Inside the cave, Leona rested with her head slumped gently against the jagged wall, her breathing steady and even. Morning sunlight filtered through the gaps in the foliage outside, its rays slowly creeping along the stone floor, catching her face in a soft glow. The warmth stirred her from slumber.
"Mmm…" she groaned, stretching stiff limbs and wincing slightly at the soreness that had crept into her back.
Her first instinct was to check on the unconscious girl lying beside her was another maid, barely fifteen, and the youngest servant from the Valecross estate. Her breathing was calm now, her brows unknit, but the memory of the night before rushed back with bitter clarity.
She had likely fainted from shock which was understandable, given how close she had come to being violated by those bandits. Her torn clothes were a clear reminder of it.
Leona reached over to adjust the girl's cover only to freeze.
Her eyes narrowed.
The cloth now covering the girl's chest wasn't part of her uniform. It was Ezra's tunic.
Her head turned sharply toward the opposite side of the cave where he had collapsed the night before. But the space was empty.
Panic clutched at her chest.
Had he left? Was he attacked? Or... her expression darkened, was there a reason he had taken his shirt off and put it on a half-naked unconscious girl?
Her breath quickened, and she dashed out of the cave, boots skidding slightly on the dirt. Her eyes scanned the trees. "Ezra!" she called. No response.
Then came a faint sound of grunting, rhythmic and sharp, followed by the dull thud of something striking wood.
She ran.
The noise guided her deeper into the woods, until she came upon a clearing hidden behind a thicket of dense shrubs. Pushing through, her eyes widened in disbelief.
There, in the center of an open glade, was Ezra.
His body glistened with sweat, the morning sun reflecting off his bare back. He was swinging a crude axe downward with both hands, chopping into a thick log half-buried in the earth. His silver hair clung to his forehead, his jaw clenched in agony and effort.
Leona stood in stunned silence. The weak, cowardly boy she once knew... the same one who used to hide behind her skirt when the other children mocked him was gone.
Each swing of the axe was sloppy, unbalanced, and visibly painful. But he didn't stop.
'Hell… fucking hell…' Ezra cursed silently as the pain in his shoulders spiked again. His muscles trembled. His legs buckled with each motion. It was unbearable.
But necessary.
He needed a body that could survive. That could fight.
He wasn't gifted with mana. He didn't even know who this body had belonged to before he woke up inside it. But if strength was the only currency this world accepted, he would mint his own one swing at a time.
He grit his teeth and took one final swing before the axe slipped from his hands, thudding into the dirt. Ezra dropped to his knees, gasping, muscles twitching uncontrollably. Sweat dripped from his chin to the soil below.
"Y-Young Master Ezra!"
Leona's voice cut through the pounding in his skull. He looked up slowly, his expression unreadable.
She rushed forward instinctively, but stopped short as his sharp, emotionless eyes locked with hers. There was no fear in them, no pain just focus.
Her hand hovered near his shoulder, unsure whether to help or keep her distance.
"Oh... it's you," Ezra muttered, his body relaxing slightly now that he'd confirmed it wasn't a threat. In the forest, everything was a potential enemy. He couldn't afford to drop his guard.
"I'm fine. Just... grab the fruit by the tree. Wrapped in leaves." He nodded weakly toward a large oak not far off, where bundles of leaves rested at its base.
Leona blinked, still taken aback, but did as she was told. When she unwrapped the leaves, her eyes widened.
Inside were clean, fresh forest fruits red-gold berries, pale green nuts, and a pair of soft plum-like fruits. All edible and healthy. She looked back at Ezra in confusion.
He had picked them correctly...
Ezra, who hated fruits. Who barely passed his survival classes. How?
A strange feeling crept into her chest. Gratitude. But also guilt. She had doubted him.
She turned back toward the cave, carrying the fruit carefully.
Ezra remained still, catching his breath. As he stared off into the trees, his thoughts shifted back to his progress.
'Finally' he thought. 'I've finally reached the Flicker stage.'
Aura.
A lost path for most in this world, forgotten in the shadows of mana. Unlike mana, which was cultivated through meditation, lineage, and talent, aura demanded something far more primal.
Willpower.
Discipline.
Pain.
It was the raw energy of one's life force, honed through physical conditioning, mental clarity, and a desire to transcend limits. Few chose this path because few could endure what it required.
But Ezra had no choice. With no mana, aura was his only weapon.
In this world, aura had its own hierarchy different from the conventional mage ranks.
[Flicker Stage] – The awakening. A faint awareness of one's aura, like a candle flickering in the wind. It brought heightened sensitivity to movement and physical awareness, but little else. It was also the most painful, as the body adjusted to the presence of raw energy coursing through it.
[Ember Stage] – At this level, the aura begins to solidify. The user can exert small bursts of power, increasing strength or reflexes momentarily. It often results in internal injuries if overused.
[Kindle Stage] – The aura grows steadier, like a flame that refuses to be snuffed out. Physical enhancement becomes more reliable. Some aura users develop a unique "signature" aura akin to a passive trait or ability rooted in their personality or past.
[Blaze Stage] – Few reach this. At this level, aura radiates visibly. Movements become faster than the eye can track, and attacks begin to carry energy that can damage armor or break magical wards. The user's aura can extend beyond their body.
[Inferno Stage] – A mythical rank. Said to make the user a one-man army. The body becomes a vessel of pure power, and the aura can burn through spells, tear through beasts, and challenge the elite mages of noble houses.
Ezra exhaled slowly. He had only touched the [Flicker Stage]. The beginning.
But it was a start.
Back at the Cave
Leona sat near the small fire she had reignited. The younger maid, Mira, had stirred and now rested against the stone wall, slowly chewing a piece of fruit. But her eyes remained hollow. Traumatized.
Her gaze shifted to the entrance as Ezra returned, his tunic back on and stained with dirt and sweat. When Mira saw him, her entire body tensed.
"Y-You…!" she whispered, voice tight with fear and confusion. She clutched her arms tightly over her chest.
Ezra didn't flinch. He didn't stop. He simply walked past her, sat down against the opposite wall, and closed his eyes.
Leona looked between them, hesitating.
"Ezra," she said, voice low. "She... she thinks you—"
"I know," he replied, eyes still closed.
His tone was cold. Detached.
Leona flinched. "You don't care?"
Ezra slowly opened his eyes, locking them with hers.
"Would it change anything if I did?"
Leona felt her breath catch. He wasn't being cruel. He wasn't angry. Just... indifferent.
"There wasn't time to think about appearances," he continued. "She would have died from exposure. The tunic was all I had. If she wants to hate me for saving her, that's her choice."
Silence fell between them.
Leona turned away, unsure how to respond. For the first time in her life, she felt like she was seeing the world through his eyes.
And it was terrifying.
Ezra rested his head back against the wall, letting the tension drain from his body.
He didn't expect gratitude. Not from them. Not from anyone.
The only approval he needed was his own.
The path he'd chosen was paved with pain, suspicion, and misunderstanding.
But he'd walk it anyway.