Shane first considered one possibility.
Perhaps the warm flow repaired his originally weak body, thereby improving his basic functions.
But he quickly dismissed this guess because as early as yesterday, his body had mostly recovered, yet no such change had occurred then.
He pondered, his knuckles unconsciously pressing against his jaw. Just then, an idea flashed through his mind, causing his heart rate to spike.
Perhaps the true purpose of the warm flow from the Heroic Spirit Card wasn't just repairing damage or restoring stamina.
Maybe it was fundamentally reconstructing this mortal body, inching it closer, bit by bit, to a true Heroic Spirit's physique. The so-called "recovery" was merely a side effect of this process.
As for the method to achieve all this...
Shane's gaze fell on his own arms, which were trembling slightly from the labor.
"Could it be like forging iron?" His mind lit up. "By repeatedly exhausting and straining the body, forcing it to break its limits, and then using the warm flow to repair and nourish it to transform?"
Yes, that was the only difference between today and yesterday. He had completely exhausted his stamina, and then, the Archer Card responded to him.
"Isn't this just grinding levels?!" Shane stood up abruptly, seemingly forgetting the soreness in his muscles.
He swallowed the black bread he was sick of in two or three bites, then dropped to the ground and, under everyone's gaze, started doing push-ups on his own.
If he could break through the ranks of those few attributes before the plan started, his success rate would skyrocket.
Not far away, Erza saw this scene. She nudged Millianna with her elbow and pointed at her head with some concern. "Does he have a problem here...?"
"Millianna doesn't know, meow."
As a "reward" for Shane's hard work, when work started in the afternoon, a tall, thin overseer thoughtfully assigned him a pile of stones twice the size of the morning's quota.
Before leaving, the overseer deliberately spat fiercely at Shane's feet, kicking up a small puff of dust. It made the corner of Shane's mouth twitch.
He silently memorized that man's physique, took a deep breath, bent down, and started moving stones.
His arms immediately protested with sharp aches, but he didn't stop. Instead, he sped up. However, unlike before, this time he paid extra attention to every slight change in his body.
He felt that whenever his stamina was about to run out, a more distinct warm flow than usual would well up in his mind, seeping into his sore muscles like fine silk, bringing gentle relief.
These were details he usually didn't notice. Shane's eyes lit up, and he worked even harder.
His diligence even made the overseer watching nearby relax his brow. "Go, assign another pile over there."
What they lacked here were obedient and hardworking beasts of burden like this.
Shane refused nothing. Without a word, he accepted however much work they threw at him.
By dinner time, a small portion of the extra stones remained unmoved. The overseer, in a rare act of leniency, didn't make things difficult. He waved his hand, telling Shane to put it on his tab and finish it tomorrow.
Dinner was still a piece of black bread and soup with unidentifiable contents. Shane finished it in a few bites and lay flat on his back on the ground.
To be honest, he could endure the physical exhaustion, but as a soul from a nation of food lovers, he found it hard to endure this unchanging pig slop.
"No, pigs ate better than I do now before I traveled here!"
"It's urgent! It's really urgent now!" Shane gritted his teeth, closed his eyes, and went to sleep.
Next to him, Jellal wanted to advise him not to push himself too hard, but seeing Shane soaked in sweat and too tired to speak, he sighed and didn't disturb him.
Of course, Shane didn't go straight to sleep. First, he opened the Book of Heroic Spirits to confirm the afternoon's results.
Sure enough, there was finally a change behind the last stagnant attribute, "Agility."
Agility: E- (coordination and reaction speed are at the lowest level; you can sense danger, but your body cannot react in time)
This further confirmed his speculation was correct.
However, the other attributes remained basically unchanged. Shane felt he was still a short distance away from breaking through the rank.
But sweating buckets all afternoon did make his limbs feel less floaty, and his chest felt stronger.
"If this keeps up, maybe one day I can also enjoy the beauty of stat-checking someone."
Moments later, Shane's emotions settled, becoming focused and solemn. He planned to try falling asleep naturally first. If the dream still didn't descend... then he would speak the True Name.
"..."
Shane's consciousness sank deeper and deeper, as if falling into a boundless, snowy white abyss.
When his perception cleared again, he found himself inhabiting the body of a tall man, sharing his every breath and heartbeat.
They were climbing a sheer, almost vertical cliff. The biting cold wind cut like knives, and the thin air made his lungs burn with pain. With every step upward, his muscles screamed.
Yet the climbing man didn't hesitate in his movements, even though his hands and feet were long frostbitten purple-black. Sharing this perception, Shane could feel the flame burning fiercely within the man's heart beneath the silence.
Finally, after a long struggle, they reached the peak.
The view suddenly opened up. Magnificent mountains and rivers stretched out beneath their feet. In the distance, military camps were packed densely like ant colonies, spreading all the way to the horizon.
The man didn't pant, nor did he pause for even a moment. He stood firm, took his bow, nocked an arrow, his movements flowing like water, as if he had repeated this action thousands of times.
The bowstring vibrated. The moment the arrow left his hand, Shane felt his consciousness being yanked out, attaching itself to the arrow.
The arrow carved a brilliant, seven-colored trajectory, like a rainbow, slicing through the gray sky.
Time seemed to stretch infinitely in this moment. Shane's consciousness flew with the arrow, sweeping past countless upturned faces:
Soldiers covered in dust with hope igniting in their eyes; war-weary elders with trembling hands; innocent children with eyes wide in curiosity—
Every face reflected this holy rainbow light, devout and bright, as if witnessing a miracle.
He continued to fly east with the arrow, the land beneath him retreating rapidly.
Vast plains, winding rivers, continuous mountain ranges—all turned into blurred blocks of color under the arrow. A distance of 2,500 kilometers was covered in an instant, until a turbulent, muddy river appeared at the end of his vision.
This arrow, having traversed a long journey, finally fell gently.
Behind it, unseen, the earth began to slowly split. A deep fissure spread along the arrow's trajectory, clearly separating two hostile nations.
And then, peace descended.
Shane's consciousness was pulled back into that scarred body.
The man looked up at the gentle morning glow on the horizon, whispering to himself in a tone so calm it was almost tender: "I am Arash..."
"Arash Kamangir."
"I know," Shane responded solemnly in his consciousness, though he didn't know if the other could hear him.
Just as he had guessed, this Heroic Spirit named Archer was none other than the great hero who defined the borders with a bow and arrow, ending the sixty-year war between Persia and Turan—Arash.
And the snow peak beneath their feet was the highest peak in Iran, known as the "Roof of the Middle East"—Mount Damavand!
However, Shane couldn't feel happy at all. There was no joy in solving the riddle.
Because he knew what would happen next.
Arash gazed quietly at the rising sun, a satisfied smile seeming to linger on his lips.
Then, fine cracks began to appear on his body. Like weathered rock, he slowly disintegrated, breaking apart into pieces, turning into a blizzard of ice crystals and light, dissipating into the fierce wind atop Mount Damavand.
A mortal body could not withstand god-realm archery.
---
---
When Shane woke from the dream with a start, he found himself gasping for air, his forehead covered in cold sweat.
The rushing images from the dream, the fragments of legend and history, the emotions carried through time—they were still burning in his mind.
He reached up to touch his chest, where the vibration of the arrow leaving the string still lingered.
"Truly... what a dream, both fleeting and long..." he murmured, his voice still trembling.
Personally becoming the arrow, sweeping past countless expectant faces, reaching the Oxus River, and finally, the dust settling.
The impact of experiencing it firsthand was stronger than all his past experiences combined. That mix of awe and sorrow was stuck in his chest, indescribable.