[10th June]
The Capital awakened with the first ray of sunlight.
And with it—turmoil.
Across kingdoms and even within the Empire itself, this day carried weight.
A day etched into the future of countless young martial artists.
The entrance tournament had arrived.
From early morning, the tournament stadium roared with activity.
Final inspections were underway. Every corridor, every seat, every formation was checked and rechecked.
There was no room for error.
The Duke of Ashcroft himself would attend.
Alongside him, nobles from countless houses gathered to watch their heirs and chosen candidates step onto the stage.
The stadium was divided cleanly into three sections.
The public stands.
The noble gallery.
And the elevated platform was reserved solely for the Duke and his family.
Everything was arranged to perfection.
Not only for the matches—
But for what the matches represented.
Because today was not just about entering the University.
It was about being chosen.
Families would be watching closely.
Sponsors would be evaluating silently.
A promising martial artist could walk out of this tournament with resources, backing, and a future secured—In exchange for loyalty.
For many, that bargain was worth everything.
Even a low-tier noble house could provide support far beyond what a commoner could ever dream of.
That was why even those who doubted their chances at university still fought desperately.
This was a battlefield of futures.
And everyone knew it.
—
The Capital's noble district was no calmer.
Servants rushed through estates with double the usual urgency.
Cars were prepared. Attire was selected and reselected.
Inside Rey's modest noble residence, breakfast was already being prepared.
One servant headed upstairs to call him.
Moments later—
The room was empty.
The bathroom, too.
The butler froze.
A flicker of unease crossed his face as he began searching the house, only to be stopped by a maid who watched him curiously.
"What is it?" she asked.
"The young master," he replied. "He's not in his room."
The maid paused, then pointed quietly toward the basement door.
It was slightly ajar.
Light spilt through the edges.
Understanding dawned.
The butler exhaled and made his way down.
—
In the basement, Rey stood shirtless, drenched in sweat.
His body moved through strange, flowing stances—unnatural yet precise.
Each motion bled into the next without pause.
Controlled.Relentless.
"Sir," the butler called out firmly.
"Breakfast is ready. The master will be coming shortly to take you to the stadium. You cannot be late today."
"Five minutes," Rey replied, breath steady despite the strain.
"I need to finish this set."
The butler studied him for a moment, then nodded.
"I'll return in ten."
The door closed.
Rey exhaled slowly.
'Today… I'll succeed.'
He wiped sweat from his brow and adjusted his footing.
"Eleventh set," he murmured.
"No mistakes now."
For five days, he had pushed these stances whenever his body allowed it.
Muscles tore.
Cramps seized him mid-motion.
Pain became routine.
And yet—
Every morning, his body reset.
No stiffness.
No lingering ache.
He didn't understand why, so he didn't question it.
He only trained harder.
Last night, at the martial center, he had finally completed the eleventh set—reaching the twenty-fifth stance before collapse.
He had returned the training room key immediately after.
Progress beyond expectation.
Not just here—
In everything.
His bow techniques had reached their current limit by the third day.
Two arrows fired together with lethal accuracy.
Three arrows… possible, but unreliable.Slow. Inconsistent.
He shelved it.
Curve shots fared little better.
Barely usable.
One successful hit around partial cover was enough for him to recognise its limits.
He didn't chase it further.
Instead, the real gains came elsewhere.
Each day of stance training strengthened his body.
Strength rose.
Agility sharpened.
More importantly—
His body changed.
It became flexible beyond normal limits.
Movement grew smoother, lighter.
Like joints no longer resisted motion.
And then there was mana.
At first, he hadn't noticed.
But one day, during practice, he felt a pull.
A pathway.
The stances guided his mana into specific routes—forcing adaptation.
Once he followed it deliberately, everything accelerated.
From the first set to the third in a single day.
The joy nearly overwhelmed him.
Then reality slowed him back down.
Mana could assist—but the body had to pave the road itself.
Still, each day brought refinement.
Rhythm emerged.
Pain no longer broke the flow.
And now—
Rey stood trembling before the final stretch.
"Last set," he whispered.
"The twelfth."
He launched into motion without rest.
Stance after stance flowed seamlessly.
Twenty.
Twenty-five.
Twenty-nine.
His body rebelled at the final three.
Muscles screamed.
Bones cracked under strain.
"Move!" he snarled.
Bloodshot eyes.
Skin flushed red.
He forced his body forward.
Thirty-first stance completed.
'One more.'
Just one.
As he thrust both hands forward in the final motion—like claws striking—
Something broke.
Not his body.
Something deeper.
His strength vanished instantly.
Rey collapsed.
His entire body trembled violently as he lay sprawled across the floor.
Vision blurred.
But he refused to lose consciousness.
Not today.
Twenty minutes passed in silence.
Slowly, control returned.
His fingers still shook as he pushed himself upright.
Only then did he notice the smell.
Sharp.
Foul.
The sweat pooled beneath him had turned dark.
"…That's new."
He grimaced.
'I'll deal with it after the tournament today.'
He remembered the butler's warning.
'I'm late.'
With a quiet curse, Rey headed upstairs.
"I'm back," he called as he entered the dining room.
"Sorry—got held up. I'll bathe and—"
He stopped.
Someone was already seated at the table.
Both servants stood stiffly behind the chair.
Rey's breath caught.
The day had truly begun.
"So you're the type who would rather break his body than care about the tournament starting today."
Hosric's calm voice echoed through the dining hall.
