The hallway outside the lecture hall slowly filled with noise as students poured out, voices overlapping in a messy blend of excitement and uncertainty. I lingered for a moment, letting the crowd pass around me, my thoughts drifting somewhere between what I'd just learned and the strange heaviness settling into my body.
Ashley stretched beside me, rolling her shoulders. "So," she asked, voice light but curious, "what do you think?"
I exhaled slowly. "It makes things clearer," I said after a moment. "And heavier. At the same time."
She nodded, surprisingly serious. "Yeah. Knowing there's a structure doesn't make it easier. It just tells you how far you still have to go."
We started walking, side by side, through the wide corridors of the Vanguard Spire. Groups of awakened clustered here and there, already forming loose circles, comparing notes, speculating about the Evaluation Exam, or arguing over which courses were worth their time.
Normally, I might've listened.
Today, I barely registered them.
My limbs felt leaden, every step slightly slower than the last. The warmth in my chest– the presence of my Aether Core felt dim, as if it had been wrung dry. Not painful. Just… tired.
'Has my Legacy been running in the background on its own? But... why?'
Ashley glanced at me again. "You're dragging your feet."
"I noticed," I admitted. "Think I pushed myself harder than I realized."
"You should rest," she said. "We've still got weeks before the exam. Better rest than risk an early Burnout."
"I know," I replied. "That's not a problem."
She gave me a small smile. "Still. Don't break before you even start."
We reached the junction where our paths split. I hesitated, then nodded toward the dormitory wing. "I'm going to lie down for a bit."
"Dinner later?" she asked.
"Oh, sure. At 8?," I responded, a little surprised.
She studied my face, then nodded. "Alright. Don't be late."
"I'll try my best."
We parted ways.
My room greeted me with silence when i arrived.
I closed the door behind me and leaned against it for a second, letting the stillness seep in. Only then did I notice the envelope resting neatly on my desk.
It hadn't been there before.
I pushed myself upright and crossed the room, every step cautious, as if the letter might vanish if I moved too fast. My name was written on the front in clean, precise handwriting.
A chill ran through me.
Slowly, I opened it.
[Elijah,
You are requested to attend a private session today at 18:00.
Location: East Wing — Hall of Forms.
Attendance is expected.
—Instructor]
No signature or explanation.
Just an odd expectation.
I read it twice. Then a third time.
My pulse quickened.
The Hall of Forms wasn't an ordinary lecture hall. I'd heard whispers about it during orientation, used only for specialized instruction, rarely open to newcomers.
"…Why me?" I murmured.
There was no answer, of course.
I folded the letter carefully and set it back on the desk. The exhaustion caught up to me all at once, heavy and unavoidable. I lay down fully clothed, staring at the ceiling until my thoughts blurred.
Sleep took me before I realized it.
When I woke, the room was bathed in the warm glow of late afternoon.
For a brief, disorienting moment, I forgot where I was. Then my eyes fell on the desk.
The letter.
I sat up immediately.
After washing my face and changing back into my uniform, I stood still for a moment, steadying my breathing.
'Whatever this is, it isn't a mistake. Someone noticed me.'
Whether that was good or bad remained to be seen.
At 17:55, I stood before the Hall of Forms.
The corridor here was quieter, the air heavier. I lifted my gaze to the plaque beside the door.
Special Close Quarter Combat & Spear Theory
My breath stalled.
'This isn't just any course—'
'This is the course!'
The one I'd seen listed but couldn't enroll in. The one that required personal invitation. The one taught by someone who stood among the strongest humans alive.
My fingers curled slowly at my side.
"So this is why..." I whispered.
I took a deep breath, centered myself, and pushed the door open.
The space beyond was nothing like a lecture hall.
It was similar to... a dojo.
Smooth wooden floors stretched wide and immaculate, reflecting the soft overhead light. Weapon racks lined the walls– spears of every make and length, some simple, others clearly ancient and dangerous. Banners of calligraphy hung between them, ink strokes heavy with meaning I didn't yet understand.
The air was still.
Not empty, but focused.
A man stood at the center.
Tall. Slender, yet unmistakably powerful. His posture was relaxed, but it carried the kind of balance that came from absolute control. His skin was flawless, pale as porcelain, untouched by time or battle in a way that felt unnatural.
His eyes were sharp, pupils a deep, unsettling red.
Long dark hair fell past his shoulders, messy yet deliberate, framing a face that was calm to the point of being unreadable. He wore traditional Japanese garments, dark and understated, moving with him as if they were part of his body.
He turned to face me.
For a moment, we simply looked at each other.
Then he smiled– not kindly, not cruelly. Just knowingly.
"You arrived on time." he said.
I bowed slightly without thinking, more instinct than anything else. "Yes, sir."
A soft chuckle escaped him. "Good. Discipline begins with respect for time."
He gestured inward. "Come in, Elijah."
The door slid shut behind me.
As the sound faded, I felt it, clear and undeniable.
Whatever I had just stepped into would change me.
And I wasn't sure I was ready for it.
