The sun peeked over the horizon, flooding the small city with golden light. Hunters bustled around the Tower's plaza, voices low, faces grim. News of the third trial's death toll had spread overnight, and though the survivors walked with pride, their eyes carried shadows.
But Anos?
He was busy frying pancakes.
"Master," Molar yawned, rubbing her eyes. "Why are we cooking when the world's about to end again?"
"Because, Molar," Anos said, flipping a pancake high into the air with a flourish, "a true warrior fights better on a full stomach. Also, because you ate half my food supply last night, and now I'm running on pancake fumes."
Molar giggled, already holding a plate out like a soldier waiting for rations. "I'll get stronger today, Master. So I'll need three pancakes!"
Anos rolled his eyes but stacked them on her plate anyway. "Fine. But if you pass out during training, don't blame me."
---
Training Grounds: Pebble King
After breakfast, Anos led Molar to an abandoned park on the edge of the city. Rusty swings creaked in the breeze, and cracked stone benches sat forgotten under trees. It was the perfect place for training without curious hunters watching.
"Alright," Anos said, standing tall. "Today, I'll master this Ruin of Command. If I can control rocks, then tomorrow, I'll control armies."
The system chimed in:
[Reminder: Authority of Telekinesis requires concentration, stamina, and mental stability. Overuse may result in headaches, nosebleeds, or spontaneous naps.]
"…Spontaneous naps?" Anos muttered. "System, that sounds like you're describing a cat, not me."
[Affirmative.]
"…Never mind."
He stretched his hand toward the ground. Pebbles trembled, then rose slowly into the air. At first, they wobbled, spinning awkwardly like drunk flies. Sweat formed on his forehead.
"Ugh—why are these things harder to control than goblins?!"
Molar clapped from the side. "Master, they look like dancing jellybeans!"
"Don't distract me!" Anos snapped.
One pebble shot off and smacked him in the forehead.
BONK.
"…Ow." He rubbed his head. "This is humiliating."
The system chimed again:
[Encouragement: Host has successfully lifted 0.02 kilograms. Progress: 1%.]
"Don't put it like that! You're making it sound like I'm training to be the King of Pebbles!"
Molar tilted her head. "But you are, Master."
Anos froze, then sighed. "…Damn it, you're right."
---
Progress, Pain, and Pancakes
Hours passed. Sweat drenched his shirt. The pebbles became stones, the stones became chunks of broken pavement. Each time he pushed too far, a sharp pain stabbed his skull, and he collapsed onto the grass.
Molar rushed over every time, handing him water and cheering. "You're amazing, Master! You can already juggle bigger rocks than yesterday!"
"Yesterday I didn't even try," Anos wheezed. "Your standards are too low, kid."
By noon, his telekinesis had advanced enough to lift half a broken lamppost. He raised it triumphantly, veins popping on his forehead.
"Yes! Look at this! I wield the power of the lamppost gods!"
The lamppost immediately slipped from his control and crashed to the ground.
CLANG!
Molar burst into laughter. "Master, it looked like you threw a tantrum!"
The system chimed in again:
[Encouragement: Host has successfully lifted 32 kilograms. Progress: 15%. Host should pace himself. Power grows with practice, not theatrics.]
Anos lay on the ground, groaning. "Why does it sound like you're my PE teacher?"
[Because you are weak.]
"…I'll uninstall you one day."
[Impossible.]
"Figures."
---
Evening Reflection
By the time the sun dipped toward the horizon, Anos had improved. He could hold three stones in the air at once, make them orbit like moons, and even fling them at targets with reasonable accuracy.
"See that tree?" he said, pointing dramatically. "That tree is about to know true despair!"
He flung a stone.
It missed completely.
"…"
Molar coughed into her hand. "It looked… powerful, Master."
The system chimed:
[Correction: Host has the aim of a blindfolded chicken.]
"…System. You and I are going to fight one day."
[You would lose.]
"…Shut up."
Still, when he looked at the hovering stones circling above him, Anos couldn't help but smirk. "Not bad. Slow, steady progress. By the time we're back in the tower, I'll be ready."
Molar nodded, hugging her knees. "Master, even if you're weak now… I believe you'll be the strongest."
Anos ruffled her hair gently. "Careful, Molar. Flattery will get you more pancakes."
Her eyes sparkled. "Really?!"
---
Night Before the Storm
As night fell, the hunters gathered near the Tower again. Torches lit the streets, and food stalls had popped up to feed survivors. The city, despite everything, was adapting.
Anos and Molar sat on a bench, sharing skewered meat. The stick sword leaned against the bench like an extra companion.
Around them, hunters whispered. Some glanced at Anos nervously, others in awe. Word of him defeating the goblin chief without skills had spread.
Anos caught their stares and smirked. "System, are they admiring me or plotting my murder?"
[Statistical Probability: 40% admiration, 60% murder.]
"…Cool. I'll sleep with one eye open then."
The Tower loomed in the distance, glowing faintly under the night sky. Its presence was suffocating, a constant reminder that tomorrow would not be peaceful.
Molar leaned against his arm, yawning. "Master, are you scared?"
Anos looked at the Tower, then down at her. He chuckled softly. "Scared? Of course. Only idiots walk into hell without fear. But…" He tapped his stick sword. "Idiots also happen to win sometimes."
The system chimed:
[Correction: Host is both.]
"…Fair."