Ash leaned back slightly, his posture relaxed, almost indifferent. His piercing blue eyes met Melissia's fiery gaze as he listed his demands in a tone too calm, too measured.
"Alright. I need a Soul Stone, Eternium, a Shadow Cloak… and 500 gold coins."
Silence.
Melissa blinked.
Then blinked again.
What?
Her fingers curled into fists beneath the table, nails biting into her palms. Soul Stone? Fine. Shadow Cloak? Annoying, but doable. But Eternium? And 500 gold coins?
Was he out of his goddamn mind?
Her breath hitched as an overwhelming urge to punch him in the face crashed over her.
Her grip tightened on the table, knuckles turning white. She could practically hear her blood pressure rising.
"Alright," she bit out, each syllable clipped and measured. "I'll get them to you within a day."
But It was stiff and forced.
She was this close to strangling him.
And yet—Ash barely reacted. No surprise, no amusement, not even the smallest hint of gratitude. Just a simple nod. As if she had merely agreed to lend him a pen.
Melissia's eye twitched.
No reaction? Seriously?
She exhaled sharply through her nose, shoving her chair back with an irritated scrape. Then, without another word, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the café, her movements sharp and purposeful.
Her thoughts seethed.
That smug, calculating bastard.
Why did I even put those items on the list? Oh right—because I thought he had a damn sense of reason.
Soul Stone was fine. Shadow Cloak whatever that is, But Eternium? Do I look like I pluck rare metals from thin air?
And 500 gold? 500?!
Melissa's fingers twitched as she strode through the bustling streets of Nexus City, her temper barely held in check.
Teddy. I need a teddy.
A soft, squishy, perfectly huggable teddy bear. Preferably one she could squeeze the life out of.
That was the only thing standing between her and exploding right now.
Screw Ash.
She was definitely hugging a plushie the moment she got back. Maybe even two.
And if she had to rip one apart in the process?
So be it.
***
Ash didn't linger after Melissia stormed out.
He finished his drink, adjusted his wristwatch, and left, his mind already shifting to his next objective—the library.
Two hours passed in near silence, broken only by the rustle of pages as he flipped through book after book. He absorbed everything he could—herbs, dungeons, beasts, the history of the world.
Knowledge was power.
And he needed all of it.
By the time he left, it was late, and his stomach was demanding attention.
He made his way to the dining hall, grabbed a simple meal of grilled meat, bread, and water, and ate in silence, his mind elsewhere—replaying his spar with Instructor Leonard in vivid detail.
Every movement, every exchange, every mistake was burned into his memory. His mind dissected the fight like a three-dimensional simulation, analyzing it from every angle.
Every flaw. Every delayed reaction. Every missed opportunity.
It gnawed at him.
It wasn't enough.
His stats were too low. His magic lacked combat efficiency.
That meant one thing—he had to push beyond his limits. Physical growth. Magic circle formation.
I should not delay them anymore.
By the time he reached his dorm, exhaustion clung to him like a second skin, but sleep was just a temporary pause.
He closed his eyes.
A few hours of rest.
Then, it would begin again.
**
[Mid-Night]
The shrill beeping of his alarm shattered the silence, pulling Ash out of the haze of exhaustion.
His body felt like lead, muscles stiff and aching from yesterday's training, but he didn't hesitate. He threw off the sheets, sat up, and dragged himself to the sink.
Cold water splashed over his face, jolting his senses awake.
No time to waste.
Tonight's goal was Novice Rank Magic Circle formation.
Elva had shown it to him once. Just once. Yet every intricate line, every delicate symbol, every precise mana channel was etched into his memory as if burned into his very soul.
Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and reached inward.
Mana stirred, slow and sluggish at first, like a lake disturbed after years of stillness.
He guided it toward his heart, where the circle needed to take form. The energy responded, faintly glowing as it moved into position.
He could almost see it—patterns taking shape, a delicate ring forming—
Then, everything fell apart.
The mana spiraled out of control, snapping free from his command.
A violent backlash surged through his chest, searing through his veins like fire, tearing at his insides.
Then—
Protective Override Activated.
His trait kicked in, snuffing out the raging mana before it could destroy him.
Ash gasped, sweat dripping from his forehead. His heart pounded. His hands trembled slightly, but he clenched them into fists.
That's how it's going to be, huh?
Failure didn't discourage him. If anything, it sharpened his resolve.
So, he tried again.
And again.
And again.
Each time, the mana resisted.
Each time, he failed.
His breathing turned shallow, his focus wavered, his fingers dug into his palms. It would be easy to give up, to tell himself this was impossible.