The man studied me in silence.
It wasn't the kind of silence meant to intimidate– there was no pressure, no overt hostility, but it weighed on me anyway. His gaze felt like it was peeling layers away, seeing past my posture, my breathing, even the faint hum of Aether in my chest.
Finally, he spoke.
"You are likely wondering why you're here."
I nodded. "Yes, sir."
He turned away from me and walked toward one of the weapon racks, his steps soundless against the polished wood. He trailed his fingers along a spear shaft as if absentmindedly counting them.
"I noticed you yesterday," he said casually. "No, before yesterday, actually. In the Mana Zone near a small city... Workfel, was it?"
My spine stiffened.
'How the hell does he know about that..?'
"You survived an encounter you should not have," he continued. "Not through strength. Not through skill. But through… change."
He stopped and looked back at me, red pupils narrowing slightly.
"That interested me."
I swallowed. "I didn't know anyone was watching."
He smiled faintly. "You wouldn't."
The words settled uncomfortably in my chest.
"The Vanguard monitors all Mana Zones bordering civilian regions. And you just happend to spill your experience at the Vanguard Administration Office." he went on.
"Most awakened display themselves loudly. Power flares. Crude expressions of their Legacies." He tilted his head. "You didn't."
I hesitated. "I was mostly trying not to die."
Another quiet chuckle. "An underrated strategy."
He returned to the center of the dojo, folding his hands behind his back. "When your evaluation results reached my desk, I was… underwhelmed."
That stung more than I expected.
"Adaptation," he said. "A Resonant Legacy. Weak in nature. Reactive. Dependent on circumstance." His eyes bored into mine. "Most instructors would discard you immediately."
I clenched my fists, but said nothing.
"However," he continued, voice sharpening just a fraction, "weakness does not mean insignificance. Some Legacies are blunt weapons. Others are knives." He paused. "And some are diseases."
My breath caught.
"Adaptation," he said softly, "is dangerous. Not because of what it is, but because of what it can become."
"You change under pressure," he said. "Your body responds to trauma. To stress. To threat. Left unchecked, such a Legacy can spiral. Or worse, perfect itself."
'Perfect itself..? But wouldn't that be a good thing?'
"So," he went on, gaze dropping to my frame, "I expected more."
'Ouch.' That one hit harder.
He circled me slowly, eyes clinical now. "Your physique is… below average. Poor endurance. Suboptimal muscle density. Bone reinforcement is insufficient." He stopped in front of me. "Your body is not worthy of your Legacy."
'Is he saying my body is even worse than my Legacy?!'
Heat crept up my neck. "With respect, sir, I–"
He raised a hand.
"If your Adaptation is to evolve, it requires a foundation capable of surviving the process," he said calmly. "Otherwise, it will destroy you."
He stepped back and gestured to the open floor.
"We will not begin with weapons."
My heart sank.
"We will not begin with technique."
It sank even further.
"We will begin with your body."
I exhaled slowly. "…What does that mean?"
His smile returned.
It was not kind.
"Pain." he said simply.
Before I could respond, he clapped once.
The runes etched along the dojo walls flared to life.
The air changed.
Gravity pressed down on me like a sudden weight, forcing my knees to bend. My muscles screamed in protest as my body instinctively tried to compensate.
I gasped.
"Drop." he ordered.
I barely managed to catch myself before collapsing into a push-up position, arms trembling violently.
"Again."
I pushed.
My arms buckled halfway.
"Again."
I pushed.
My vision blurred.
"Your Adaptation accelerates recovery," he said calmly, pacing beside me as if I weren't fighting for my life on the floor. "So I will break you faster than you can heal."
Sweat poured down my face. My chest burned. My bones felt like they were vibrating under strain.
"Stand."
I tried.
I failed.
He crouched in front of me, eyes level with mine. "This will not stop when you fail," he said quietly. "It will stop when your body learns."
I clenched my teeth and forced myself up.
Immediately, he struck.
Not hard, but Precise.
A sharp blow to my side sent me skidding across the floor, pain blooming hot and deep. I rolled instinctively, barely stopping myself from crashing into the weapon rack.
"Again." he said.
I got up.
He struck again.
And again.
Each impact wasn't meant to incapacitate– it was meant to teach. My body reacted faster each time. My balance adjusted. My breathing shifted.
Pain became constant as Minutes blurred into hours.
My muscles tore, healed and tore again. My lungs burned, recovered, burned harder. Every time I thought I'd reached my limit, he pushed past it.
"Faster." he commanded.
I moved.
"Stronger."
I endured.
"Adapt." he said softly.
Something inside me answered.
By the time he finally called a halt, I collapsed to my knees, shaking violently, sweat soaking through my clothes. My body screamed in protest, but beneath the pain was something else.
Stability. Strength.
He stood over me, looking down with unreadable eyes.
"This is only the beginning," he said. "If you withstand my training, Elijah–"
He turned away.
"–you will no longer be weak."
I lay there, gasping for air, every nerve on fire.
And despite everything...
I smiled.