: I was exactly where I needed to be. This was the dance of warriors, and I was fully part of it now.

    Thump. Thump. Thump.

    I parried another jab, her speed almost overwhelming, I felt a shift within me. It was like a click, a sudden alignment of my senses sharpened by the necessity of survival and the adrenaline that coursed wildly through my veins. My origin was at work, stealing everything she had to offer.

    Fine¡­ Let¡¯s dance.

    Yuki launched a rapid succession of jabs, each one aimed with precision and speed, I took a deep breath and focused. Her technique was flawless; her jabs weren¡¯t only fast, but they were timed with an innate rhythm that was hard to predict yet beautifully orchestrated. As she extended her arm, I noted the slight rotation at her wrist, a subtle but effective way to increase the impact. With each jab, she slightly shifted her weight from her back foot to her front, optimizing her body¡¯s momentum.

    Her footwork was a dance, almost poetic. She moved like water, her steps flowing into each other, making her incredibly difficult to pin down. As she pivoted on her heel for a hook kick, I observed the way her other foot barely touched the ground before it snapped up, the kick whistling through the air. It was a move of stunning agility and control, while ducking under it, I couldn''t help but admire the finesse.

    Mom would want me to be a gentleman, and end this game. No¡­ fight¡­

    I countered instinctively, borrowing the fluidity of her movements. My own kick mirrored hers, not just in trajectory but in the way I balanced my weight, how I turned my body to follow through. It felt like a shadow of her technique, yet distinctly mine as I adapted it on the fly.

    "I see now," I murmured as she reset, a slight frown creasing her brow as she noticed the technique. She changed tactics, launching a series of low sweeps aimed to knock me off balance. Each sweep was a calculated attempt to disrupt, her body low and angled to reduce her target profile. I mimicked the movement, feeling how her muscles tensed and relaxed, understanding the timing and the physical logic behind each decision.

    As the match progressed, the exchange of blows became a dialogue, each of us conversing in the language of martial arts. Her strikes became my strikes; her defenses informed my defenses. With every move she made, I absorbed and redirected, learning and applying in real-time. The thrill of this learning, of seeing her techniques unfold and making them my own, was exhilarating. My grin not fading in the slightest.

    She''s got her reasons, right? Easy on her. FIGHT!

    Finally, I anticipated her next high kick, stepping inside her range and using her momentum against her. I grasped her kicking leg, channeling my understanding of her balance and force, and gently, yet firmly, redirected her into a controlled fall. As she landed safely but firmly out of position, the realization of the technique''s adoption flashed across her face, a mix of surprise and respect evident in her expression.

    The crowd, having followed every move, every counter, every adaptation, erupted into applause, appreciating the display.

    Yuki quickly got to her feet and continued her pursuit. I shifted from defense to offense, testing Yuki''s reactions to my advances. I focused on her eyes, sharp and focused, tracking my limbs with an intensity that gave her an edge in predicting my moves. Her gaze seemed to latch onto every extension I made, allowing her to adapt swiftly.

    Taking this into account, I started experimenting with my reach, varying the speed and trajectory of my attacks to gauge her response. While I extended a punch, I watched her eyes flick to my shoulder, then to my elbow, reading the intent before the move was fully executed. It was like a silent conversation, where she was constantly asking and answering questions about my next move based on slight muscular shifts and changes in my posture.

    This was enlightening. Her method was meticulous, mirroring the way I absorbed and adapted techniques, but she did it through visual cues and predictive reasoning. Her ability to anticipate and react was akin to my own, yet it was clear she honed this skill to an almost instinctive level.

    Seizing an opportunity, I feigned a left jab, watching her body tense in preparation to counter. Instead of following through, I switched to a low sweep, aiming to catch her off-guard. As she adjusted to block the sweep, I noticed a slight delay in her reaction, a telltale sign that my mix-up had sown a seed of doubt.

    So you are vulnerable to feints~

    Encouraged by this small victory, I ramped up the complexity of my combinations, weaving together sequences that blurred the line between feints and actual strikes. Each move was a test, a question posed to her defenses, and with each response, I learned more about her technique and timing.

    Finally, in a rapid exchange, I mirrored one of her earlier moves, a swift, angular kick followed by a deceptive pivot. As she moved to counter, expecting a repeat of my previous pattern, I broke the rhythm, instead closing the distance and aiming a controlled, precise strike towards her midsection. This time, she couldn''t adjust in time, and the impact pushed her back, her footing disrupted. Her calm expression began to fracture.

    I figured you out~

    I kept the memory of her previous match''s misstep fresh in my mind, the moment she faltered under a well-timed feint. I was determined to use this to my advantage, crafting a strategy around her slight hesitation when faced with unexpected moves.

    I feigned aggressive attacks, throwing punches and kicks that aimed just shy of making contact, closely watching her reactions. Each time I faked a move, her eyes darted to the feigned attack, her body tensing in anticipation. This split-second of hesitation was all I needed.

    Maybe just fake a knockout, make it- NO! BREAK THROUGH!

    I built upon this pattern, establishing a rhythm designed to draw her in. Then, at a critical moment, I launched a complex feint; a high kick aimed directly at her head, which was nothing more than a bluff. As she instinctively raised her arms to block the nonexistent threat, I shifted my weight and redirected my motion into a sweeping leg kick aimed at her ankles, an area she''d left unguarded.

    I should be considerate- FUCK THAT, WIN!

    Her response was a fraction slower, her body conditioned to expect another high strike. The sweep took her by surprise, knocking her balance just enough to send her stumbling backward. Quickly capitalizing on her disarray, I moved in, closing the distance as she struggled to regain her footing.

    What if I just step back and- SHE¡¯S OPEN! ATTACK! DON¡¯T LET HER REST!

    With her defenses momentarily compromised, I executed a rapid series of strikes, each one calculated to keep her off balance and reactive rather than proactive. I connected a particularly sharp jab to her midsection, the crowd gasped, sensing the shift in control. I could see the realization in her eyes as she began to understand the depth of her vulnerability to feints, a flaw in her otherwise impeccable defense.

    I should have continued my assault, but I paused, stepping back slightly. I waited for Yuki to regain her composure, watching as she straightened, her breath steady despite the intensity of our exchange.

    The pause was a moment of mutual recognition, a silent acknowledgement of the shift in our battle. She eyed me warily, uncertainty flickering in her expression. I wiped a trickle of blood from my lip with my thumb, the taste metallic and invigorating, and flashed her a maniacal grin.

    She''s struggling too, maybe I should- NOW IS YOUR CHANCE! NO MERCY!

    Yuki launched herself forward again, her movements were a blur of speed and precision, her expression of calmness faltering once again. But this time, I was ready. Using the technique I had just stolen, I focused on the subtleties of her approach: the slight tension in her shoulders, the way her eyes narrowed just before a strike, the minor shifts in her footing that telegraphed her next move.

    What if- DON¡¯T STOP!

    With each attack she made, I sidestepped or ducked effortlessly, my body moving in sync with the rhythm I had decoded. Her frustration mounted with every miss, her strikes growing more forceful yet predictably erratic. I could see her trying to adjust, to find a new angle or a new trick that I hadn''t already countered. Irritation was clear on her face as she tried one thing after another constantly grunting and shouting..

    I- WIN!

    Each dodge and weave was a testament to the battle¡¯s evolution, not just of physical prowess but of mental acuity. "I understand it now," I said, not just to her but to myself, affirming the breakthrough in my ability to read and anticipate my opponent''s intentions.

    As her last punch sailed harmlessly past my ear, I stepped closer, our faces mere inches apart. My smile never wavered, even as I spoke, my voice low and steady, "Your technique, it''s incredible. Now it¡¯s mine."

    WIN!

    The crowd was silent for a moment, the tension palpable, before erupting into cheers and shouts.

    Yuki stepped back, regaining her posture, her eyes wide with a mix of respect, her initially aggravated expression faded. The match was far from over, but a new understanding had settled between us, a mutual recognition.

    Yuki''s acknowledgement came silently but profoundly. She bowed deeply before me, a gesture of respect and perhaps concession, but there was something more, a final card yet to be played. As she straightened up, her fingers deftly rolled up the sleeve of her left arm, revealing the bind Chronos had mentioned earlier. The gem at its center glowed faintly under the arena lights.

    With a decisive flick of her finger, she tapped the gem, and I watched, mesmerized, as the bind clicked and loosened the intricate patterns moving across the metallic bracelet, clattering to the mat. The air around us seemed to pulse as her aura, no longer restrained, flooded the space. The sudden release of energy was palpable, pressing against my own senses with an almost physical force.

