Kene walked toward the line of guards, his ears catching fragments of hushed conversation. None of it surprised him.

  “That’s Areth’s son, the cripple—”

  “Shut up, idiot. He could hear you.”

  “Didn’t he get assassinated? He looks completely fine.”

  “Why is he here instead of fixing the food crisis?”

  “Is it true he can’t even cast spells?”

  Kene found it more amusing than insulting and made sure none of it showed on his face. From his perspective, only days ago he had possessed enough power to flatten the entire territory with a basic artillery spell. Now, he was weaker than he had been at Ester’s age in his previous life.

  His thoughts drifted briefly to the others who had regressed alongside him. he thought.

  He could not imagine Quach ever being weak. The man had been formidable even as a mortal.

  Knight Merva stood before the assembled guards and spoke.

  “As you all know, Master Ester will be joining our training for the foreseeable future. I’ve made it clear to him that there will be no special treatment.”

  A visible shift passed through the ranks. Disgruntled expressions softened, and a few guards failed to hide their sharp, almost eager smiles.

  Kene thought.

  Knight Merva continued, her voice crisp. “We’ll begin with morning laps. Six rounds around the courtyard. The last three will complete an additional three laps. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, Knight Merva!” the guards replied in unison.

  “Good. Begin.”

  The formation surged forward.

  Kene settled into a steady pace near the middle of the group, intent on stress-testing his new body. His Tier One physique handled the first four laps without issue. By the fifth, his lungs burned and his legs began to ache.

  Considering Ester had barely exercised in the past, this was better than expected. Most of it, he knew, was thanks to his enhanced body rather than conditioning.

  Ahead of him, five guards ran easily, barely breaking a sweat. Kene noted them carefully. They were potential candidates for future Enforcer awakenings.

  By the sixth lap, Kene was running on fumes and fell toward the back of the pack. Still, he felt no discouragement. He had pushed his body to its current limit, which was exactly what he needed in preparation for future breakthroughs.

  “Stop!” Knight Merva’s voice rang out.

  The guards slowed to a halt, breathing hard but disciplined. No one collapsed or sat down. That alone spoke volumes about the standards she enforced.

  “Well done, Gorjan, Henrier, and Mael,” Merva said. “Top three. Your dedication is noted.”

  She turned toward the rear of the line, her expression neutral.

  “Ester, Asden, Jenna. You were the last three. Additional three laps. Now.”

  Kene moved immediately. His body had begun to recover, but the burn crept back in as soon as he pushed forward.

  he thought.

  While sprinting, Kene began drawing mana from the atmosphere. Power flooded his body, easing his breathing and tightening his muscles like coiled springs.

  This had been one of the most effective body-tempering methods of the golden age. When muscles reached exhaustion, they accepted mana far more readily as fuel and reinforcement.

  By the end of the first lap, he had completed five full cycles of mana circulation. He could manage more while seated, but doing so while running required far greater focus.

  On the second lap, he forced two additional revolutions, bringing the total to seven. That was his limit. His circulation slowed during the third lap, unable to maintain the same pace.

  “Stop!”

  Merva’s command snapped him out of his cultivation focus.

  Fatigue hit him all at once. Kene dropped to one knee, breathing hard. Looking inward, he saw that his mana veins were slightly thicker and his muscles more saturated with mana than before. The change was minor, but satisfactory.

  When he looked up, he froze.

  Merva’s expression hovered between shock and disbelief. As he scanned the courtyard, he noticed the same look mirrored across many faces.

  It took him a moment to understand why. He had forgotten to regulate his speed while cultivating. To the others, it must have looked as though he had suddenly accelerated far beyond what he should have been capable of.

  Merva’s mouth opened, then closed. After a moment, she spoke.

  “Congratulations to Ester for his effort,” she said evenly. “Asden, Jenna, follow his example next time. Give everything you have.”

  She turned back to the group. “Five-minute break. Then weight training and spear drills.”

