Two weeks passed in a blur of sweat and steel.
Arthur fell into a routine. Wake before dawn. Light breakfast in the nearly empty dining hall. Training centre by the time the sun crested the eastern walls. Three hours of sword forms. An hour of spell practice. Lunch. Another two hours refining techniques. Study in his room. Dinner. Sleep. Repeat.
The Academy remained quiet. A handful of early-arrival students trained in their own rhythms, nodding at each other in passing but rarely speaking. Most were second- or third-year students preparing for the coming semester. A few fellow first-years who, like Arthur, had nowhere else to be.
The First Form became second nature. His body remembered the twelve movements without conscious thought. The mana circulation flowed smoothly through the pathways he'd carved through repetition. He could now execute the full sequence and channel lightning through the final strike consistently, though the wooden practice blade still couldn't hold the charge for more than a heartbeat.
Progress on the Second Form was slower. The movements were more complex, requiring faster transitions and split-second timing. Arthur managed the first four movements cleanly. The fifth gave him trouble. The sixth remained out of reach.
His spells improved. Lightning Bolt fired faster, struck harder. The mathematical formula became instinctive rather than something he had to consciously construct. Spark Shield held longer, the crackling barrier of electricity more stable. He'd even started experimenting with casting while moving, though that usually ended with the spell fizzling or firing wide.
His body healed completely. The injuries from the wolf fight faded to distant memories. His shoulder moved freely. His ribs felt solid. Even his ankle stopped aching entirely.
And underneath it all, his core built pressure.
Arthur felt it every time he meditated. That sensation of energy coiling tighter and tighter, compressed into a space that couldn't quite contain it anymore. His mana capacity hadn't increased, but the quality was changing. The white glow of his Apprentice core seemed denser somehow.
The breakthrough was close.
Arthur checked his system on the morning of the fourteenth day.
║ NOVA SYSTEM ║
NAME: Arthur Reinhart [Dual Soul - 42%]
AGE: 17
RACE: Human
CORE INFORMATION:
Rank: Lower Apprentice Core Colour: White Max Potential: Lower Master
AFFINITIES:
Lightning
MARTIAL ARTS:
Thunder Blade Style (Uncommon) Mastery: 35% A sword technique that channels lightning through the blade, increasing speed and power.
MAGIC SPELLS:
Lightning Bolt (Common) Mastery: 74% Fires a concentrated bolt of lightning at a target. Spark Shield (Common) Mastery: 58% Creates a brief barrier of crackling electricity.
SKILLS:
[None]
TRAITS:
[???]
The Dual Soul percentage had climbed from thirty-seven to forty-two. Five percent in two weeks. The progression was slowing compared to the massive jump after the wolf fight, but it was still moving. Arthur's spell mastery had jumped significantly. Thunder Blade Style had gone from twenty-eight to thirty-five percent.
And his core was screaming for a breakthrough.
Arthur dismissed the system and headed for the training centre. Not the main hall this time. The mana circulation chambers.
He'd avoided them until now. They were designed for exactly this purpose, providing an environment saturated with ambient mana to help practitioners push through rank barriers. But they also required focus and patience. Hours of sitting still, meditating, slowly absorbing energy and coaxing your core to expand.
Arthur had been too focused on physical training to sit still.
Today, that changed.
The circulation chambers occupied multiple floors in the eastern wing of the training centre. A quieter section far from the combat rings and spell ranges. Arthur climbed the stairs to the third floor and found the directory board.
Mana Circulation Chambers - Floor 3 (Basic):
Chambers 301-325: 23 Available, 2 Occupied
Floor 4 (Intermediate):
Chambers 401-450: All Available
Floor 5 (Advanced):
Chambers 501-530: All Available
Arthur scanned the list. The basic chambers on floor three would work fine. The intermediate and advanced ones were designed for higher ranks, with denser ambient mana that would overwhelm someone at his level.
He picked chamber 312. Pushed open the heavy door.
The room was small. Maybe ten feet square. The walls were carved stone covered in intricate arrays that glowed faintly with contained mana. The floor was smooth wood with a circular pattern inlaid in silver. At the centre sat a cushion.
