Days had passed, days turned into weeks, and weeks turned quietly into months.
And before Nezeku realized it, the announcement banners were already being hung in the central plaza.
"Iron Academy entrance exams starts tomorrow"
Time moved quickly when your life revolved around training.
Every morning, before the sun even kissed the rooftops, Nezeku was awake, pushing his body beyond exhaustion, driving aura through his limbs until his vision blurred and his breath burned.
The courtyard behind his small house had long since become a battlefield of cracked earth and splintered stone.
Each crater, each mark on the ground was a record of his relentless practice.
He stood shirtless beneath the pale dawn light, sweat glistening against his skin. His muscles tensed and released with every breath.
The air around him shimmered faintly, warping from the faint hum of aura radiating off his body.
He lifted his fist, focusing.
Breathe in.
Gather.
Flow.
Silver-blue energy surged down his arm, coating his skin in a translucent sheen. The aura no longer flared wildly as it once did, it pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat, steady and refined.
He struck forward.
The impact rippled through the training yard, kicking up dust and debris. A nearby boulder cracked down the middle.
Nezeku exhaled slowly, letting the energy disperse into faint particles that drifted into the air.
Precision over power. Flow over force. Aura is not a weapon, it's the echo of will.
He'd learned that through pain, bruises, and countless sleepless nights.
Every inch of progress was carved into his bones.
He no longer needed Varric's guidance to understand movement.
Every swing, every breath was a conversation between body and aura.
He had learned to expand his external layer, to harden it when struck, and to compress it when attacking.
The once wild currents of energy now flowed in perfect order, like a river that finally understood its path.
When he fought invisible enemies in the empty yard, his movements were sharp, efficient, but carried an effortless grace.
To a passerby, it looked like a dance, but every motion held intent to kill.
After a final sequence, Nezeku stopped, breathing calmly as his aura faded.
He raised his hand, studying the faint silver-blue light that still lingered between his fingers.
"Not perfect…" he muttered, a smirk tugging at his lips. "But close enough."
Later, as dusk fell over the city, he sat on the rooftop of his small house, staring at the glowing lights of the city below.
The streets buzzed with anticipation.
Every aspiring warrior was preparing for the Academy's entrance exams — polishing weapons, reinforcing armor, sharpening their dreams.
Nezeku just sat in silence, one leg bent, the other hanging lazily off the ledge.
He wasn't nervous. Not excited either.
Just… calm.
So this is where it begins again.
His gaze softened slightly as the wind brushed against his face.
In his past life, he'd watched others rise while he remained beneath their shadows.
Mocked. Ignored. Used.
This time would be different.
"No one's using me again."
He spoke the words softly, but his voice carried weight.
A promise.
He leaned back, watching the stars come alive above the Kingdom of Iron.
The calamity… The gods… The truth.
Everything begins from here.
A faint crimson flicker flashed in his left eye, gone before the night wind could catch it.
As midnight fell, he stood one last time in his training ground. The air was still.
He took his stance, drew a slow breath, and clenched his fist.
The aura burst out silently this time, a solid silver-blue glow wrapping his arm.
The ground beneath him cracked lightly from the pressure.
He smiled faintly.
"That'll do."
He relaxed his stance, glancing toward the direction of the Iron Academy's distant lights beyond the horizon.
Tomorrow, he would leave the life of the forgotten behind.
Tomorrow, his world would start anew.
"Nazeku…" he whispered to himself.
"Its time to rewrite fate."
The candlelight from his window flickered one last time before he turned away, fading into the night.