The morning started with a rare moment of peace. I sat on the porch, nursing a bowl of meat soup, the warmth spreading through my chest. Afterward, I washed in the river, the water steaming slightly against the cool morning air. For a second, I could almost forget the smell of ash.
But the peace didn't last.
When I reached the yard, Mr. Ghale was already waiting. He didn't even say "Good morning."
"Reflexes today," he said, his eyes narrowing.
Without another word, he vanished. My heart spiked. I didn't see him move; I only felt the rush of displaced air. Instinct took over—I threw my body to the left, feeling the wind of his passing brush my ear.
"Whoa, kid," he chuckled, skidding to a halt. "You actually improved a bit. Hahaha! Now, let's see how you handle—"
He didn't finish the sentence. Before I could even blink, his fist was a blur.
THUD.
A heavy blow buried itself deep into my stomach. The air left my lungs in a desperate wheeze, and the world tilted as I crumpled to the dirt, clutching my midsection.
"I guess you aren't ready for close combat yet," Ghale said, looking down at me with that same unsettling grin.
Ghale didn't give me time to breathe. He lunged again, aiming a heavy fist at the exact same spot in my gut. This time, my eyes caught the shift in his weight. I pivoted, the knuckles grazing my tunic—a clean dodge.
But Ghale was a Palentine-rank for a reason.
He didn't miss a beat. As I stepped back, he dropped low and exploded upward. An uppercut. I saw it coming, but my body was too slow to react. His fist connected with my jaw like a hammer hitting an anvil.
The ground disappeared. I felt the terrifying sensation of weightlessness as I was launched into the air, the sky spinning before everything went black.
One minute. Maybe two.
I gasped, my lungs burning as I jolted awake in the dirt. My jaw throbbed, and my head felt like it was filled with lead. But as I looked at Mr. Ghale standing there, waiting, a cold spark ignited in my chest.
Determination.
I pushed myself up, spitting blood into the dust. He came at me again—the same dash, the same heavy punch, the same follow-up. But the "nightmare" was becoming a pattern. I dodged. I ducked. I rolled. Every strike that had floored me minutes ago now whistled harmlessly through the air.
I wasn't just surviving anymore. I was learning his rhythm.
Mr. Ghale's smirk widened, but it wasn't a friendly look. It was the look of a predator finally deciding to hunt.
Suddenly, the air around him seemed to vibrate. He accelerated. His movements shifted from a blur to a total disappearance. My heart hammered against my ribs—not with determination this time, but with raw, cold terror. I realized in that second that he could kill me whenever he wanted.
I dodged by pure, panicked instinct. My body moved before my brain could even process the threat. I was matching him... or so I thought.
Then, Ghale changed the game.
He lunged with terrifying speed, then suddenly "glitched"—slowing down for a fraction of a second before exploding forward again. He broke the rhythm I had just worked so hard to learn. My timing shattered.
CRACK.
His fist caught me square in the chest. I didn't just fall; I was a human projectile. The wind rushed past me until—SLAM. My back collided with a thick oak tree. The wood groaned and splintered under the force of my impact. The entire trunk snapped, collapsing behind me as I fell into the dirt, my vision fading into a haze of grey.
The world was grey and silent. My ribs were a map of agony, and the scent of splintered oak filled my nose. I should have been finished.
But then, deep in the marrow of my bones, something flickered.
It wasn't the warm glow of mana. It was a sharp, jagged surge of heat—a desperate burst of energy that forced my eyes open. My fingers dug into the dirt, and despite the scream of my broken bones, I forced myself up. I stood, blood dripping from my chin, and settled into a shaky fighting stance.
I didn't think. I just went.
I exploded forward. For a microsecond, the world turned into a streak of light. I was faster than I had ever been—faster, perhaps, than even Mr. Ghale expected. But the power was too much. It was like putting a dragon's heart inside a wooden toy.
My lead foot hit the dirt at a lethal speed.
BOOM.
I didn't hit Mr. Ghale. I hit the earth. The ground detonated under the pressure of my own momentum. The last thing I felt was the jarring shockwave traveling up my spine before the darkness finally claimed me.
