By midday, James had already gotten used to the stares.
They weren't the usual kind—the awed ones he used to get when people noticed his eyes. These were quieter. Sharper.
Pity, mostly.
Mixed with a hint of curiosity.
Like watching a once-promising blade snap in half.
General Class D-9 was a mess of outcasts. About two dozen students—some who failed to awaken, others with low-rank affinities or zero combat compatibility. Most kept their heads down. A few were older than him. None spoke when the instructor entered.
Instructor Khorin looked like a man who had seen too many battles and preferred silence to encouragement. His voice was as dry as gravel and twice as blunt.
"Welcome to your second chance," he said without looking up from his clipboard. "No weapons. No glamor. Just body and mind."
He tapped the wall behind him, and three panels slid open to reveal metal rods, each dulled from overuse.
"Drills. Repetition. And if you fall behind, you clean latrines."
He glanced at James. The stare lingered.
Not hostile. Not mocking.
Just… curious.
---
The first hour was physical drills.
Basic strikes with the rods. Stance holds. Push-up circuits. Running in formation.
James didn't complain. He didn't speak.
But he noticed something strange.
His body responded faster than it used to. Subtly at first—his steps hit smoother, his breathing steadied quicker, and his shoulders didn't burn as much during the long sets.
At first, he thought it was adrenaline. Muscle memory.
But then the pulse in his chest came again.
[Solar Core System – Status: Active]
> Passive Buff: Core Link – Strength +1
Fatigue Resistance – Moderate
Threshold Progression: 6%
He almost stumbled.
It wasn't just mental.
He was… stronger.
Not enough to throw boulders or take down Rift beasts. But enough to matter.
Enough to build from.
---
By the time drills ended, sweat clung to every part of him. His shirt stuck to his skin, and his arms felt like sandbags. But he wasn't winded. Not truly.
As the rest of the class wheezed and slumped against the wall, James stood straight, breathing steady.
Khorin noticed.
"You," he said, pointing. "Solkaris, right?"
"Yes, Instructor."
"You've had training."
"A bit."
The man studied him for a long second. Then, without another word, he turned and walked off.
James didn't move.
But when he looked up, a few of his classmates were watching him. One—a tall, wiry boy with short silver hair and bruised knuckles—nodded faintly.
Not approval.
Recognition.
---
Later that evening, James sat on the dorm roof, legs dangling off the ledge, a half-eaten ration bar in one hand. The wind carried the scent of scorched stone and distant flowers. Somewhere far above, an airship thrummed lazily past the rift-lined sky.
The Solar Core screen blinked back to life, no longer faint.
[User Status]
> Name: James Solkaris
Class: Undefined
Core Sync: 7%
Traits: Core Link (Passive)
Linked Entity: Crimson Egg
Sync Note: Emotional resonance strengthens bond
Suggested Action: Seek pressure events to trigger growth
"Pressure events," James muttered. "What are you, a therapist?"
No answer, of course.
He leaned back.
The egg—this Crimson Entity, this unknown dragon—it was reacting to him. Growing because of him.
That meant whatever power waited inside it… it wasn't separate.
It was his, too.
Not something to summon.
Something to become.
And for the first time since the Awakening—
That idea didn't scare him.
It thrilled him.