He sat relaxed in his chair, a porcelain teacup resting between his fingers, steam rising slowly as if mocking the day's urgency.
Rey froze at the entrance.
"O-oh… Uncle. I'm sorry. I was training. I didn't realise you'd arrive this early."
Without waiting for a response, Rey turned and rushed upstairs.
"I'll be back in a few minutes!"
Hosric sighed softly.
"These kids today. Always running before finishing a sentence."
He took another sip of tea, unfazed.
The butler stood beside him, posture straight, eyes sharp.
"You seem unusually patient today, my Lord," the butler said.
"You've waited over half an hour. That's unlike you."
Hosric smiled faintly.
"No. He wouldn't be late without a reason."
The butler blinked.
"You sensed something?"
"Yes." Hosric's eyes narrowed slightly.
"He was at a point where interruption would have been a crime."
For a brief moment, something deep and dangerous flickered in his gaze.
"He gained something today. I'm certain of it."
The butler sighed.
"I still don't fully understand you, my Lord."
Hosric chuckled.
"If anyone ever did, they'd be more dangerous than me."
Upstairs, hot water washed over Rey's exhausted body.
The stench clinging to his skin was far worse than usual.
He frowned.
"That smell wasn't there before…"
Shrugging it off, he summoned his status panel.
For the first time in five days.
───◈◈◈◈◈───
───◈ [Attributes] ◈───
HP: 2,985/2,985 (Reserve Energy: +2,985)
MP: 2,810/2,810 (Mana Overload: +2,810)
Stats:
Strength (STR): 535 [C+] (↑24)
Agility (AGI): 542 [C+] (↑32)
Vitality (VIT): 597 [C+] (↑13)
Intelligence (INT): 562 [C+] (↑9)
Stamina (STA): 581 [C+] (↑54)
Endurance (END): 546 [C+] (↑43)
Luck (LUK): F+ (Dependent on Core)
Free Stat Points: 298 (280↑)
Derived Stats:
Attack Power (ATK): 646.2 [(STR + AGI) * 1.2] (Potential Strength: +642.6)
Magical Power (MGL): 337.2 [INT * 1.2] (Arcane Potential: +337.2)
Defence (DEF): 563.5 [(END + STA) * 1] (Reinforcement Reserve: +563.5)
Art/Technique(s):
Veil of the Unseen Abyss {Stage 0 – Concealment of Shadows} [44.8%] Basic Archery Art {Stage - Beginner} [34%] Scaled Drift Art {Stage 0 - Foundation} [12%]
───◈◈◈◈◈───
[Ding! Several proficiencies have increased.]
[Further gains will be unlocked after the sealing is lifted.]
Rey stared.
"…This much?"
His breath caught.
The gains weren't normal.
They weren't supposed to be possible in five days.
The archery art was expected.
But the footwork…
"Scaled Drift Art…"
He frowned.
"That wasn't something I learned consciously."
Then realisation struck.
The number of sets.
Twelve.
And the proficiency…
Twelve percent.
"…So one full cycle equals one percent?"
His lips twitched.
"One hundred full executions to reach the Beginner stage…"
His shoulders slumped.
"No wonder no one mastered this."
Without mana, this art was pure suicide.
Yet it explained everything.
The recovery.
The body adaptation.
The strange flow inside him.
The stances weren't just movements.
They were carving pathways.
Mana pathways.
"That means…"
Rey clenched his fist.
"I wasn't brute-forcing it. I was building it."
He dismissed the panel and exhaled.
"One day, this foothill will become a peak."
After dressing quickly, Rey retrieved his bow and quiver.
His stomach growled violently.
"…Seriously?"
He hurried downstairs.
Hosric was already standing, coat on.
"Eat," Hosric said calmly."We're not leaving until you do."
Rey opened his mouth to argue.
His stomach answered first.
Hosric laughed.
"Your body doesn't lie. Hurry."
Moments later, Rey stepped outside.
That's when he noticed him.
Another young man stood beside Hosric.
Same posture.
Same pressure.
A younger reflection.
"So this is the one who made us wait."
Fenlor's gaze lingered for a second longer than polite. "You look… unprepared."
Hosric sighed.
"Fenlor. Behave."
He placed a hand on the boy's shoulder.
"Rey, this is my son. Fenlor Valemont. Your cousin."
Fenlor clicked his tongue.
"Rey Dragonstorm." Fenlor nodded once. "I've heard the name."
He extended his hand.
"We'll likely meet inside the University."
A pause. "Let's see who arrives first."
Rey smiled and shook it.
"Same."
Fenlor didn't tighten his grip, but he didn't loosen it either.
Hosric watched silently.
"…So he isn't as withdrawn as my sister said."
Fenlor's eyes drifted to Rey's back.
Fenlor glanced at the bow. "Ranged."
His eyes flicked back up. "That's a choice."
Rey smirked.
"I do."
In a blink, a dagger appeared in his hand.
Fenlor's eyes widened.
Fenlor exhaled slowly. "Hidden weapons too."
A faint smile. "You're harder to read than I expected."
Hosric clapped once.
"Enough. Rey, give me your weapons."
They vanished instantly.
Rey's eyes flickered.
"Storage ring…"
Interesting.
The three entered the car.
Fenlor leaned forward, excitement obvious.
"Let's go already!"
Hosric started the engine.
"Today decides your footing."
The city rolled past them.
And somewhere ahead—
The battle awaited.