Arthur could feel the difference the moment he stepped inside. The ambient energy was thick here, concentrated by the arrays. Every breath pulled in mana along with air. His core responded immediately, reaching for the available energy like a drowning man gasping for air.
He closed the door. The sound echoed, then faded to silence.
Arthur moved to the centre and sat cross-legged on the cushion. The silver pattern beneath him pulsed once, acknowledging his presence. The arrays brightened slightly, responding to his mana signature.
He closed his eyes.
Turned his attention inward.
His core sat just below his sternum. A sphere of white energy, rotating slowly, dense with compressed mana. The product of seventeen years of gradual accumulation and two weeks of intensive training.
But it was full. Packed to capacity. Every pathway leading to it was saturated. There was nowhere for new energy to go in its current state.
Arthur took a breath. Let it out slowly.
Time to expand.
He began pulling in ambient mana. The chamber made this easy. Energy saturated the air around him, drawn in with each breath. It flowed through his pathways toward his core, accumulating at the boundary like water pressing against a dam.
His core resisted. It had been this size for months. The original Arthur had been stuck at Lower Apprentice for a while, slacking on cultivation. The structure had settled, rigid and familiar.
Arthur pushed. Not hard. Not yet. Just steady pressure. Testing.
The core's surface flexed. Barely. A fraction of give that disappeared the moment he eased back.
'This is going to take a while.'
Arthur settled into the rhythm. Draw in mana. Let it accumulate. Apply pressure. Hold. Release. Push again.
The chamber's arrays pulsed in time with his breathing. The ambient mana flowed toward him in gentle currents, drawn by his cultivation. His pathways filled with energy, denser than usual. Like trying to push honey through veins designed for water.
Minutes passed. The pressure built slowly, incrementally. Arthur's core expanded by fractions so small they were almost imperceptible. But the give was there. Real progress, even if glacial.
His concentration narrowed. The world outside the meditation disappeared. There was only the core. The mana. The gradual expansion.
Time lost meaning.
Sweat began to bead on his forehead despite the cool air. The strain of holding so much mana in circulation was taking its toll. His pathways burned with the effort. Not painful yet, but uncomfortable. A warning that he was approaching limits.
Arthur ignored it. Pushed harder.
The ambient mana responded. More energy flowed toward him. The arrays brightened further, feeding power into the chamber's atmosphere. His core flexed under the increased pressure.
Then it gave. Just slightly. A millimetre of expansion that felt monumental.
Arthur gasped. The sudden give almost made him lose focus entirely. He caught himself, stabilised the circulation, then pushed again while the core was still flexible.
Another millimetre. Then another.
The pressure built to a crescendo. Arthur's entire body trembled. His breathing came in short, controlled bursts. Every pathway felt like it was on fire, stretched beyond comfortable limits by the sheer volume of mana flowing through them.
'Almost. Just a little more.'
He drew in every scrap of ambient mana within reach. The chamber's arrays flared bright, pumping energy into the air faster than he could absorb it. His pathways filled to bursting. The pressure against his core became almost unbearable.
Then something fundamental shifted.
The core's rigid boundary dissolved. For a single, terrifying heartbeat, Arthur's core was formless. Just raw mana spinning freely in the space below his sternum, uncontained and chaotic.
Panic flashed through him. This was the dangerous moment. If he lost control now, if the mana dispersed instead of reforming—
The energy snapped back together.
Larger. The sphere reformed, maybe twenty percent bigger than before. The white glow intensified, brighter and more concentrated. The chaotic spin settled into smooth rotation.
Middle Apprentice.
The transformation cascaded outward immediately. His pathways widened to accommodate the increased flow. His body underwent subtle changes—muscles grew marginally denser, bones slightly stronger. Not dramatic, but present. The first small step of the metamorphosis that would continue with each rank.
Arthur's eyes snapped open.
He was drenched in sweat. His hands shook. The chamber's arrays had dimmed considerably, drained by his breakthrough. The air felt thinner, normal.
But his core...
Arthur looked down at his hands. Channelled a thread of mana into his palm. The energy that emerged was different. Purer. More refined. The white had deepened, the quality improved beyond what simple quantity could achieve.