But giving up wasn't an option.
It's not working. My focus isn't strong enough.
His lips pressed into a thin line.
I didn't want to use this.
With no other choice, he activated his skill—[Omni Thought].
Then the world turned gray.
Everything lost its color, it's meaning. Even his own existence became mechanical, stripped of emotion, reduced to nothing more than calculations and logic.
His mind expanded and his perception sharpened.
He moved his mana.
This time, it followed his command with inhuman precision, bending to his will like an extension of his own body.
Lines formed. Symbols connected. The intricate weave of energy stabilized—
And then, success.
A glowing ring of energy took shape within his heart, pulsating with life. Pure white light radiated from it, the magic circle flawless in its construction.
Ash exhaled, a slow smirk forming on his lips.
Finally, I did it.
His first magic circle.
But then—he Lost consciousness.
The backlash of [Omni Thought] struck, and before he could react, he collapsed.
**
When he woke up after thirty minutes had passed.
Ash woke up with a pounding headache.
His limbs felt like dead weight.
He sat up slowly, rubbing his temples, thoughts sluggish.
Damn. I really don't have talent, huh?
If he did, he would've succeeded on the first try.
But even if it took a hundred tries, it wouldn't matter.
Because in the end—he succeeded.
And that was all that mattered.
He reached for his mana, calling upon the first spell he had ever tried to wield.
Sparks crackled at his fingertips, electricity dancing over his skin.
But unlike before, it wasn't unstable.
Mana flowed smoothly, refined by the magic circle within his heart. The ball of lightning hovering above his palm was small but perfectly condensed, its energy controlled instead of chaotic.
It was much faster, sharper and deadlier.
With a flick of his wrist, he let it dissipate.
This was just the beginning.
Now, he could finally learn spells from the library.
The thought sent a spark of excitement through him, but he pushed it aside. He still had work to do.
With a quiet exhale, he forced himself up. Every muscle in his body ached, a deep, throbbing soreness that protested even the slightest movement. His limbs felt like lead, heavy and unresponsive.
He ignored it.
Pain was nothing new. It was just another step forward.
Pushing past the stiffness, he walked to his wardrobe, he pulled out his skin-tight training suit and slipped it on, the fabric clinging tightly to his frame.
Then, he layered his usual clothes over it, concealing the suit beneath.
Taking a slow breath, he activated it with a pulse of mana.
Instantly, his body grew heavier.
The mana-integrated nodes activated, increasing the weight pressing down on him.
First 20 kilograms. Then 40. His muscles strained against the pressure, adjusting to the resistance.
Perfect.
This was how he would grow stronger, by constantly applying pressure on his body.
The academy's 24-hour gym was only a few minutes away. He stepped into the empty streets, the night air cool against his face, then entered the gym, where the lights flickered on at his presence.
Rows of advanced training equipment lined the space, silent and waiting. At this hour, the gym was his alone.
He moved to the enhanced treadmill, manually adjusting the settings—high-speed running, rocky terrain simulation.
Then, he ran.
At first, his pace was steady, controlled. His feet hit the belt in rhythm, breath measured. Then the machine adjusted, shifting to simulate uneven ground, and his footing faltered.
With increased weight on himself.
Each step felt heavier, like wading through thick sand. His muscles burned and joints ached.
But he didn't stop.
Instead he increased the speed.
Sweat trickled down his forehead, soaking into his suit.
Too slow.
Too weak.
His lungs burned. His legs screamed for relief.
But relief wasn't an option.
Faster.
Faster.
His body threatened to break, but he forced it forward. This pain—it meant progress.
When the treadmill finally shut down, he barely paused before moving on.
Weighted squats—forcing his legs to adapt under relentless pressure.
Bench presses—each lift pushing him past his limits.
Pull-ups—his arms trembling, muscles screaming with every repetition.
Core training—mana resistance machines, forcing his abs to withstand fluctuating gravity.
Agility drills—dodging automated strike dummies, sharpening his reflexes to their peak.
He burned through five or six credits to use the academy's facilities.
By the time he finished, his body was on the verge of collapse.
His body trembled.
His legs were numb.
His arms burned as if fire coursed through his veins.
He glanced at the time—4:30 AM.
Dragging himself back to his room, he barely made it to the bed before exhaustion took him.
**
Two hours later, his alarm rang.
6:30 AM.
Pain greeted him first. Every muscle in his body ached, protesting even the smallest movement.
But he pushed himself up.
Because this was just another day.
Another day of struggle.
And so, time moved forward.
By the next evening, Melissia's promised items finally arrived.
***