    The crowd gasped, a wave of whispers rising like a storm. Yuki''s eyes met mine, intense and unwavering. She gave a slight nod, as if signaling the true beginning of our confrontation, and then, in a flash of movement too quick to follow, she appeared right in front of me. Her fist connected with my chest, a solid, precise strike that sent me reeling backward.

    The force of the blow was unlike anything I had faced before; it was not just physical power but the weight of her awakened aura that pushed against me. I stumbled, my feet finding empty air where the mat ended, and then I was falling, tumbling out of the ring to land with a heavy thud on the floor outside.

    As I struggled to catch my breath, lying just outside the ring, the arena suddenly went silent. My vision blurred, but I could make out the referee rushing towards Yuki. With swift, practiced movements, he restrained her, his actions smooth and efficient, clear signs of an Ascendant''s skill. Yuki, caught in the referee''s firm grasp, couldn¡¯t move, her earlier fluidity and freedom abruptly curtailed.

    You fucker, why didn¡¯t you intervene when she was taking off the bind?

    Through the haze of my disorientation and the creeping blackness edging my sight, I saw her turn to look at me. Despite the situation, she managed a smile, a silent apology or perhaps a regret for the turn of events. Then, the murmur of the crowd crescendoed into clarity just long enough for me to hear the announcement ringing through the arena, "Disqualified for using Aura."

    The word "disqualified" echoed oddly in my ears as darkness tightened its grip. The last thing I saw before everything slipped away was Yuki¡¯s resigned expression as she was led away, still restrained by the referee. I slipped into unconsciousness with only one thought.

    Fuck, did I just win by default?

 Chapter 21 - Surprise?

    Raiden Alaric

    The first thing I noticed as consciousness crept back was the unfamiliarity of the ceiling, a vast, white expanse dotted with small, square tiles. Blinking slowly, I turned my head, trying to piece together how I ended up here. "I don''t know this ceiling," I murmured, coughing from the pain in my chest and lungs.

    A familiar chuckle came from beside me, drawing my attention. Chronos sat in a chair next to the bed, a look of mild amusement on his face. "Evangelion reference, I approve," he said.

    I tried to sit up, then regretted it, a wave of dizziness forced me back down onto the pillows. As I moved, I felt the snug pressure of a Madela wrap around my chest, its warmth seeping into my skin similar to what Chronos had used except this seems to be of higher quality. The events of the contest rushed back, Yuki¡¯s expression, her unrelenting assault, the release of her bind, the punch, me flying through the air... "Did I... win?" I managed to ask, my mind still foggy.

    Chronos nodded, his expression showed something along the lines of pity. "In a manner of speaking, yes. You won by disqualification. Yuki removing her bind and unleashing her aura was a clear violation of the competition''s rules. They had no choice but to disqualify her," he explained, handing me a water bottle. "Try not to talk too much just yet. You were hit in the solar plexus, right between your lungs. The strike impacted your lungs, causing a lack of oxygen to your brain, and that knocked you unconscious."

    He paused, his gaze assessing as he continued. "Although I have to admit, Yuki has some impressive control. You see, if she wasn¡¯t trained to a point where she could control her aura output, she could have driven her fist through your chest. Instead you walked away with almost completely shattered ribs."

    My eyes widened at that revelation. I knew Ascendants were strong, but experiencing it first hand really settles it in. Regardless of how I felt after seeing aura used first hand, I was still in a state of disappointment.

    "Disqualified, huh?" I echoed, a mixed feeling of relief and disappointment settling in. I didn''t want a victory like that, but at the same time, from the way she looked resigned, I think this is how she wanted it to end. Where whoever set up our rule change, wouldn¡¯t get the satisfaction of the win.

    Although I do think she is kind of a bitch for using her aura on me as if I was also an Ascend-.

    I lifted my wrists and wanted to scream all kinds of things that would make my mom force feed me soap until I move out. The damn Anchors probably made her think that I was an Ascendant and could take the hit.

    Well, unfortunately, or fortunately for her I suppose, I am not Awakened yet.

    Something else nagged at me while we fought. Every time I thought about ending the fight quickly, a deeper part of me resisted. My heart pounded, my focus narrowed¡ªnothing mattered but the fight.

    I only wanted¡­ to win.

    At first, I was thrilled, thinking I had found my revelation. But after a few moments, there was no resonance, no awakening. Maybe I¡¯m getting closer?

    Chronos leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "So, despite the disappointment, you gained something valuable, right?"

    I grinned. "Yeah, I stole all those techniques. I finally got to fight, to test myself properly."

    "And with that said, what are your plans for the summer?" Chronos asked, his tone casual but loaded with implications.

    Plans? Coming from Chronos, that could mean anything from slightly dangerous to outright insane. I eyed him warily. "What do you mean?"

    "Let''s just say," Chronos began, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes, "you''re going to have a very busy summer. I''m signing you up for every martial arts contest that will take you. The more techniques you face, the more you''ll learn."

    The notion should have felt daunting, but as I lay there, a slow grin spread across my face. Despite the aches and the warmth from the Madela wrap soothing my bruised chest, the thought of diving headfirst into countless battles sparked an undeniable thrill within me.

    Catching my excitement, Chronos''s smile widened. "And, I¡¯m going to teach you one new technique. But remember, you won''t learn anything else until you''ve mastered it."

    "One technique?" I repeated, excitement evident in my tone. "What is it?"

    "You''ll see," Chronos replied, standing up. "Think of it as a present."

    "Present?" Before I could probe further, medical staff entered and checked on me. After confirming there were no issues, they removed the wrap. I noticed I was almost fully healed, though the soreness lingered. "You said my ribs were almost shattered. Just how high-ranked was that wrap to heal me so quickly?"

    Chronos nodded towards the medical team. "These aren''t just normal medical staff, they¡¯re Ascendants, did you really think they¡¯d rely only on wraps without proper medical expertise?"

    As Chronos chuckled at my surprise, I sat up, testing my range of motion, surprisingly smooth and pain-free. "Guess I underestimated just how common Ascendants become once you get into that world."

    He nodded, "Considering that these events are a hot spot for acquiring talent it¡¯s only expected that they have Ascendants on standby for both the moderation and health of the contestants."

    I swung my legs over the side of the cot, feeling the firm ground beneath my feet. The energy in the infirmary was an obvious contrast to the intensity of the ring, yet the buzz from the competition lingered in my veins. "So, as many contests as we can this summer, huh? That''s going to be... intense."

    "Exactly what you need," Chronos affirmed, his gaze sharp and encouraging. "It¡¯s all about risk and reward. But we''ll have to take it slow, your mother would have my head if I threw you into an underground fighting ring for potential Ascendants right away."

    I shot him a hopeful look, and he winced seeing my excitement. ¡°No, don¡¯t even start thinking that¡¯s where you¡¯re heading right away.¡±Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    ¡°But¡­ you said ''right away,'' so technically, that means you will let me join those eventually, right?¡± I teased, wiggling my eyebrows.

    He waved me off with a smirk, ¡°We''ll see. Now let''s get going.¡±

    I stood, stretching my arms above my head, a slight twinge reminding me of the recent bout. "And the technique you''re going to teach me?"

    ¡°I¡¯ll show you tomorrow at training. In the meantime, rest and look forward to it.¡± He paused before walking off, ¡°Oh right, here you are.¡± He held a gold medal out to me.

    I reached out to take it, my fingers closing around the cool, light disc. The medal was a simple circle of gold-colored metal, its edges slightly chipped to reveal the dull, grey substance underneath. Embossed on its surface was a crudely stamped laurel wreath encircling the word "Champion" in blocky, uneven letters that seemed to mock the very concept of victory.

    The ribbon, a tri-color of red, white, and blue grosgrain, was frayed and hastily cut, its raw edges fraying further with each touch. It hung from the medal limply, an afterthought attached without care.

    Holding it in my hand, the medal felt insubstantial, its flimsiness a stark contrast to what I felt. There was no sense of triumph in its touch, only a hollow reminder of a victory by disqualification, not by my skill. It felt undeserved, echoing the emptiness of a win not fully earned, intensifying the gnawing void inside me.

    As I turned the medal over, examining its imperfections, each flaw seemed to resonate with my own feelings of dissatisfaction. Chronos saw my bitter expression and patted my back. "Don¡¯t worry, real accolades are what you learned through experience, not something you put on a shelf."

    The drive home was quiet, giving me plenty of time to mull over the whirlwind of the past few days. I pulled my phone out to check the time, hoping I wasn¡¯t getting home too late. It read March 21st, 5:43PM, I¡¯m not late at all, we made really good time. As Chronos dropped me off with a simple nod, saying he''d see me tomorrow, I took a deep breath before heading to the front door, trying to switch from combat mode to home mode.

