The ceiling had been identified.
Now Duke needed to determine whether it applied only to trade — or to strength as well.
He left early the next morning, walking toward the small stone building near the tavern where the village's Adventurer's Guild outpost operated. It was not impressive. No grand banners. No polished armor lining the walls. Just a wooden sign with a sword insignia carved into it and a notice board cluttered with small contracts.
The door was open.
Inside, three men sat around a table, one cleaning a blade while another flipped through a stack of parchment. The third leaned back lazily, boots resting on a crate.
They glanced at Duke briefly.
Then dismissed him.
Good.
Underestimation simplified movement.
He approached the counter where a middle-aged woman was sorting small slips of paper.
"I have a question," he said calmly.
She didn't look up immediately. "Contracts are posted outside."
"I'm not here for a contract."
That made her glance up.
"Then?"
"I want to learn the Warrior path."
One of the men at the table chuckled softly.
The woman studied him more carefully now. Thin. Young. Clearly not yet hardened by labor.
"How old are you?" she asked.
"Seven."
Another chuckle.
She ignored it.
"Most begin formal training around ten or twelve," she said. "Earlier if noble."
"I want the manual."
That paused her.
She leaned back slightly.
"The public trainee manual?"
"Yes."
Her eyes narrowed faintly, assessing intent.
"That will cost one gold."
He nodded once.
He had expected as much.
The price was deliberate. High enough to discourage casual curiosity. Low enough to remain accessible to those serious about pursuit.
She reached beneath the counter and pulled out a thin bound booklet wrapped in cloth.
"This contains the basic breathing method," she said. "Body conditioning patterns. Explanation of the trainee threshold. It does not guarantee breakthrough."
"I understand."
She held his gaze for another second.
"Most who buy it never cross the threshold."
"Why?" Duke asked evenly.
"Because aura does not respond to desire," she replied. "It responds to aptitude and discipline."
He placed one gold coin on the counter.
She slid the manual toward him.
The transaction was quiet.
No applause.
No ceremony.
He turned to leave — then paused.
"Can I observe?" he asked.
The woman gestured toward the rear courtyard.
"Stay out of the way."
Behind the building, four young men stood in a rough formation. Their breathing was measured, deliberate. One older instructor circled them slowly.
"Inhale through the nose," the instructor commanded. "Guide the sensation downward. Do not rush it."
Duke watched carefully.
As they breathed, faint distortions shimmered in the air around them — subtle, but visible if one paid attention. The density felt heavier near their chests.
One of them exhaled sharply.
A faint ripple passed across his skin.
"Again," the instructor said.
Duke studied posture. Foot placement. Shoulder tension. Timing.
The manual likely contained similar guidance, but observation revealed nuance text often omitted.
He did not linger long.
Information gathered was sufficient.
Back home, he unwrapped the manual carefully.
The first pages explained theory.
All living beings in this world were surrounded by aura — a latent energy woven into environment and body alike. Most people lived and died without consciously interacting with it.
The trainee threshold, according to the manual, was crossed when a practitioner successfully drew external aura into the body and established a stable internal circulation loop.
Below that threshold, one merely stimulated the body.
Beyond it, one began the path of a true Warrior.
He read the breathing pattern carefully.
It matched the simplified version he had been attempting — but the manual added detail.
Posture alignment.
Tongue placement.
Abdominal compression timing.
Mental focus point: three inches below the navel.
He closed his eyes.
Inhale slowly.
Guide sensation downward.
Compress gently.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then—
A faint pulse.
The violet core responded immediately.
Warmer than before.
More distinct.
He adjusted posture according to the manual.
Inhaled again.
This time the sensation moved further along his torso before dispersing.
Better.
He repeated the cycle.
Sweat formed along his hairline despite the cool evening air.
The second core — the blue one — remained distant. Quiet. Unresponsive.
He did not force it.
Force without understanding produced instability.
After ten cycles, he exhaled slowly and opened his eyes.
The manual was correct.
Structure mattered.
Without proper alignment, aura scattered before integration.
He flexed his fingers.
There was warmth in his limbs.
Slight.
But measurable.
Over the next week, he maintained disciplined practice every night.
Production during the day.
Training after dusk.
Food intake increased deliberately.
The medicine from Maren continued easing residual pain.
His body grew stronger incrementally.
Shoulders broader.
Grip firmer.
Endurance improving.
But despite the consistency, something remained absent.
No internal circulation loop formed.
No threshold break.
He felt the violet core absorb faint traces.
But it did not complete the circuit described in the manual.
He read the section again.
"A practitioner who fails to establish internal circulation after prolonged disciplined effort may lack sufficient affinity."
Affinity.
He did not like the word.
It implied limitation.
He inhaled again.
Focused deeper.
The violet pulse answered.
The blue remained still.
He exhaled slowly.
This was not lack of affinity.
This was abnormal structure.
He closed the manual carefully.
Reese River Town had a larger Guild branch.
More experienced instructors.
Better exposure.
Perhaps clearer answers.
The village had provided capital.
The Guild had provided foundation.
But growth would require pressure.
He stepped outside into the night.
The road stretched under faint starlight.
Three days to Reese River Town.
He would not remain beneath the ceiling — economically or physically.
The manual rested beneath his arm.
Gold secured beneath the floorboards.
Decision forming steadily.
The next stage would demand more.
And this time, he would meet it prepared.