The night was quiet when Kael stepped into the training ground again.Two torches burned dimly on the wall, their light trembling like dying breaths.This had become his ritual—train when the world slept, bleed where no one would see.
On the floor were piles of books he'd stolen from the library.Their titles were old, covered in dust.
Principles of Internal Flow.Mana and Muscle.The Nature of Strengthening Magic.
Kael flipped open the first book and muttered,
"Magic, huh? Let's see how this world plays by its rules."
The text said that mana was the breath of the world—an invisible current that flowed through all living beings.It came from the heart, spread through vessels called mana channels, and could be guided by will and emotion.Some used it to control fire.Some to heal wounds.And some, like the Valtor bloodline, used it to harden their bodies beyond human limits.
But the key was not just having mana.It was feeling it.
Kael closed his eyes.He sat cross-legged and tried to sense something—anything—within himself.
Minutes passed.Then hours.Nothing.
He slammed the book shut.
"So this body's supposed to be famous for body-strengthening magic, yet I can't even feel mana? Damn it."
He took a deep breath and focused again. The book said mana moved like breath—inhale, expand, exhale, guide.He repeated that over and over.
Finally, after hours of stillness, he felt something faint—like a pulse of warm water deep in his chest. It flowed sluggishly, heavier than blood, but it was real.
He grinned weakly.
"Found you."
Two Weeks Later
Kael's world had shrunk to the training ground and his room.Days were spent reading and experimenting.Nights were for pain.
He learned that mana was like a wild animal—it resisted control.The moment he tried to direct it, it scattered, slipping out of his grasp. But when he combined his fighter's breathing rhythm from his past life, it started to obey.
He discovered that each muscle could act as a "mana gate."To strengthen an arm, one had to breathe mana into it, circulate it until the limb grew heavier, harder, and faster.It hurt—badly. The pain was like tiny knives cutting through his veins.
But Kael smiled through it.Pain was familiar. Pain meant progress.
Each night, he balanced both worlds—He practiced punches, footwork, and grapples from his MMA days.Then he layered mana over them, reinforcing every strike.
After two relentless weeks, his arms stopped shaking from exhaustion. His body felt denser, sharper—like steel bound by will.
He stood before the mirror, bandages wrapped around his bruised hands, and whispered:
"Now I have everything I need to face that dungeon…"
He looked out the window, at the distant mountains where Parelleso Dungeon waited.
"Except permission."
A smirk spread across his lips.
"But since when did villains ask for permission?"