    The lights flicked on as I pushed open the front door, and the room erupted with a chorus of "Surprise!" Balloons bobbed and streamers danced in the air, while my family''s wide grins filled the space between. I blinked, stunned. My birthday. I''d completely forgotten. The events of the contest had consumed all my thoughts, pushing even this important day out of my mind.

    "Rai, you look like you''ve seen a ghost," my mom joked, her arms wrapping around me in a hug that melted away the remnants of the day''s tension.

    I let out a surprised laugh, still disoriented by the sudden shift from combat to celebration. "I... totally forgot. Wait, it''s my birthday?" My brain clicked, recalling Chronos¡¯s earlier words about a ''present''.

    That sly bastard timed it perfectly. Well played.

    "Yeah it¡¯s your birthday! How could you forget the day Mom makes her chocolate cake?" Iris chimed in, teasing. "Did someone hit your head too hard?"

    Shaking my head, I stepped further into the warmth of home. The table was laden with food and in the center, a large chocolate cake waited with flickering candles. The normalcy of it all, the family chatter, the aroma of home-cooked food, it grounded me.

    I began to share the day''s events. "So, the competition," I began, finding all eyes on me, curious and supportive. "It started off easier than I expected. The first few matches weren''t much of a challenge. Honestly, I was a bit disappointed."

    They listened intently as I recounted the bouts, the crowd''s energy, and the escalating intensity of each fight. "But then," I continued, "things picked up. I finally met fighters who pushed me, made me adapt and learn on the fly. It was... exhilarating."

    I paused, the memory of the final bout surfacing. "The last match was against Yuki, the strongest I faced. It ended in a way I didn¡¯t expect. She was disqualified." I obviously will not mention how exactly that disqualification came about because the last thing I need is watching my mom sprint out of the house at mock 12 to yell at Chronos.

    My family''s reactions were mixed, concern shadowed their faces, but pride was there too. "It sounds like you really found what you were looking for, even if it didn''t end the way you hoped," my dad said, his voice warm.

    "Yeah, I guess I did," I admitted, feeling a mixture of satisfaction and unresolved tension. "Every fight taught me something. Even the last one, in its own way."

    My mom reached out, squeezing my hand gently. "Just remember, we''re proud of you, not just for winning or for fighting, but for standing up there and giving it your all."

    The warmth of her grip and the sincerity in her voice washed over me, anchoring me back to what mattered.

    I nodded, feeling the weight and warmth of her words. "Thank you, I¡¯ll always give it my all."

    Soon the laughter and chatter began to settle, my mom disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a small plate in her hands. She placed it in front of me with a motherly flourish, a thick slice of warm chocolate cake next to a melting scoop of vanilla ice cream. The rich aroma wafted up, coaxing a genuine smile from me.

    "Here, this should help you relax," she said, her eyes twinkling with affection.

    I don¡¯t know what made her assume I was so tense, but perhaps it was when I had talked about my disappointment in not really winning.

    I took a bite, the warm chocolate mingling with the cool, creamy ice cream made my taste buds sing. The flavors melted away the residual stress from the day''s events, drawing a contented sigh from me. For a moment, as the chocolate sweetness filled my senses, I forgot about fights and training and rivals.

    "Nothing beats your chocolate cake, Mom," I mumbled through a mouthful, my spirits lifting.

    My mom smiled, her eyes softening. "As long as you come back to have it, I''ll keep baking it."

    I smirked, ¡°Be careful with that promise, leave me alone in the kitchen with one of these it will be gone in the morning.¡±

    ¡°Hey, that¡¯s not fair! Save some cake for me too!¡± Iris pouted, feeling left out of the conversation.

    As the night grew deeper I excused myself to head to my room. The weight of the day''s excitement and the evening''s joy hung pleasantly over me, like a comforting blanket. As I pushed open the door to my bedroom, a small, neatly wrapped package on my bed caught my eye. Curiosity piqued, I approached and picked it up, noticing a card nestled atop the wrapping paper.

    "To Rai, from Mom, Dad, and Iris," the card read in cheerful, looping handwriting. Clearly Mom¡¯s handwriting. Smiling, I pulled at the ribbon and unwrapped the gift, revealing a box that was unmistakably from a high-end sports brand.

    Inside, nestled against crisp tissue paper, were a pair of training shoes by Aether Dynamics . They were sleek, their design cutting-edge, with a color scheme of dark blue and silver that gleamed under my room''s light. The material was lightweight yet known for their durability, and the soles were designed for optimal grip and shock absorption, perfect for my training.

    The brand was known for integrating new technology that provided extra cushioning and support, making them not just functional but also incredibly comfortable for long training sessions. Did I sell you on them yet? Well that¡¯s too bad because these are one of a kind. On the side of each shoe, had my initials, R.A. embroidered on them. I was so excited and happy about them I almost slept with them on.

    Running my fingers over the smooth fabric and sturdy seams, I felt a surge of gratitude. These weren¡¯t just like the rest of my shoes, they were top-of-the-line, likely costing more than any shoes I¡¯d ever owned. They symbolized not just a gift for my birthday but recognition from my family that they understood and supported this path I had chosen.

    Climbing into bed, I set the shoes aside with a promise to myself to make every moment spent in them count.

 Chapter 22 - Im Going to Kill You Now

    Raiden Alaric

    After running to Chronos¡¯ place, I walked around looking for him, which quickly turned out to be a mistake. I hadn¡¯t really had the chance to explore his estate beyond the training facilities and the garage on occasion. In other words, I got lost. Yes, it was my fault, I was impatient to learn the new technique he had teased.

    As I wandered through one of the less familiar buildings, I couldn¡¯t help but marvel at the surroundings. The walls were far from simple; they were masterpieces in their own right, crafted with intricate designs embedded directly into the marble. This wasn''t the usual abstract veining one might expect; this marble was alive with motion. As I focused on different parts of the wall, the stone seemed to flow fluidly, revealing beautiful, delicate art scenes. One wall depicted a fierce battle scene complete with clashing warriors and mystical creatures, while another showed a serene landscape, the seasons transitioning smoothly from spring blossoms to the chill of winter snow.

    Each corridor seemed to hold its own theme, telling stories of ancient legends and forgotten myths. Chronos had mentioned in passing that his home was built on the site of an old fortress, and every element of the architecture was steeped in history, each artifact and painting a collector''s prize.

    I was aware of the origins of this island; it hadn''t been given an ¡°official¡± name because politicians all over the world couldn''t decide who should have jurisdiction over it, especially since it was larger than most European countries. Since the Ascendant who made the island was quite elusive, they decided to name it based on his title, ¡°Createrra.¡± And don''t get me started on the debate among geologists about whether it''s an island or a continent. As for the law, well, the world uses the Sentinels'' Commandments, which doubled the reason some countries couldn''t claim the majority of jurisdiction over it. Yes, I''m rambling, but oh well, back to walking around.

    Turning a corner, I stumbled upon a small, secluded courtyard I hadn¡¯t seen before. It was a hidden gem, surrounded by high walls adorned with vines and flowering plants that climbed towards the open sky. A stone fountain stood in the center, its water sparkling in the sunlight that peeked through the leaves, casting shimmering patterns on the ground. At the top of the fountain rested a cross made of three nails.

    The serenity of the scene was a stark contrast to the awe-inspiring corridors I had just walked through. It was almost as if it was a visual representation of the layers of history and power that Chronos surrounded himself with, a physical manifestation of the centuries of knowledge and strength he embodied.

    Just who are you, Chronos?

    With each step, the estate seemed to reveal more of its secrets, as if it recognized my presence and was slowly opening up, guiding me deeper into its heart. The feeling of being lost shifted, becoming less about a physical location and more about losing myself in the depths of the history and aura that pulsed through the very walls around me.

    Just as I was about to sit down and let the tranquility of the courtyard wash over me, a familiar voice echoed from one of the nearby paths. "Lost, are we?" Chronos appeared, a slight smirk playing on his lips, as if he''d known exactly where to find me all along.

    I turned to him, caught mid-squat, and managed a sheepish grin. "Yes, but I got lost in your labyrinth of a home."

    He chuckled, the sound echoing slightly in the spacious courtyard. "Well, I would have found you sooner or later. Why aren''t you in the training room?"

    My face blanched at the realization that he might interpret this as skipping out on training. "Y-you said you were teaching me a new technique today, so I-"

    "Got impatient and went looking for me?" He finished my sentence, raising an eyebrow.

    "Y-yeah¡­" I straightened up, rubbing the back of my neck. "I''ve been practically begging to learn more of your techniques, so I couldn¡¯t help but get excited at the thought of learning something new from you."

    He nodded, understanding flashing in his eyes. "Well, since you found me, let''s go."

