The following day arrived early. Eric woke his son at 6:00 AM, carving out extra time for what was to come.
Despite the sleep clinging to his eyelids, Samuel's gaze was sharp. Determination had already replaced exhaustion.
"So, Samuel. Are you ready?"
"Yes. What's the plan? Push-ups, sit-ups, squats?"
Eric chuckled, a low sound in his throat. "What? No. Tell me… what do you actually know about the R.D.D.?"
"Uhh… it's the Regional Defense Department, right?"
"Partially. It's divided into Exploration and Research, and further split into Private and Public sectors."
"Private and Public?" Samuel tilted his head. "What's the difference?"
"Private agents take commissions from individuals—high risk, but the rewards can be astronomical. Public agents work for the Government. The pay is stable, but the missions are mandatory. Rewards fluctuate wildly depending on the rank of the task."
"Woah… I didn't realize there was so much to it. So, which one should I aim for?"
"First, you need to survive the Licensing Exams," Eric said, his tone turning serious. "I'd suggest starting in the Public sector for the experience, while cherry-picking the best Private contracts on the side."
"Understood. And the exams? Do you know what they're like?"
"There are two. The first changes every year—it's a wildcard. The second, however, is a constant: you'll have to face off against the Captains of the various Divisions."
Samuel swallowed hard. "How do I make sure I actually get that license?"
"That's where our training comes in. To secure your future, you'll train both the vessel and the essence—your body and your soul. Only then can you truly wield Elther."
Eric paused, his eyes narrowing. "Do you even know how it works?"
"Not really," Samuel admitted.
Eric cleared his throat, preparing to bridge the gap between myth and reality.
"Listen. Every person possesses a soul. That soul acts as a Vessel—a container meant to hold the mana you absorb from the atmosphere. Once it's stored within you, you can manifest it through techniques or, if you're lucky, through your Resonance."
"Resonance?" Samuel's curiosity peaked. "What's that?"
"Consider it a unique 'flavor' of the soul. It differs from person to person, and not everyone manages to awaken it."
"Got it."
"Perfect. Then talk time is over. It's time to move."
Eric suddenly shifted. He dropped into a peculiar stance: hands raised level with his face, fingers splayed and overlapping, arms tucked close to his ribs in a tight 'V' shape.
Samuel felt the air grow heavy. Tense and unsure of how to navigate a real fight, he threw a desperate left jab.
It was a mistake.
Eric's right hand whipped out, deflecting the punch with a surgical 'parry' that yanked Samuel's entire left side into the open. Before Samuel could even blink, Eric drove a devastating hook into his ribs.
Thud.
Samuel hit the dirt, curling into a ball as the air fled his lungs. The pain was white-hot.
Eric looked down at his son, a flicker of disappointment crossing his features. "We have so much work to do…"
Samuel struggled to his feet, his eyes shimmering with frustrated tears.
A shadow fell over Eric's face, and a smile—chilling and alien—spread across his lips.
"U-uhm… Dad?"
"Don't call me 'Dad' during training!" Eric's voice boomed with the authority of a commander. "From this moment on, I am General Eric! Is that understood?!"
Samuel flinched. "Yes, General!"
"For your failure, you will perform a penalty set: 200 push-ups, 200 squats, 200 sit-ups, followed by a 15-kilometer run. Move!"
Samuel's jaw dropped. "What?!"
Eric's gaze turned predatory. "Do you have something to say, recruit?"
"No… nothing, General!" Samuel stammered, regret washing over him.
"Good. Don't disappoint me. Call me when you're done."
Samuel dropped to the ground and began his first push-up.
Physically, Samuel was unremarkable—176 cm tall, neither particularly muscular nor agile. His only striking feature was his messy, wavy hair, black with a strange violet tint that shimmered in the morning light.
Thirty minutes passed. He was only at 80 push-ups. Sweat soaked the dirt beneath him, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His mind was a haze of burning muscle and agony, yet he didn't stop.
Hours bled into the afternoon. By 4:00 PM, against all odds, Samuel completed the 'punishment.'
Dragging his feet, he found his father, who had just returned from his own work.
"I'm… finished, General."
"Good. Now, the real training begins."
Samuel froze. He thought the punishment was the training.
"First lesson: Elther absorption," Eric commanded. "Close your eyes. Visualize the 'Vessel' within you. Once you see it, use every pore of your skin to pull the Elther from the air and store it inside."
Samuel took a deep breath, forcing his mind to go still. At first, there was only darkness. It took a full minute of agonizing concentration before a faint, translucent shape began to form in his mind's eye—the Vessel.
"I see it," he whispered.
"Good. Now feel the Elther around you. Pull it in."
With a Herculean effort, Samuel tugged at the invisible energy. He felt a tiny, flickering spark settle into his core. It was barely anything, but it was there.
"A start," Eric nodded. "Here is the roadmap: Physical conditioning, hand-to-hand combat, weapon mastery, and finally, Elther Affinity. The first Certification Test is in seven months. If I don't think you're ready in six, you'll wait until next year."
He stepped closer, placing a hand on Samuel's trembling shoulder.
"Don't worry about school. I've already withdrawn you. I told them you're training for the R.D.D. I expect greatness from you, Samuel. Don't make me a liar."
Samuel exhaled, his lungs burning, his spirit exhausted but ignited.
"Understood… General."