He stood slowly. His legs felt strange. Not weak, but different. The additional density in his muscles was minor, but noticeable. This body had already been more capable than Oscar's ever was. Now it was another step removed from baseline human.
Arthur opened the chamber door and stepped into the hallway. Normal air rushed in, feeling almost thin after the saturated atmosphere inside.
He'd done it. Middle Apprentice.
The walk back to his dorm felt different. Each step landed with slightly more weight. His perception felt sharper, colours more vivid. Or maybe that was just his imagination. Hard to tell what was real improvement versus what was euphoria from successfully breaking through.
His room was exactly as he'd left it. Arthur sat at his desk and looked out the window at the Academy grounds bathed in afternoon light. He'd entered the chamber mid-morning. Hours had passed without him noticing.
Two weeks of grinding. And it had paid off.
But the breakthrough also crystallised something that had been nagging at the edge of his thoughts.
He needed more than just training. Spell mastery and martial art forms would only take him so far. He needed actual advantages that average talent couldn't provide.
Arthur thought about the ancient rift he'd read about early in the novel. Lloyd had stumbled across it by accident during his first month at the Academy, exploring the forest northwest of campus. The rift was hidden in a ravine about an hour's walk from the outer walls, marked by a pair of stone pillars carved with pre-Disaster script that most people couldn't read anymore.
A trial of wit. Puzzles and challenges that were designed to test mental acuity rather than combat prowess. The novel had described Lloyd fumbling through it, brute-forcing solutions with his multiple affinities when clever thinking would have worked better. He'd succeeded eventually and earned a skill that, for some inexplicable reason, Lloyd had completely ignored afterwards. Never experimented with it. Never pushed it to see what it could actually do. Just filed it away like it was worthless.
'Almost like his brain was filled with stones. You get a rare skill from an ancient trial, and you just... don't use it? What kind of protagonist does that?'
But Lloyd's stupidity was Arthur's opportunity.
The skill was still there, waiting in that rift. And more importantly, this was probably the only chance Arthur had at getting a skill that didn't involve fighting something stronger than him. Corrupted monsters were random drops at best, and they required you to win the fight first. Ancient rifts were one-time opportunities that disappeared once cleared, but this one tested intelligence instead of raw power.
'In a straight fight against any of the Blessed Generation, I'd be dead before I could finish casting Lightning Bolt. But puzzles? That's different.'
Arthur had two lifetimes worth of problem-solving experience. Oscar's education and Arthur's training. And he knew what the trial would throw at him.
That had to count for something.
'Theoretically, I should be able to handle that.'
Theoretically, being the keyword.
Arthur had died once already by underestimating danger. The wolf should have killed him. Would have, if it hadn't already been dying. Charging into an ancient rift, even one designed for mental challenges, could easily be another fatal mistake.
But sitting around training for six weeks wasn't going to close the gap between him and the real talents. Lloyd. Aria. Princess Seraphina. The Blessed Generation that was about to descend on this Academy and make everyone else look like children playing with wooden swords.
He needed edges. Advantages. Things that talent alone couldn't replicate.
Six weeks until the Academy year starts. Six weeks until Lloyd arrived and the story kicked into gear.
Arthur stood from his desk. His body still felt strange, like wearing clothes that were almost the right size but not quite broken in yet. The metamorphosis would settle over the next day or two as everything adjusted.
Tomorrow he'd return to regular training. Push his spell mastery higher. Work on the Second Form. Get used to moving with this slightly enhanced body.
And in a few days, once he'd stabilised, he'd scout that ravine. See if the ancient rift was actually there. See if attempting it was viable or just another creative way to get himself killed.
'At least if I die in a trial of wit, it'll be embarrassing instead of tragic. "Here lies Arthur Reinhart, died because he couldn't solve a puzzle, a protagonist with rocks for brains managed to brute-force." Great epitaph.'
Arthur shook his head. One step at a time.
He'd broken through to Middle Apprentice. That was progress. Real, earned progress.
The ancient rift could wait a few more days.
Everything else could wait until tomorrow.