    My spirits lifted immediately, and I followed him eagerly back to the training building. After changing into my training gear, I found Chronos already stretching on the mat, waiting for me. Without a second thought, I hopped up onto the mat and began mirroring his movements.

    Once we were both limber, Chronos clasped his hands together, looking ready to begin. "Alright, so what am I teaching you?"

    "What are you teaching me?" I echoed, a bit confused.

    We both paused, staring at each other. After a moment, the awkward silence stretched long enough for the realization to dawn on me.

    My eyes widened, a spark of excitement igniting. "Celestials wings¡­ are you saying that¡­ I get to choose what you teach me?"

    Chronos¡¯s smile widened, a mischievous glint appearing in his eyes. "Exactly. But choose wisely. From this point on, every year the day after your birthday I will teach you one of my techniques. This also applies to you after you awaken."

    Holy shit Chronos stop it, you¡¯re gonna make me kiss you.

    The training room was silent except for the faint rustle of the mats underfoot as I settled down cross-legged, the quiet providing a stark contrast to the tumult of thoughts racing through my mind. Chronos watched patiently from a few feet away, understanding the gravity of the decision before me. One technique, it had to be pivotal, something transformative.

    I closed my eyes, letting the echoes of the contests filter through my memory. Each opponent, each strike, each moment of triumph and defeat laid out before me like pieces of a complex puzzle. However, it was the final confrontation with Yuki that kept replaying in my mind. Her aura, unleashed with a precision and power that I had no counter for, not yet at least.

    What I needed was not just a new move but a foundational shift in how I approached combat. I envisioned myself in the arena again, facing an Ascendant. How could I turn their power, their confidence in their aura, against them?

    I need something that escalates. A technique that grows stronger the more it''s charged, turning a single hit into a devastating blow.

    The concept wasn''t just about brute force, it was about timing, precision, and the strategic buildup of power.

    "Chronos," I began, opening my eyes and looking up at him, "I want to learn how to harness momentum, both mine and my opponent''s. Like in those games where a character charges up an attack for extra damage. Can we develop something like that? A technique that amplifies force the longer it''s prepared?"

    Chronos¡¯s expression shifted subtly, a mix of surprise and intrigue coloring his features. "An interesting choice," he murmured, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "You''re thinking of something that accumulates potential energy and converts it into a more powerful strike. It¡¯s ambitious, but very fitting for your style."

    "Yes, exactly!" I said, my voice growing more animated as the idea took clearer shape in my mind. "Something that can turn the tide of a battle with one perfectly timed blow. It would need to be something I can control, build up, and release at the moment of my choosing."

    Chronos nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing as he considered the possibilities. "It will require precise control over your physical and mental state. You¡¯ll need to be acutely aware of your environment, your opponent''s movements, and your own internal state. But," he paused, a sly grin spreading across his face, his crimson eyes glowing slightly, "it sounds like the perfect challenge for you."

    "Let''s get to work then," I said, rising to my feet, energized by the challenge. "I''m ready to start whenever you are."

    "Good," Chronos replied, clapping his hands once with a sound that echoed slightly in the large room. "Then let''s begin the foundation of what might just become your signature move."

    Chronos led me to a part of the training room I hadn¡¯t used before, where a reinforced dummy torso stood ominously, like it knew what was coming. ¡°This,¡± Chronos began, rolling up his sleeves, ¡°is about precision, but even more about the controlled, explosive power you can generate in a single, confined movement.¡±

    He positioned himself a mere inch away from the dummy, his posture relaxed yet clearly controlled. ¡°Watch closely,¡± he instructed, his voice calm but carrying an edge of excitement. He breathed in deeply, his focus narrowing. I watched, mesmerized as every muscle in his body seemed to coalesce into a singular purpose.

    Without a blink, Chronos¡¯s fist moved, it was barely a twitch, but the effect was catastrophic. The dummy¡¯s torso exploded into shreds of material, and a loud crash echoed as a hole appeared in the wall behind where the dummy once stood. Dust settled around us, and a few small alarms started to beep, likely triggered by the sudden destruction.

    Chronos blinked, looking almost as surprised as I felt. ¡°Ah,¡± he said, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. ¡°Tsk I didn¡¯t hold back enough¡­ dang it¡­ now I have to get the wall fixed again.¡±

    Again?

    I stared at the wreckage, then back at him. ¡°That was insane,¡± I breathed out, my mind racing at the potential of such a skill. ¡°You did that with just... a one inch punch?¡±

    ¡°Yes, and that¡¯s what I want to teach you,¡± Chronos replied, his eyes sparkling with a mix of pride and a hint of mischief. ¡°But clearly, I¡¯ll need to adjust the demonstration settings next time.¡±

    He explained further, ¡°The One Inch Punch, as it¡¯s traditionally known, is about channeling force through a very short distance. But what I¡¯ve developed, and what you¡¯ll learn, is an enhanced version. It¡¯s not just about the physical mechanics but also about harnessing and releasing your internal energy at the precise moment to maximize impact.¡±

    As he spoke, I couldn¡¯t help but imagine the possibilities. A technique like this could be a game-changer in any fight, especially against opponents who underestimated the power one could muster in such a confined space.

    If I had something like this when I was cornered¡­

    ¡°Your turn,¡± Chronos said, gesturing to a new dummy that staff quickly set up, this time with additional padding and without a wall directly behind it.

    I positioned myself in front of a new dummy, mimicking Chronos''s stance as closely as possible. One inch away, I focused, trying to channel everything he had shown me. But each attempt felt hollow, the strikes superficial. No matter how precisely I placed my punch, or how tightly I coiled my muscles, the expected devastation simply didn''t materialize. The dummy remained almost mockingly intact, and with each failed attempt, my frustration grew.

    "Concentrate, Rai," Chronos urged from behind me. "It''s not about the force, but it''s about channeling the energy, focusing it into a single point."

    I nodded, wiping sweat from my brow, trying again and again. Yet, each punch lacked the necessary potency, the energy slipping through my fingers like sand. The inefficacy of my efforts weighed heavily on me, my breaths short and ragged, a mix of physical exertion and growing irritation.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    "Why can''t I feel it? The energy you talk about?" I muttered, more to myself than to Chronos.

    Watching me struggle, Chronos''s expression showed consideration on how he should approach this. ¡°This is a perfect opportunity to show you something, I was going to wait for a while but I think it¡¯s best to rip of the band-aid now.¡±

    He took me over to the training mat in the middle of the room. "Sometimes," he began, his voice dropping to a more serious tone, "to truly understand the depth of a technique, you need to feel its impact. To know its power not just as the striker, but as the target."

    He positioned himself in front of me, his presence commanding. "Let''s change our approach."

    I turned to face him, catching the seriousness in his demeanor. "What do you mean?"

    "I mean, I''m going to show you the real essence of this technique, on you." He took a stance, one arm behind his back, the other extended forward. His voice was calm but carried an undercurrent of intensity. "I''m going to kill you now."

    The statement should have been terrifying, and it was, but it also sent an unexpected thrill of adrenaline through me. I knew he wouldn''t actually kill¡­ me¡­

    I couldn¡¯t move. It was as if the atmosphere had thickened, the pressure building like the weight of the ocean pressing down upon my shoulders. His eyes locked onto mine, piercing.

    In that moment, I felt a deep, instinctual shift within me. It was a primal response, triggered by the raw, unfiltered intent emanating from Chronos. The feeling was terrifying, like standing on the edge of a precipice, peering into an abyss that gazed back into you.

    This feeling I couldn¡¯t describe in any other way than, ¡°I¡¯m going to die.¡± It enveloped me, seeping into my very pores, whispering of danger and death. My heart raced, thudding loudly in my chest as if trying to escape the inevitable conclusion that something wanted nothing more than my demise. My breaths became shallow, rapid, as panic flirted with the edges of my mind.

    Yet, as the seconds stretched into what felt like hours, something else began to stir within me, a fierce, powerful response. It was as if the very threat of destruction awakened a dormant strength in my core, a defiant roar against the silent whisper of death. The sensation was electrifying, charging every nerve in my body with a mix of fear and exhilaration. I stood frozen, a statue carved of adrenaline and awe, as the reality of what I was experiencing settled into my consciousness.

    I¡¯m going to die. I¡¯m going to die. I¡¯m going to die. I¡¯m going to die.

    Then, unexpectedly, the corners of my mouth began to rise into a grin.

    The sensation was surreal, almost euphoric. My mind raced, not with fear but with fascination, as I observed every minute detail of Chronos''s posture and technique. His muscles tensed with calculated precision, his eyes focused intensely, not just on me but through me, as if peering into my very core. The air around us seemed to vibrate.

