Matthew stood at a distance, arms crossed at the edge of the training ground. Sunlight brushed across his skin—warm and indifferent—while the scent of sweat and churned earth lingered thick in the air.
The lone tree stood just off-centre, its shade claimed—always—by the same two people. The benches remained empty, ignored by them. That tree had become theirs, by habit or by silent agreement. It wasn't official, but everyone seemed to understand: that was their spot.
He watched them—not just what they did, but how. The rhythm of their breathing after each set. The way their eyes never strayed. The fluid, almost careless transitions from drill to drill. They bickered often. Fought, too, in bursts of sudden heat. But they never broke rhythm.
More than anything, what held Matthew's attention: was their growth, It didn't make sense. It didn't follow the rules. Didn't ask permission. They were the youngest on the field, and yet they'd already surpassed most of those who'd been here far longer.
Matthew sighed and turned his gaze to the others—grunting, pushing, grinding. He'd seen people train harder. Seen them break themselves trying to claw forward, scraping progress out of sheer will.
But those two? They grew unreasonably fast.
They had long since surpassed any expectations he'd set.
Especially Aidan.
He remembered the boy from the beginning—loud, too curious, chasing the glow of Rankers with a kind of naive hunger. Too eager for glory. Too raw to shape. Or so he'd thought.
But there had been a moment. A sparring match meant to break him from his reckless action. It should have.
Instead, Matthew saw him bloodied, broken-lipped, and laughing. Not out of arrogance. Not even stubborn pride. But with the kind of quiet certainty that made the hair on your arms stand up.
There was resolve in that boy—not just to rise, but to stand at the top.
It had caught Matthew off guard. Still did, sometimes.
It wasn't loud. It didn't need to be. And it had stuck with Matthew in a way he hadn't liked admitting.
He didn't say much about it. Let the others believe what they would. But that moment stayed with him—sharp and unexpected, like finding a blade where you'd only expected scrap.
Zane, too, was a gem—one Matthew had found, shaped, and sharpened with his own hands. Unlike Aidan, Zane was a product of intention, not surprise.
There was something uncanny in the way he understood weapons. It wasn't just skill—it was instinct. A language he hadn't learned so much as remembered. Sometimes, Matthew wondered just how long he'd be able to stay ahead of him.
The thought didn't unsettle him. Not exactly. But it stayed with him.
Pride had a weight to it—and both of them, Aidan and Zane…
He clicked his tongue, as if to chase the thought away. He didn't want to admire those brats—not again. But every time he looked at them, something twisted in his chest. Not irritation. Not regret.
Pride.
Quiet and stubborn, the kind that crept in without permission.
He was their master. And even though he didn't want to be, he was proud of it. Proud of them—even when he wished he wasn't.
Matthew stepped outside the training ground, wanting to roam for a bit.
Aidan sat beneath the tree, still and grounded, his eyes half-lidded as his focus turned inward. Most of the work was already done—the foundation of his core taking shape. Now came the refining.
With each steady breath, he drew the swirling aura deeper into himself, guiding it toward the center of his abdomen. He compressed it—slowly, carefully—shaping it tighter, cleaner, and denser. Each inhale pulled the aura inward from every part of his body. Each exhale sharpened its form.
It was quiet work. Precise. Demanding. But Aidan didn't waver. Not even for a second.
He was on the final layer now.
Building a core had proven far more demanding than he'd first believed. In the beginning, he'd thought it might be quick—straightforward, even. But reality had been less kind, more instructive.
Core formation was slow. Exhausting. Relentless.
It had started as little more than a speck—a grain of energy, barely there. But with time, patience, and countless cycles of compression and refinement, it had grown. What was once the size of a grain had become something dense and spherical, like a weighted orb forming at the center of his stomach.
And now, after a year of silent labor, he was layering the final shell—pressing the last ring of aura into place with meticulous control.
Each breath felt heavier. Each movement of aura, more precise. But his focus never faltered. This was the end of the beginning.
After a year of relentless focus and discipline, the core at his center had taken shape—dense, stable, and strong. But this last layer was different. It wasn't about building anymore.
It wasn't some grand transformation.
Not like when his aura had first awakened—no surge of power, no flash of light. This had taken over a year, slow and methodical. And so, when the core was finally complete, there was no dramatic change.
Just a quiet sense of fulfillment.
He had become an incomplete Rank One being.
Aidan had taken one step forward—one earned, not gifted. A step toward becoming strong.
He opened his eyes.
Across from him, under the same tree, Zane stood still—but his body was glowing. A faint light shimmered across his skin, steady at first, then shifting—growing hotter. Sharper. The glow began to ripple like rising heat, edges shimmering like a blade drawn under sunlight.
Aidan's core flared in warning—a primal pulse that screamed danger. Across from him, Zane's glow was signaling him of something.
But he knew—someone would understand what was happening.
Without a moment's hesitation, the aura wrapped around Aidan's body—effortless, natural, like it belonged there.
He moved.
The ground beneath him shuddered as he shot forward, the force of his step cracking the earth deep beneath his feet.
When Aidan returned, Matthew was with him.
Matthew's eyes locked onto Zane. "Everyone, back away—now!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. Without hesitation, he enveloped Aidan in a shimmering barrier of mana, shielding him from the unfolding chaos.
Then, with a mix of bewilderment and awe, Matthew said, "Zane's undergoing his first Life Essence transformation. He's ascending… to a Rank One Being."
Aidan's eyes widened. His breath halted for a moment. His gaze remained fixed on Zane, unable—or unwilling—to look away. Before him, the very atmosphere seemed to change. The world held its breath as Zane took his first step toward becoming who he was always meant to be.