  The guards dispersed, though many cast lingering glances in Kene’s direction.

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  Merva approached him, her expression conflicted.

  “Master Ester,” she said carefully, “do you have a moment to talk?”

  ***

  Kene already knew what the discussion would be about. He had planned for it the moment he realized his mistake during the laps. The first step was simple. Take control of the dialogue.

  “I know what you wish to ask,” Kene said calmly. “You want to know how I managed that burst of speed during the last few laps, correct?”

  Merva hesitated for a beat before answering. “Yes, young master. No offense, but your—”

  “I don’t look capable of it,” Kene finished for her. “It’s fine.”

  The tension visibly eased from her posture. She was more informal with him than most, but he still outranked her. He had no obligation to explain himself, yet he chose to anyway. Trust, after all, was cultivated.

  “That was because I wasn’t capable of it before,” Kene continued. “Until recently.”

  “As you’re aware, I have no talent for magic due to my disability.”

  Merva nodded solemnly. “I am. I lack talent for the magical arts as well, as do many of the guards here.”

  She paused before adding, “But none of us come from mage bloodlines. We were never subjected to the same scrutiny you endured.”

  “Even so,” she said carefully, “that doesn’t answer my question.”

  “For it to make sense, I’ll need to explain a few things,” Kene replied. “Please bear with me, Knight Merva.”

  He folded his hands behind his back. “I’ve lived with this limitation since birth. After the attempt on my life, I decided it was no longer acceptable to rely solely on others for my safety. I began researching methods to work around my condition.”

  Her eyes widened. “Young master, are you saying you’ve found a way to repair your core?”

  “No,” Kene said immediately. “Nothing of the sort.”

  He let the answer settle before continuing. “What I’ve done is something different. Potentially just as powerful, though it’s still in its infancy. I came across obscure occult research describing isolated tribes on distant islands. Their warriors possessed strength and speed far surpassing the average man, even rivaling mages.”

  Realization dawned on her face.

  “I’m attempting to reverse engineer their methods,” Kene said. “Enhancing the body directly with mana rather than relying on spellcasting. But without centuries of accumulated knowledge, the process is imperfect. It may even be dangerous. I would appreciate discretion.”

  “O-of course, young master,” Merva replied quickly.

  Kene studied her reaction. Disbelief warred with fascination, curiosity mingling with something sharper. Ambition. He smiled inwardly. She was already imagining the possibilities.

  “This path,” Merva asked slowly, “is it truly comparable to magic? Are there ranks?”

  “I’m still defining them,” Kene admitted. “At present, I’d say I’m comparable to a first-circle mage, assuming proper training and a weapon.”

  He deliberately understated it.

  “One could call this the first rank of a body enhancement path.”

  “And you pioneered this yourself?” Merva pressed.

  “No,” Kene said. “I’m merely borrowing existing ideas and refining them. If you wish, I can have Mikkel provide you with the tome I referenced. I should warn you, though. Most mages consider it unremarkable.”

  “How so?”

  “While these warriors exceeded human limits, they were still inferior to higher-circle mages. A few fourth-circle mages, or a single fifth, could overwhelm them. The benefits are front-loaded. At higher levels, magic circles also enhance the body, which narrows the gap.”

  None of that was entirely true, but it fit the narrative he needed.

  “So this is likely a dead end,” Kene concluded, letting frustration seep into his voice. “But it’s the best option available to me.”

  “I understand,” Merva said earnestly. “I’d still like to read the material. Thank you for indulging my curiosity, Master Ester.”

  “It’s no trouble,” Kene replied. “Just continue to push me hard during training. Even if this path fails, I need my body tempered.”

  Her lips curved into a small smile. “Of course. It’s good to see you gaining confidence after so long. And even if your research leads nowhere, I’m sure it could still benefit the territory.”

  The implication was clear. Kene noted it, but said nothing.