    My heart hammered in my chest, not just from fear now but from a wild surge of exhilaration. As Chronos initiated the movement, a whisper of raw power tickled at the edges of my senses. It was overwhelming, frightening, yet exhilarating. I stood frozen, every nerve alight with acute awareness, as his fist stopped mere inches from my chest. Then, a sudden gust emanated from his fist, sending me flying back into a padded wall. The impact felt like hitting a mattress falling off the back of a speeding truck.

    The world spun momentarily as I struggled to catch my breath, my back throbbing from the force of the collision. Chronos approached, his face a mixture of concern and satisfaction, offering a hand to help me up. I grasped it, pulling myself to my feet, still dizzy from the rush of adrenaline and the abrupt stop so I just fell back onto the ground.

    "What I just demonstrated wasn''t just to help you feel the energy," he explained, his voice calm but firm, "but also to show you the power of killing intent. It¡¯s a critical element in martial arts, especially in techniques like the one I¡¯m teaching you. It¡¯s about more than just physical force; it¡¯s about channeling your will, your intent to dominate the fight, into a single, decisive action."

    I nodded, still reeling from the experience, the reality of what I had just felt sinking in. The concept of killing intent, of using my aura not just as a shield or a weapon but as an extension of my very will, was¡­ thrilling.

    "You need to understand," Chronos continued, his tone both serious and instructive, "that every strike carries not just the potential to hit, but to intimidate, to control the battle. When you master this, you won¡¯t just be reacting, you¡¯ll be commanding the flow of the fight. I¡¯m showing this to you now because you will without a shadow of a doubt encounter this. The level of killing intent I demonstrated was extreme because I needed you to truly feel it first-hand. There are those who can mask their intent much better than others, but make no mistake, anyone who intends to take your life will emit killing intent at some point."

    As I caught my breath, a question formed in my mind. ¡°So, does this mean I need to want to kill someone to use this technique?¡±

    He smiled warmly, shaking his head. "No, not at all. I should have explained better beforehand, but it was crucial for you to experience this as authentically as possible.¡± He leaned in, his eyes glinting with a mix of mischief and wisdom. ¡°There''s another reason I did this, it''s because you understand it now, right?¡±

    I returned the smile, feeling a newfound comprehension dawning within me. ¡°Yeah, I think I got it now.¡±

    ¡°Perfect,¡± he said, then hoisted me back to my feet and guided me to the center of the mat once more. Taking his stance again, he fixed me with a challenging look. ¡°Alright,¡± he said, his voice a low rumble, ¡°try to ¡®kill¡¯ me.¡±

    In that instant, he unleashed his killing intent once more, the air thickening around us like a tangible force.

    Chronos Elior

    As I unleashed the killing intent once again, my eyes remained intently fixed on Rai. There was a part of me that regretted the necessity of introducing him to such a raw and visceral aspect of combat so early in his training. If not for the pressing demand of his Origin, a deep, inherent need triggered only by genuine threat, I wouldn''t have chosen this method without prior explanation.

    Observing Rai, I noticed the initial tremors of discomfort giving way to a darker, more intense focus. A slow, almost sadistic smile began to curl at the corners of his mouth, an unsettling yet fitting reaction to the profound sense of danger now enveloping him. It was a smile that spoke of understanding, of embracing the harsh truth I had laid bare before him.

    Rai¡¯s eyes, once wide with apprehension, narrowed with a fierce sort of clarity. He began to mimic my stance meticulously, his body aligning in a mirror image of my own. The air around us seemed to thicken with his burgeoning resolve.

    I couldn''t help but feel a twinge of pride mixed with a sobering realization. Rai was not just learning, he was evolving, adapting to the brutal realities of the path he had chosen. As he withstood the crushing weight of my intent, his own aura began to stir, a nascent storm brewing beneath the calm.

    "Good," I murmured under my breath, almost too quietly for anyone to hear. It was a word laden with both commendation and caution. Rai was stepping into a realm where few could tread without losing a part of themselves. I could sense his aura trembling and slowly gaining a smooth composure. While this may not be his gateway to his awakening, it should help him gain some proper insight into his drive for wanting to awaken and use aura.

    He inhaled deeply, his frame expanding with the intake of air, and as he exhaled, the atmosphere shifted. The killing intent I had wielded like a weapon was now being redirected, shaped by Rai''s will. His understanding crystallized in that moment, and with it, his readiness to retaliate.

    Well then, he managed to produce some killing intent of his own.

    "Come at me," I invited, my voice steady despite the stirring anticipation.

    Rai¡¯s response was not verbal but visceral. He moved forward, the sadistic smile now fully formed, a chilling prelude to the unleashed fury of his counterattack. The roles were now reversed, the student challenging his teacher. My my Rai, you have become quite the intimidating figure at the age of 15.

    As Rai¡¯s hand clenched into a fist and he thrust forward, a subtle breeze fluttered against my abdomen, an initial successful application of the technique. Yet, what followed was, of course, within my expectations. Rai''s arm, propelled by force beyond his current control, recoiled sharply. The backlash was immediate, a vivid demonstration of his inexperience with handling such condensed power.

    Watching Rai¡¯s reaction, a mix of surprise and pain as he clutched his right arm, it was clear he hadn¡¯t fully committed to the punch. Yet, even that restrained effort was enough to strain his muscles. With a subtle enhancement of my vision using aura, I examined the fibers of his muscle to ensure there was no tearing. Fortunately, there was none, but the incident underscored the precarious balance of pushing him in training.

    This harsh lesson was necessary. Rai''s journey demanded a deep understanding of his physical limits and the mechanics of each technique, brutal though the learning process might be. Without his awakening, he was bound to face these hurdles, his unawakened human limitations a constant barrier to the potential mastery of aura.

    "Rai," I began, my tone calm but carrying an undercurrent of stern concern as I approached him. I took his arm, letting a gentle flow of my aura seep into the strained muscles, easing the pain with a warm, soothing energy. "I know what you''re thinking," I continued, locking eyes with him to reinforce the gravity of my words. "You¡¯ll awaken in time. For now, this pain, this frustration, it''s beneficial. It''s teaching you the resilience you''ll need. When you do awaken, you''ll push past these limits with nothing to hold you back but your own will to improve."

    His expression softened, the pain receding as he absorbed the lessons from the discomfort. "Sorry," he muttered, his frustration palpable. "It''s just so hard not to be frustrated. I don¡¯t understand why finding my revelation has to be so difficult."

    I placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, feeling the tension beneath. "Revelations aren¡¯t just simply found Rai. Remember what I said before, your revelation is what is your drive to use aura. Why do you want to awaken, what is it that is pushing you forward? You aren¡¯t going to gain that kind of insight in a day. It¡¯s something that cultivates within you as you train and pursue this path. It will come to you one day Rai, it just one be as simple as others."

    His nod, though hesitant, still held understanding and resolve as we returned to the center of the mat, poised to delve deeper into the technique.

    "As I said, the essence of the One Inch Punch¡­ actually I suppose I should call it by its true name, the One Inch Death Punch hence why you felt and used that amount of killing intent, but I digress," I began, setting the foundation for a crucial lesson. "It isn''t merely about the force, it¡¯s about precision and impact, particularly on weak points that can magnify the effect of even a seemingly minimal force."

    I demonstrated by positioning my fist close to a training dummy, explaining as I did so. "Here," I said, pointing to a spot just below the sternum, "the solar plexus, a well-known weak point. A precise strike here can disrupt your opponent¡¯s breathing and balance." My fist moved slightly, indicating another target. "Or here, at the base of the throat¡ªa strike here can be disorienting, affecting their ability to fight back."

    As Rai watched intently, I shifted to illustrate a different angle. "And then there¡¯s the temple, the jaw, even the liver. Each of these targets requires less force than you might think, provided your strike is well-placed and delivered with proper technique."

    I stepped back, gesturing for Rai to approach the dummy. "Now, I want you to try. Focus not on the power of your strike, but on the precision. Visualize the internal impact your punch will have, not just the external force."

    Rai squared his shoulders, a flicker of determination lighting his eyes as he absorbed the lesson. He positioned himself as I had shown, his focus narrowing to the spots I had highlighted. With a measured breath, he delivered the punch, not with overwhelming force, but with a surgeon¡¯s precision.

    The effect on the dummy was visibly less dramatic than my earlier demonstration but was effective in its purpose. "Good," I encouraged, noting the controlled power of his strike. "Feel the technique, don¡¯t just perform it. Imagine you¡¯re reaching inside your opponent to disrupt their very ability to continue fighting."

    Rai repeated the motion, each strike more confident and precise. "So, it¡¯s less about brute strength and more about strategic debilitation," he reflected aloud, making the connections necessary for deeper comprehension.

