"When one door closes, another opens."
It was a saying in his family, one he used to roll his eyes at. But now, as Adonis stood before the mirror, toweling off his still-thin body, he finally understood.
His sickness was gone. Not entirely—but enough that he could breathe without wheezing, stand without trembling, and wake up without pain. Awakening had begun healing him from within. Mana now coursed faintly through his veins.
Still, he was far from strong.
Adonis ran a hand over his chest. His body was skin and bones—no muscle, no weight. A sword can be sharp, but without a hilt it is useless, he thought.
In the mirror, he studied himself: dark black hair like his father's, golden eyes that held a calm focus, and fair skin inherited from his mother's noble lineage. A narrow jawline, high cheekbones. Sharp—but not harsh.
"I guess I got lucky," he muttered. "If I had Father's face with this skinny body, I'd look like a bandit's son."
A soft knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.
"Adonis, are you there?" came his mother's voice.
"I'm here," he called back, opening the door.
Caelis entered, holding a scroll wrapped in velvet. Her eyes softened as she took in his face. "You really do look better. Mana's nourishment is doing its work." She stepped closer and handed him the scroll. "This is the breathing technique. But before you open it, you must take a soul oath."
Adonis blinked. "A soul oath?"
She nodded. "Swear it upon your mana. If you share the technique, your magic cultivation will be crippled forever."
He swallowed. "I swear. I won't tell a soul."
Caelis gave a small nod, satisfied. "Then I won't disturb you. Take your time to begin the process. Forming the core is the first true step on your magical path." She turned and left.
Adonis unrolled the scroll with reverence.
"Purple Blood Breathing Technique."
The words were etched in violet ink that shimmered slightly in the light. As he scanned its structure, breathing rhythms, and mana flow channels, his eyes widened. It was refined, incredibly deep, and far more sophisticated than the common techniques he had skimmed in books.
"No wonder it's called a royal-class technique," he whispered. "This alone can change someone's fate."
But just as he began to memorize the breathing pattern—
Another knock.
Adonis opened the door again—and this time, it was Kael, his father. The former adventurer stood in silence for a moment, eyes scanning the scroll in Adonis's hands.
"Close the door," Kael said. "We need to talk."
Adonis obeyed.
His father spoke low, his voice unusually serious. "That technique… it's good. Your mother's family has strong roots. But what I'm about to tell you can never leave this room. Not even your mother knows."
Adonis raised an eyebrow, alert.
Kael stepped closer and pulled something from beneath his cloak: a worn leather pouch. Inside, he retrieved an aged scroll, its edges frayed and yellowed with time.
"Back when I was an adventurer, we joined an S-rank party to explore the Duskwrought Labyrinth. We were just mob-clearers—expendable muscle. But when a dragon attacked us on the lower floors… everyone ran."
He paused. "I got lost. Fell. Ended up on a hidden level."
Adonis listened, wide-eyed.
"For twelve days, I barely survived. But there, in an ancient ruin choked with roots and stone, I found this."
He handed Adonis the scroll.
"I couldn't use it. I'd already formed my core using a standard method. This technique needs to be used before you build your core, not after. I kept it hidden all these years—just in case."
Adonis unrolled it carefully.
The title shimmered faintly in golden ink.
"Immortal's Breath."
"…Flashy name," Adonis muttered. But as he read—his eyes widened.
Unlike the Purple Blood technique, this one seem more advance. It described how to gather mana, through breathing, but unlike previous one it not only nourishes mana core and body, but actually evenly distribute mana to whole body nourishing core, body and soul..
This breathing technique is incredible
Adonis's hands trembled slightly as he looked up. "I'll keep my oath. I'll choose this one."
Kael placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "Hopefully you will make better use of it."
That night, under the moonlight, Adonis sat cross-legged on his bed.
The room was quiet. His body calm. Mind focused.
Slowly, following the rhythm of Immortal's Breath
It spiraled inside him—bright, pure, sharper than any blade. The pattern carved through his mana channels like a sword cutting through silk.
"So fast!" Adonis was shocked by mana absorbing speed.
And there—deep inside his chest—it began.
The flow wasn't violent. It didn't tear through his body or create a whirlwind of change. It was fast, steady, clean.
Minutes passed. Then hours.
Eventually, something inside him stirred — not a noise, not a light, but a feeling. Like something had clicked into place.
The swirling fog of mana in his center began to condense, slowly pulling itself into form.
A mana core.
Tiny, fragile — but real.
Adonis exhaled long and slow. A single thought passed through his mind
But before he could celebrate, a strange reaction occurred.
From his chest, golden light burst outward. Startled, Adonis watched as dozens of tiny, illusory swords formed in the air, rotating around him like a protective ring.
He gasped as one descended toward the core.
"Wait—what—?"
The sword didn't strike.
Instead, it dissolved into golden motes, which gently merged with the forming core. The process repeated — sword after sword fading into light, fusing with the core, until a single golden mark shimmered at its center.
A floating image — a sword — etched in golden hue inside the core.
Silence returned. The air was still.
Adonis sat there, heart racing.
"…So it's not just any special magic," he whispered.
He looked down at his hands. They trembled, not from fear — but awe.
"Let's call it... Sword Magic."