  “There’s another matter,” he added. “I want to reinstate the raid on the beast den.”

  Merva straightened.

  He remembered how the previous raid had been approved. Ester had signed off on it without even reading the petition, too cowed to challenge anyone, too intimidated to summon Alton despite the mage’s obligation to assist. Alton, for his part, had been all too happy to ignore the request. The result had been predictable—poor coordination, missing firepower, unnecessary deaths.

  That wouldn’t happen again.

  This time, Kene intended to control the operation personally. He already had the outline of a plan, one that properly integrated both the guard unit and the mages—but first, he needed confirmation. According to the reports, the mine housed veins of Aitum Crystal: a low-grade mana-conductive mineral, unimpressive by golden-age standards, but invaluable in this era.

  If the den was cleared, those crystals would serve as the backbone of his agricultural arrays. Self-powered, scalable, and discreet. Food security came first; everything else followed from that.

  “The previous attempt failed due to poor coordination,” Kene continued. “This time will be different. A successful extermination would help restore your standing as well.”

  Her eyes sharpened. “You would entrust me with that?”

  “We’ll finalize plans with Mikkel tomorrow,” Kene said. “Provided that’s acceptable.”

  “It would be an honor,” Merva replied without hesitation.

  “Good,” Kene said. “Then enough talk. Let’s move on to weight training and spear drills.”

  Merva turned crisply toward the yard. Kene followed, already refining the next stage of his plans.

  ***

  The weight training itself was fairly standard. The guards wore full plate armor while lifting various weights in controlled positions. Rather than splitting training into upper and lower body days, they favored full-body sessions, prioritizing endurance and functional strength.

  Kene pushed himself until failure, then drew on mana cultivation to force his body beyond its limits. That, combined with his earlier sprinting display, seemed to earn him a measure of respect. The guards still kept their distance, too wary of the gap in status to approach him directly, but that did not bother Kene. He neither needed nor sought their approval.

  One thing did catch his attention.

  Henrir, one of the stronger guards, watched him with open hostility whenever he thought Kene wasn’t looking. The young man appeared to be around eighteen, roughly Ester’s age, with platinum-blond hair and a solid build honed by years of training. Kene sifted through Ester’s fragmented memories but found nothing linking the two. No slight. No history. Nothing to justify the animosity.

  At least the boy had the sense not to cause a scene. For that, Kene gave him a measure of credit.

  The final segment of training consisted of spear drills. Here, cultivation offered little advantage. This was a matter of technique, timing, and muscle memory rather than raw strength. Most of the guards moved in practiced rhythm. Kene did not.

  Knight Merva corrected his form repeatedly, adjusting his grip, footwork, and posture. Kene absorbed each correction carefully. In his previous life, he had received basic weapons training at a mage tower, but as his magic advanced, he had abandoned martial practice entirely. The muscle memory had faded long ago.

  Quach and Hiro would have humiliated these recruits, Kene thought wryly. He could almost imagine them arriving as arrogant young masters and causing a spectacle. The image drew a brief smile to his lips.

  They had planned to reunite on the central continent once they regained sufficient power. But with the regression reaching further back than expected, the political map of the world was unrecognizable. Borders, kingdoms, even continents differed from what he remembered.

  We’ll find a way, he thought. We have to.

  Gradually, Merva’s corrections became less frequent. Some of his old instincts resurfaced, rough but serviceable. When his arms trembled on the brink of collapse, Kene began cultivating mid-drill, carefully synchronizing mana circulation with the completion of each spear thrust. On one strike, the air cracked sharply, startling those nearby. He immediately reined it in, adjusting his output.

  By the end of the day, sweat soaked through his clothes and his body throbbed with exhaustion. He had intended to do more, but this body simply couldn’t endure it yet.

  After a quick meal heavy on protein and carbohydrates, Kene barely made it to his bed. His consciousness faded the moment his head touched the pillow.