    "Exactly," I affirmed, pleased with his progress. "In combat, especially when you face an opponent who might be stronger or faster, knowing where and how to strike can turn the tide in your favor."

    As the training session drew to a close, I noticed Rai''s concentration had deepened, his punches becoming more assured and effective. It was time to set his path forward.

    "Alright, Rai," I started, clapping my hands together to signal the end of today''s lesson. "You''ve got the basics down, but mastery will require dedication. From today onward, I want you to practice this technique 100 times a day."

    Rai''s eyes widened slightly, the magnitude of the task registering. I continued, unfazed by his reaction, "And each day, you will add one more punch to your practice. It''s about building endurance and ingraining this technique into your muscle memory."

    He blinked, his mouth opening as if to protest or seek clarification, but no words came out.

    "Well now that we¡¯ve added something new to your training routine, I will have you move on with your combat training on the dolls," I added, seeing his overwhelmed expression. "I have a few things I need to take care of so if you would please continue as usual and I will see you for dinner."

    With a final nod, I picked up my shoes, preparing to leave the training area. "If I catch you slacking, don''t think the punishment will be light."

    As I walked away, leaving Rai on the mat with his thoughts and the looming challenge ahead, I heard a faint mutter from him, a mix of disbelief and determination. "One hundred punches a day, increasing daily..."

    His task was set, now I just need to go take care of a little something and make it back in time before dinner.

 Chapter 23 - [Redacted]

    Chronos Elior

    I walked into my garage, where the cars were lined up neatly, each in its designated spot. To the left, the silver Rimac Nevera shimmered under the lights, its futuristic silhouette a sharp contrast to the classic lines of the Bugatti Chiron next to it.

    This garage, meticulously designed by my late wife Amelia, was more than just a storage space, it was a reflection of her passion for cars, a collection that ranged from the raw power of American muscle to the refined elegance of European engineering. She had a keen eye for design and performance, which was evident in every vehicle she chose.

    As I passed the gleaming lineup, the vibrant orange McLaren 765LT caught my eye, pulsing with energy, parked next to the sleek Maserati MC20, a masterpiece of Italian craftsmanship. Each car had its story, a memory of a drive, a trip, or a moment shared with Amelia.

    In the corner stood the customized forklift, an anomaly in this collection of high-performance machines. Decked out with chrome and flames, it was a project that Amelia undertook to inject some fun into the otherwise serious ensemble. It reminded me of her lighter side, her laughter echoing in my mind as she joked about racing it against the classics. I won¡¯t deny that I instigated the forklift buy. I made a joke and here it is. I loved it though.

    The lounge area at the back of the garage offered a stark contrast to the polished floors and gleaming metal. It was a cozy nook with plush leather sofas facing a large-screen TV, the perfect spot for relaxing after a long drive or watching replays of classic races. A small, well-stocked mini-fridge and a built-in espresso machine provided refreshments, while a well-worn Bible and a framed picture of Amelia and me added a personal touch, making the space feel like home. This was basically her second home considering the hours she spent here working on these.

    Choosing the Rolls Royce Phantom, a 2007 model, for today¡¯s outing was more than a nod to tradition, it was more of a ritual. This car, blending classic elegance with the reliable engineering of its era, had become my standard choice for visits to the Ascendants Association. As I approached the Phantom, its stately form seemed to stand as a bastion of the past, each line and curve a silent testament to Amelia''s enduring influence on my life.

    The Phantom, with its deep history and profound connection to our shared experiences, offered a silent comfort. It was in this car that we had taken many drives, discussing just about anything one could think of, its spacious and luxurious interior having borne witness to some of the most significant moments of our lives together.

    Starting the engine, the familiar purr of the well-maintained motor was reassuring. It reminded me of countless journeys begun right here, each turn of the key a step into nostalgia. Today, as always when heading to meet with trusted colleagues or to negotiate delicate matters at the Association, the Phantom was my vehicle of choice. Why this car and only this car? Well from my previous rambling, it¡¯s because of my wife. Every time we went to the A.A. together, it was in this car specifically.

    Come to think of it, I started doing this out of habit because of her.

    I turned my head to the passenger seat, noticing the seatbelt was still buckled, just as if Amelia were sitting there, ready for another car ride alongside me. It was something I did every time before setting off, a ritual that kept her presence alive in the gentle hum of our shared silences and the road trips that echoed with remnants of our conversations. The sight of the empty seat, with the belt securely fastened, was a poignant reminder of the void her absence left, yet it also filled the space with a sense of her enduring companionship.

    In the quiet of the car, surrounded by the soft leather and the familiar scent of the wood paneling, I let myself feel her presence, as if she had just adjusted the radio to our favorite classical station or was about to point out a roadside hawk soaring above. It was these moments, simple yet deeply ingrained in the fabric of the Phantom, that bridged the gap between past and present, allowing me to carry her legacy with me as I navigated the complexities of a life she had helped shape but could no longer physically share.

    I closed my eyes briefly, and imagined what she would be saying about who I was visiting and what my purpose was behind it. I could hear her little gripes and moans about how that woman is always wanting to analyze her sword and how she would somehow bring it up even though we are going there for a completely different reason.

    I chuckled at my musings and took off to the western campus for the A.A. Pulling out of the garage, I let my mind relax. Driving was something I took comfort in. Obviously I don¡¯t need to but if I have the opportunity to drive, I will. The route to the Ascendants Association was one I had taken many times before, yet it never felt routine, especially today, as I steered towards a lesser-known entrance, a path reserved for those of us with deeper ties and higher clearances within the organization.

    The road there was less a road and more a veiled pathway, cloaked by the overhanging branches of ancient trees whose roots whispered secrets of the old world. As the urban landscape gave way to secluded woodlands, the transition felt almost ceremonial, like crossing the threshold into a hidden sanctum. The trees parted at the end of the path, revealing an unassuming structure built into the side of a hill, camouflaged so effectively it could easily be missed by untrained eyes.

    This was the portal room, an exclusive gateway used by high-ranking Ascendants. Unlike the grand public portals advertised to the world, this entrance was stark, utilitarian, yet charged with an air of latent power. I parked the Phantom outside, its classic lines in stark contrast to the modernity of the portal technology housed within.

    Stepping out of the car, I took a moment to appreciate the relative solitude of the parking area reserved for those with the highest clearance at the A.A. Only a few other high-end vehicles were parked nearby, each one signifying the status of its owner.

    Oh, is that a Lykan Hypersport? Honestly Amelia would want to buy it off the guy since it ¡°technically¡± would count as a collectors piece. Her usual excuse.

    Ignoring the standard portal setup that hummed to life as I approached, I continued down a narrow, less-traveled corridor. The walls here were lined with sigils that glowed faintly under my scrutiny, acknowledging my presence.

    Reaching a secluded spot, I stopped and focused. Raising my hand, I coaxed the latent energies around me to converge. The air before me began to ripple and distort, reality folding under the weight of my will. A shimmering portal pulsed into existence, not the typical gateways used by the Association but a direct manifestation of my own creation.

    Stepping through the portal, I emerged into the chaotic brilliance of a well-used laboratory. The transition was seamless, the serene environment of the Association giving way to a space brimming with vibrant activity and scientific endeavor.

    I paused for a moment, taking in the surroundings. The lab was a sprawling maze of workstations cluttered with an array of scientific paraphernalia: beakers bubbling with mysterious liquids, flasks emitting gentle glows, and petri dishes hosting colorful mystery sauce. Screens of various sizes flickered with complex data sets and graphical representations of theoretical models, illuminating the room with a soft, pulsating light.

    The walls were lined with shelves overloaded with books and binders, their spines labeled with topics ranging from quantum mechanics to esoteric studies of ancient alchemical texts. Sketches and blueprints were pinned haphazardly along a corkboard that spanned an entire wall, showcasing intricate designs of experimental devices and untested inventions.

    In the center of this organized chaos, a large table served as the focal point, strewn with tools, soldering irons, and half-assembled machinery. It was clear that this space was not just a laboratory but a crucible of creation, where theory meets practice in a continuous dance of trial and error.

    Above all, the air was charged with a palpable sense of purpose, each surface and gadget telling its own story of challenges faced and overcome, of late nights and breakthroughs. This was a realm where the boundaries of science were not just pushed but often completely redefined.

    As I stepped further into the lab, the scent of ozone and solder mixed with the faint aroma of burnt coffee, and pure unfiltered B.O. Showers seem to be taboo in this place every time I visit.

    As I moved closer to the central table, an unexpected sight caught my eye. There, amid the scientific chaos, lay a woman, using a pile of soft-bound journals as a makeshift pillow. Her purple hair was a wild tangle of curls, spread out like a halo around her head, and her hand clutched a marker, presumably fallen mid-note.