The first thing I felt was the hum. It was the low, rhythmic vibration of medical mages at work.
I opened my eyes to a blur of white robes and glowing hands. The air smelled of sterilized linen and the sharp, ozone tang of healing spells. My body felt heavy, like it was made of stone, but the agonizing fire in my bones had been reduced to a dull ache.
I looked past the mages, toward the shadows at the back of the room.
Mr. Ghale was there. He wasn't smirking. He wasn't laughing maniacally. He sat on a small wooden stool, his broad shoulders slumped, staring at his calloused hands. For a Palentine-ranked warrior, he looked strangely small. The guilt on his face was thick enough to choke on.
I let out a breath—a dry, raspy sound that was supposed to be a laugh.
"Hey," I whispered, my voice cracking.
Mr. Ghale's head snapped up. His eyes were wide, searching my face for any sign of hatred.
I gave him a weak, tired smile. "It's alright, Mr. Ghale. I'm... still in one piece. Mostly."
The floorboards creaked as Mr. Ghale approached my bed. He didn't stop until he was right beside me, his shadow falling over my sheets. Then, the man who had faced monsters and shattered trees did something I never expected.
He sank to his knees.
A ragged sob escaped his chest, and then another. "I'm sorry, Sogha," he choked out, his voice thick and broken. "I pushed too hard. I almost... I almost lost you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
He repeated it over and over, his forehead resting against the edge of my bed. The "maniacal" teacher was gone; in his place was a man haunted by what he'd almost done.
I reached out a shaky, bandaged hand and rested it on his shoulder. It felt like touching a mountain that was trembling.
"It's fine, Mr. Ghale," I said, my voice quiet but steady. "Don't apologize."
I looked up at the ceiling, feeling the healing magic still humming in my veins. "An injury like this... it's just another lesson. I'll heal. And when I do, I'll be even stronger than before."
The days that followed were a different kind of torture.
Every time I tried to swing my legs over the edge of the bed, my nerves screamed in protest. I was a prisoner in my own skin. Even with the support of a nurse or a wooden crutch, I could barely shuffle a few feet before my knees buckled. I, who had dodged a hundred pebbles, now struggled to cross a room.
But the nights were the worst.
When the sun went down and the hospital grew quiet, the phantom heat of that "burst" would crawl under my skin. My mind would race—looping the image of the fire, the tree, and the crash over and over. My heart would hammer so hard I thought my ribs might crack again.
I couldn't shut it off.
Eventually, a medical mage would come in, their hands glowing with a soft, pale blue light. They would press their fingers to my temples, and the cool wave of sleep-magic would wash over me, forcing my eyes shut.
It was a hollow peace. I was grateful for the rest, but a part of me hated it. I was a fighter being kept alive by the very thing I didn't have: Magic.
A month of recovery had changed me. As I stepped out of the hospital into the crisp morning air, I didn't just feel healed—I felt reforged. My muscles felt like coiled springs, and the ground felt solid beneath my feet.
We didn't go to the training field. Mr. Ghale led me back to his home, his expression uncharacteristically grave.
"I'm not going to throw stones at you today, Sogha," he said, sitting across from me. "It's time I actually taught you the 'How' behind the 'Why.' In this world, there is more than just mana. There are States."
He held up three fingers.
"First is the Body Enhanced State. it pushes the physical vessel to its limit—strength, speed, and durability. Most warriors spend their lives trying to master just this."
He tucked one finger down. "Second is the Mind Enhanced State. It sharpens the senses to a razor's edge. Time slows down. You see the twitch of a muscle before a punch is even thrown. It makes a man a ghost on the battlefield."
Finally, he looked me dead in the eye. "Then there is the third. The Adaptive State. It is the rarest, most lethal power a human can possess. It fuses the Body and Mind into a single, perfect unit. Total synchronization."
He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. "That 'bang' I heard when you crashed? That wasn't just luck. I think you instinctively tapped into the Body Enhanced State. You activated it without knowing it... and it's the only reason you're still breathing."