Asher's POV
I woke up before the sun.
Not because of excitement. Not because of nerves.
My body simply decided it was time.
For a moment, I stayed still, staring at the ceiling, listening to my breathing. It felt… different. Deeper. Each inhale filled my chest more fully, each exhale left a faint warmth behind, as if my body had finally figured out how to breathe properly.
"So this is Rank 1," I muttered.
I swung my legs off the bed and stood.
No dizziness. No stiffness.
Just a strange sense of weight.
Not the heavy kind that dragged me down, but the kind that made every movement feel grounded, deliberate. Like my body had settled into itself and decided this was where it belonged.
I stretched slowly. Muscles responded instantly, no lag, no complaints. When I clenched my fist, the sensation was sharper than before—clearer. I could feel every finger, every joint, working together without friction.
I walked to the sink and splashed water on my face.
The wooden basin creaked when I leaned on it.
I leaned a little less after that.
"Noted," I said to no one.
When I reached for a cup, my fingers tightened a bit too much. A faint crack spread along the side of the wood before I loosened my grip.
I stared at it for a second, then sighed. "Okay. Definitely noted."
Breakfast was… interesting.
I had to consciously remind myself not to rush. Every movement carried more force than I expected. Pouring water. Tearing bread. Even sitting down felt different, like my center of balance had shifted lower.
My mother noticed first.
She didn't say anything right away, just watched me over the rim of her cup, eyes narrowing slightly.
"You're standing straighter," she said eventually.
I blinked. "Am I?"
She nodded. "And you're quieter when you move."
That made me pause.
I hadn't realized it, but she was right. My footsteps barely made a sound now. Not because I was trying to be light, but because my weight distributed itself naturally, without the little stumbles and adjustments I used to make unconsciously.
My father glanced up from his seat. His eyes lingered on my hands for a moment.
"Grip feels stronger," he said calmly.
I flexed my fingers. "A bit."
He hummed in acknowledgment, neither proud nor alarmed. Just… attentive.
That suited me fine.
After breakfast, I stepped outside.
Greenwood looked the same at first glance. Same streets. Same buildings. Same people heading to work or training grounds. But when I paid attention, I could feel it—the thin veil of mana clinging to everything, brushing past my skin like a persistent breeze.
It didn't push against me anymore.
It flowed.
I took a few steps, then stopped and jumped lightly.
I landed farther than I expected.
Not by much. Just enough to notice.
I walked to the edge of the street and hopped across a narrow drainage gap I used to step over carefully. This time, my feet landed cleanly on the other side, no wobble, no adjustment.
My breathing stayed even.
My heart rate barely changed.
"That's… convenient," I said.
I didn't test myself aggressively. No reason to break a leg on the first day. Instead, I walked. Let my body adjust naturally.
The city felt heavier under my feet, like the ground itself had more presence. Or maybe I was just finally strong enough to feel it.
When I reached the terrace later that morning, I picked up my wooden sword and began slow forms.
No power. No speed.
Just motion.
The difference was immediate.
The blade followed my intent without hesitation. There was no tremor at the end of each swing, no subtle resistance when transitioning between movements. My arms didn't tire as quickly, and when they did, the fatigue was clean—predictable.
I practiced longer than usual.
When I finally stopped, my breathing had barely changed.
"Yeah," I said quietly. "This works."
Footsteps approached behind me.
I didn't need to turn to know who it was.
"You look annoyingly relaxed."
I glanced over my shoulder. Darek stood there with his spear slung over one shoulder, eyes narrowed like he was examining a puzzle that refused to make sense.
"Morning to you too," I replied.
He walked a slow circle around me, openly inspecting my stance. "Your center's different."
"I upgraded," I said.
"That's not funny."
"I thought it was."
He snorted, then planted his spear in the ground. "You moved yet?"
"A little."
"Fight me."
"That escalated quickly."
"Five exchanges," he said. "No skills. No full power."
I considered it, then nodded. "Fine."
We took positions.
He lunged first.
I stepped aside and redirected the spear with a simple parry. The impact traveled through my arm cleanly, no jarring shock. When I countered, my feet moved without conscious thought, placing me exactly where I needed to be.
Second exchange.
Third,
By the fifth, Darek was breathing harder, eyes sharp with frustration.
"Okay," he said, stepping back. "That's unfair."
I tilted my head. "You said no full power."
"I meant from you."
I laughed.
He shook his head, but there was a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Rank 1 suits you."
"Give it time," I said. "You'll catch up."
"Oh, I know," he replied. "I just don't like that you got there first."
We sat for a while after that, watching the city below.
Something felt… off.
Not wrong. Just unsettled.
Guards passed more frequently than usual. Merchants were closing their stalls earlier, voices low as they spoke among themselves. The air carried a faint tension that hadn't been there yesterday.
"You hear anything?" I asked.
Darek frowned. "Some people were talking about mana spikes near the outskirts."
I hummed. "That's new."
"Yeah. And the patrols doubled overnight."
We both fell silent.
In the distance, far beyond the city walls, something roared.
It was faint. Almost lost in the wind.
But it wasn't imagination.
I stood slowly, eyes drawn toward the horizon.
"Well," I said, gripping the sword a little tighter, "guess Rank 1 didn't come with a grace period."
Darek grinned, excitement flashing through his eyes. "Good. I hate waiting."
Somewhere beyond Greenwood, something stirred.
And this time, I was ready to meet it.
End of Chapter 11 - "The Morning After the Ding"