    I chuckled softly, recognizing the all-too-familiar sight of an overworked researcher catching a rare moment of rest. Approaching quietly, I attempted the usual methods of waking a sleeping scientist, gentle calls, a slight nudge, even a louder clap. Yet, she remained undisturbed, lost in the depths of her exhaustion.

    Slightly bemused by her tenacity to ignore the waking world, I escalated my efforts. Leaning over, I grasped her shoulders and gave a gentle shake. "Selena," I called, a bit louder this time. No response. My eyebrows lifted in amusement, it wasn''t often one saw such dedication to sleep, especially in a lab as chaotic as this.

    With a mischievous grin, I decided it was time for the big guns. I stood straight holding her up by the arms like a cat, inhaled deeply, and bellowed right next to her ear while shaking her aggressively, "Dr. Selena, wake up! You''re missing the Nobel Prize announcement!" Still nothing. Since this didn¡¯t work I had a few aces up my sleeve. Rolling up said sleeve I walked over to one of the alchemy tables. I leaned over and eyed each glass, selecting my victim with the utmost scrutiny. My eyes landed on a beaker filled with a harmless but brightly yellow colored liquid. With a mischievous grin, I picked up the beaker, twirled the liquid, took a whiff of its contents, gagged, then dropped it. The sound of shattering glass echoed sharply through the lab.

    Instantly, she bolted upright, eyes wild and alert. "WHO TOUCHED MY RESEARCH?" she bellowed, scanning the room with intense scrutiny. Her gaze finally settled on me, and her expression shifted from panic to irritation as she recognized my presence.

    I gave her a friendly wave, ¡°Good morning!¡±

    Chronos, you bastard," she grumbled, her voice thick with sleep and irritation as she rubbed the back of her neck. "I finally manage to catch a wink of sleep, and you shatter it like that infernal glass."

    I chuckled, holding up my hands in a half-hearted surrender. "Good morning, Selena. Couldn''t resist the dramatic wake-up call."

    Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she muttered a string of curses under her breath, half-directed at me and half at the universe for allowing her nap to be so rudely interrupted. She finally managed a wry smile, "You know, one of these days, I''m going to rig that beaker with something just to teach you a lesson."

    Laughing, I countered, "Oh, you know it wouldn¡¯t work. That one was the one you rigged this time, wasn¡¯t it?" I pointed to another beaker on the table, hinting at our ongoing pranks.

    She dragged herself off the table and hunched over, then reached for the beaker I indicated. With a mischievous glare, she hurled it at me. I didn¡¯t move, letting the beaker fly past. It shattered against the wall, exploding into a mass of glowing slime that began to eat away at the wall.

    "Nice try!" I exclaimed, admiring the slowly dissolving wall. "But you''ll have to do better than that."

    She sighed and shook her head, a smile breaking through her feigned annoyance. "Just wait, Chronos. One of these days, I''ll catch you off guard."

    ¡°We shall see,¡± I said.

    "Sixteen hours of sleep across four days isn''t enough for anyone, let alone during a research binge," she yawned widely, stretching her arms above her head.

    "Only you would consider a marathon session of sleep deprivation a ''binge.'' How deep did you dive this time?" I asked, leaning against a nearby table filled with buzzing equipment.

    Straightening up, she rotated her shoulders, releasing a symphony of cracks and pops. "Hit the thirty-two-day mark. Had a breakthrough about the rifts. Thought I was on to something monumental." I raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

    "Rifts? Anything I should be worried about?" She shuffled over to a cluttered desk, rifling through piles of papers and opened a drawer to pull out a thick file.

    "As my initial hypothesis regarding rifts is that they are more similar to gates than we believe them to be. However it¡¯s worse than we thought. Did you hear about the rift that appeared about a month ago in Hawaii? Turns out that the rift didn''t just open naturally. And, it''s much worse than we thought after getting boots on the ground.¡±

    I took the file she handed me, flipping it open. The contents sent a chill down my spine. The photographs showed a small town, eerily silent, with a gaping rift in the center. Surrounding it were the bodies of civilians in a grotesque tableau of despair and horror. Each was naked and positioned kneeling, bound, and blindfolded, their heads thrown back in silent screams, and on their bodies were sigils carved into their flesh. The ground around their knees stained with dried blood and signs of their last living moments spent in terror. It was a macabre ritual, thirty souls used as unwilling sentinels to whatever horrors lay beyond that rift. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    This reeks of them and their work¡­

    ¡°Did they-¡±

    "Yes," she said, her voice low and heavy with implication. "Someone forcibly opened a rift by using people as a proxy. That¡¯s not even the worst of it.¡± She nodded towards the file in my hands motioning me to check the next page. Dropping the images onto the table I began to read the report.

    Confidential Report: Incident Analysis

    Location: [Redacted], near [Redacted]

    Date: [Redacted]

    Reporting Officer: [Name Redacted]

    Executive Summary:

    This report details the findings from the preliminary investigation into the incident at the small town of [Redacted], where an artificial rift appeared, leading to the mass casualty event of thirty civilians. The site has been secured, and detailed forensic analysis is ongoing.

    Incident Description:

    At approximately [Redacted] hours on [Redacted], local law enforcement was alerted to a disturbance in the town of [Redacted]. Upon arrival, officers discovered a horrifying scene: thirty civilians deceased in a ritualistic formation around a newly formed rift. Each individual was positioned kneeling, blindfolded, gagged, and with hands tied behind their backs. Signs of struggle and distress were evident.

    Observations:

    <ol>

    <li style="font-weight: 400">Rift Characteristics:</li>

    <ul>

    <li style="font-weight: 400">The rift measured approximately [Redacted] meters in diameter.</li>

    <li style="font-weight: 400">Preliminary scans indicate the rift''s energy signature matches known interdimensional breaches but shows anomalies that suggest artificial manipulation.</li>

    </ul>

    <li style="font-weight: 400">Victim Analysis:</li>

    <ul>

    <li style="font-weight: 400">All victims were local residents, ranging in age from 22 to 65.</li>

    <li style="font-weight: 400">Preliminary autopsy reports suggest the cause of death as asphyxiation.</li>

    <li style="font-weight: 400">All victims had sigils cut into their flesh. [sigils can be found on page(s) 12 & 13]</li>

    <li style="font-weight: 400">No immediate signs of physical violence or weapon use; however, the psychological torture element is clear.</li>

    </ul>

    <li style="font-weight: 400">Area Survey:</li>

    <ul>

    <li style="font-weight: 400">No witnesses have come forward; surveillance systems in the area were found disabled.</li>

    <li style="font-weight: 400">Environmental analysis shows no signs of chemical agents or residues that could suggest an explosion or natural disaster triggered the event.</li>

    </ul>

    </ol>

    Hypotheses:

    <ol>

    <li style="font-weight: 400">Forced Summoning: The arrangement of the bodies and their proximity to the rift suggest a forced summoning scenario where these individuals were used as a catalyst or offering to open or stabilize the rift.</li>

    <li style="font-weight: 400">Controlled Experimentation: The precision of the rift¡¯s characteristics suggests that this event was not an accident but a controlled, experimental manipulation of rift technology.</li>

    </ol>

    Recommendations:

    <ol>

    <li style="font-weight: 400">Security Measures: Immediate reinforcement of dimensional monitoring protocols.</li>

    <li style="font-weight: 400">Investigation Expansion: Engage with interdimensional experts and increase surveillance on known rift manipulators.</li>

    <li style="font-weight: 400">Community Support: Psychological and community support for the town to deal with the trauma and media attention.</li>

    </ol>

    Conclusion:

    This incident marks a significant escalation in the use of rift technology as either a weapon or gateway to an unknown goal. The ability to artificially create and manipulate rifts poses an immense threat not only to national security but also to the fabric of reality itself. It is imperative that this investigation receives full support to uncover the parties responsible and to prevent further incidents of this nature.

    With all the redacting I''m surprised anything gets done...

    After reading the report I looked up at Selena as she cracked open an energy drink. ¡°So they failed¡­¡± I looked back up at her, searching for confirmation in her weary eyes.

    She took a long gulp of her drink before responding, confirming the suspicion. "Yes, their objective, whatever it was they intended by opening that rift, clearly wasn''t met. The autopsy revealed that the victims were deceased before the rift even fully manifested. And regarding the items recovered..." She gestured towards a heavily sealed briefcase surrounded by sigils and a central cross.

    "Demonic artifacts..." I murmured, my blood beginning to boil.

    "Exactly," she affirmed, her voice firm. "And I''ve been tasked with untangling this mess." She paused, her gaze drifting away momentarily as if weighing her next words. "Chronos, I¡¯m not asking for your involvement. You¡¯ve been pulled into enough of my cases, and Amelia wouldn''t forgive me for dragging you into another. I¡¯m only telling you because you would have found out one way or another. Since it has some essence regarding demons I know you, without a doubt, would have joined the investigation."

    You know me too well.

    Her sincerity was palpable, but the underlying tension hinted at the grave nature of the situation. "But if it comes to it, and I need your expertise, would you help me?"

    My nod was solemn. "You know I will, Selena. Just give the word."

    A grateful smile crossed her lips, mixed with relief. "Thank you. Let''s hope it doesn''t come to that. But I''ll keep you in the loop. Now, what brings you here, really?"

    "Rai," I said simply. "You remember my Disciple?"

    She chuckled. "The prodigy you can''t stop talking about? Raiden was his name, yes?"

    "There''s a reason to be proud." I brushed off her teasing. "But there''s an issue. He''s 15 and still hasn¡¯t awakened. No revelation, nothing."

    She paused, her drink halfway to her lips. "And? It¡¯s not uncommon for awakenings to happen later on. Last week a man at the age of 82 had awakened. What makes you think he''s different?"

    "I believe something is blocking him from his revelation."

    Her brow furrowed in skepticism. "And what leads you to believe that?"

    "His commitment and passion are unmistakable, he¡¯s driven by combat, yet no insights have come. It''s as if there¡¯s a wall."

    Her eyes narrowed slightly as she processed the information, the usual spark of intrigue beneath her ostensibly indifferent facade. "Did you feel it then?" she inquired, her tone casual but her interest barely veiled by a thin layer of professional detachment.

    "Yes," I affirmed, my response firm and clear. "But there¡¯s no physical marker, no sigil or seal. I¡¯ve checked thoroughly, Selena. Nothing."

    "And his aether realm?" She continued, her feigned disinterest slipping as the topic piqued her curiosity.

    "I¡¯ve been there, and it¡¯s... unusual, which is why I need your expertise," I explained, knowing full well that the mystery would be irresistible to her.

    A light flickered in her eyes, the scientific fervor she often masked flaring up. "You, Chronos Elior, asking me to dive into potential blockages in an awakening? It must be a compelling anomaly if it¡¯s got you reaching out."

    She leaned forward, her initial show of indifference crumbling as her enthusiasm for a new challenge took over. "So, when do I get to meet him?"

    "That depends on your schedule," I replied, watching her carefully.

    She paused, momentarily caught off guard by the realization of what I said. "You haven¡¯t registered him yet, have you?"

    "No, I haven¡¯t," I admitted, watching her reaction closely.

    "Why not? You could easily register him as your disciple, ensuring a smoother transition once he awakens." Her frustration was evident, though tinged with a hint of excitement at the complexities of the situation.

    I grinned, acknowledging her astute understanding. "Because, Selena, if he were to gain that level of clearance and start meeting with an Ascendant of your caliber regularly, he¡¯d be on too many radars."

    Her expression shifted from irritation to a begrudging acknowledgment. "I suppose that¡¯s strategic, albeit overly cautious. But given the stakes, understandable." She leaned back, her scientist¡¯s mind already turning over the possibilities. "Fine, I¡¯ll play along with your cautious approach. But you owe me, Chronos."

    And just like that, you¡¯ve fallen prey to your own curiosity.

    ¡°No, I think I''ll have paid you back in full once you see this,¡± I said with a nod. "And, honestly, you''ll be the one wanting to buy him out."

    Her attempt at nonchalance faltered as her true interest shone through. "Well, when you put it that way... I¡¯m all ears. What¡¯s so special about this kid?"

    "I believe there''s something preventing him from awakening, something not just physical but deeply intertwined with his aether core and realm."Her eyes lit up, the veneer of indifference now completely abandoned in favor of overt enthusiasm. "Now that does sound fascinating. You know I can''t resist a good challenge." She smirked, her earlier pretense of disinterest replaced by an eagerness that was all too characteristic of her when presented with a new scientific puzzle.

    Seeing her barely contained excitement, I couldn''t help but chuckle. "Exactly why I came to you, Selena."

    Suddenly, her demeanor shifted to one of exaggerated awe, and she playfully wiped the corner of her mouth as if catching drool. "Oh, the thought of exploring an aether realm that¡¯s stumped even you? Hold on, is it my birthday?!" She clapped her hands together, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

    "So, when can I meet this prodigy of yours?" she asked, leaning forward, her earlier casual demeanor replaced by keen interest.

    "Let''s set up a time for you to meet him," I suggested, knowing that her scientific curiosity was now fully piqued.

    "Perfect," she replied, practically bouncing in her seat with excitement. "This might just be the most interesting project I''ve had in years!¡±

    Selena sprang from her seat with a vigor that seemed to come from nowhere, her eyes alight with the thrill of a new challenge. "Hold on, I have just the thing to make our meetings a bit more... exclusive," she announced, before plunging headfirst into the chaotic sea that was her lab. All while wiping drool from her face.

    From where I stood, it was like watching a conductor orchestrating a symphony of clutter. She weaved through piles of papers, dodged precarious stacks of tech, and navigated past whirring gadgets. Each time she unearthed something from the rubble, she''d inspect it briefly before discarding it with a decisive "Nope!"

    "Ah, here we are!" Her voice cut through the clatter of discarded tools as she emerged victorious, brandishing a device that looked suspiciously archaic. "This old beauty," she waved it proudly, even though it was cloaked in a thick layer of dust, "will tweak our portal settings for one-way traffic straight to this lab."

    As she blew on the device, a cloud of dust billowed out, prompting me to step back and shield my face. "You might want to give that a clean," I suggested, my voice muffled behind my hand.

    "Nonsense, a bit of dust adds character!" Selena retorted cheerfully, already tinkering with the gadget. "Now, if I can just remember which button not to press..." Her fingers danced over the buttons as she muttered to herself, occasionally causing minor avalanches of nearby tools.

    I couldn''t help but laugh. "Maybe try the one that doesn¡¯t look like it¡¯ll start the apocalypse?"

    Pausing, she glanced down at the gadget, considered it for a moment, then shrugged. "Eh well I modified this years ago. Matter of fact it reminds me I should find the other one my ex boyfriend might still have, but eh, it needs my approval first." With a gleeful grin, she pressed a particularly ominous-looking button.

    You dated someone?

    The device hummed to life, and after a few tense moments, which included a near-miss with a teetering beaker, Selena triumphantly declared, "Done! Now we can have our little meetings without prying eyes. Just you, me, and my new toy- I mean, your disciple."

    I couldn''t suppress a chuckle at her phrasing, shaking my head at the unmistakable spark of mischief in her eyes. "Only you, Selena, could turn a seemingly mundane calibration into a passion project."

    She waved off my comment with a flourish, and tossed me the small device she had hunted down. "Yeah yeah, now shoo. Come by tomorrow anytime. I¡¯d much rather you bring him here now. Which reminds me, why haven¡¯t you?"

    My hesitation didn''t go unnoticed, and as realization dawned on her, her laughter filled the room. "No... are you actually hiding your strength?" She set down her energy drink, a wide grin spreading across her face. "You filthy weeb, you''re pulling the ¡®secretly strong teacher¡¯ trope?"

    Her laughter, rich and unrestrained, echoed through the cluttered lab, and my face turned hot with embarrassment. "You know very well why I hide it," I said while scratching the back of my neck. "Regardless, sometimes a teacher wants to look cool to their disciple."

    "Ah, Chronos," she teased, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. "Never change, Amelia was always happy being around you and taking part in your little antics.¡± She smiled warmly, ¡°Alright, keep your secrets, I expect you to tell him about yourself. But don¡¯t keep me waiting too long. I''m dying to meet this prodigious disciple of yours."

    With that, she shooed me towards the portal with a playful shooing gesture, her earlier seriousness replaced by the lively demeanor that made her such an enigma. I stepped into my portal and found myself back in the corridor near the A.A. portal. I pulled out the small device that Selena handed me.

    The device in question, despite its significance, bore the humble appearance of a simple memento, the kind one might carry for good luck or sentiment. It was roughly the size of a palm, with the thickness akin to a Sharpie permanent marker, making it both discreet and portable. The outer casing was crafted from a dark, aged metal, etched with intricate carvings that whispered of ancient craftsmanship and long-lost techniques. These engravings spiraled around the device, converging towards the center where a gem was embedded, a clear, luminescent aptum crystal. This crystal pulsed faintly with a soft light, I could sense the aura inside the crystal. Its aura felt similar to Selena¡¯s, so she basically made this device a key to her house. Yes, that lab is basically her house.

    I guess I¡±ll just call it a key then. She never really names anything she creates.

    With the key in hand, I do believe it¡¯s finally time for Selena and Rai to meet. This¡­ should go great. Right?