The morning sun had barely crested the horizon when Ren arrived at the Academy's eastern training grounds. The air was crisp, the grass still wet with dew, and the normally bustling campus was quiet save for the occasional early riser hurrying to the library or laboratory. This early hour had become Ren's sanctuary—a time when he could practice without the weight of judgmental stares and whispered mockery.
He moved through the basic forms Master Hiro had taught him, his borrowed practice sword cutting clean arcs through the morning air. Each movement was deliberate, focused, a meditation in motion that cleared his mind of the doubts and frustrations that had accumulated during another difficult week of magical studies.
Six weeks into his first term at Grandia Academy, Ren had settled into a rhythm of sorts. His days were divided between the regular Academy curriculum—where he continued to excel in theory while struggling with practical applications—and the increasingly significant hours he devoted to Master Hiro's swordsmanship training.
The memory of his first proper lesson with the gruff blacksmith-turned-instructor remained vivid in his mind. After that initial conversation where Master Hiro had revealed his dual role at the Academy, Ren had sought him out at the training hall designated for martial arts and weapons training—a modest building tucked away at the edge of the campus, far from the grand magical laboratories and opulent lecture halls.
"So you decided to come," Master Hiro had said when Ren appeared at the door, his tone neither surprised nor particularly welcoming. "Took you long enough."
The training hall was simple compared to the rest of the Academy's facilities—a large open space with wooden floors worn smooth by years of use, racks of practice weapons along the walls, and a few basic training dummies. It was clean and well-maintained, but lacked the magical enhancements and elaborate decorations that characterized most Academy spaces.
Only a handful of other students were present, most of them looking as out of place at the Academy as Ren felt—those with non-combat Abilities or others who, for various reasons, had found themselves on the margins of the institution's rigid hierarchy.
"This is my domain," Master Hiro had explained, gesturing around the hall. "Not as fancy as the magical arenas or the elemental chambers, but it serves its purpose. Here, we focus on what the body can do, with or without magical enhancement."
He had then proceeded to outline his expectations—grueling physical conditioning, absolute discipline, unwavering commitment—in terms that would have sent most Academy students running for the comfort of their enchanted dormitories. But to Ren, who had spent years working from dawn till dusk just to earn enough for his next Awakening attempt, the prospect of hard physical labor was familiar rather than intimidating.
"I won't go easy on you because you're E-class," Master Hiro had warned. "In fact, I'll push you harder. You'll need more skill to compensate for what you lack in magical power."
"I understand," Ren had replied, meeting the instructor's gaze steadily. "That's why I'm here."
Now, weeks later, as he completed his morning practice routine, Ren reflected on how that decision had changed his Academy experience. The ridicule from Darius and his circle had intensified, of course—"Playing with swords like a child," they mocked, "since he can't manage real magic"—but their words had lost much of their sting. In the training hall, under Master Hiro's guidance, Ren had found something the rest of the Academy couldn't give him: a sense of progress, of growing competence, of genuine achievement.
"Your form is improving," came a gruff voice, startling Ren from his thoughts. Master Hiro stood at the edge of the training ground, arms crossed, observing with his characteristic intensity. "But your focus is wandering. The sword is an extension of your will. If your mind wanders, so does your blade."
"Yes, Master Hiro," Ren acknowledged, immediately correcting his stance and refocusing his attention.
The instructor approached, circling Ren with a critical eye. "Show me the third form again. Full speed this time."
Ren complied, moving through the sequence of strikes, blocks, and footwork that constituted the third basic form of Master Hiro's style. His movements were fluid, each flowing into the next with growing confidence, though still lacking the perfect precision that came only with years of practice.
"Better," Master Hiro nodded when Ren finished. "You learn quickly. Most students take twice as long to reach this level of competence."
Coming from Master Hiro, this was high praise indeed. The instructor was notoriously sparing with compliments, believing that excessive praise bred complacency. Ren felt a warm glow of pride, a sensation that had become increasingly rare in his other Academy classes.
"Thank you, Master," he replied, bowing slightly in the traditional manner the instructor had taught them.
Master Hiro grunted in acknowledgment. "You're here early again. Trouble sleeping?"
Ren hesitated, then decided on honesty. "Sometimes. And I find the practice helps clear my mind before classes."
The instructor studied him for a moment, his weathered face unreadable. "The path you've chosen isn't easy, Ren. The Academy values magical power above all else. Those who excel in other areas are often overlooked."
"I know," Ren said quietly. "But I have to find my own way forward. My own strength."
Something flickered in Master Hiro's eyes—approval, perhaps, or recognition. "Yes. You do." He turned, gesturing for Ren to follow. "Come. Since you're here early, I'll show you something new."
Curious, Ren followed the instructor to a small side room adjoining the main training hall. Unlike the austere simplicity of the hall, this room was filled with an eclectic collection of weapons, scrolls, and what appeared to be half-finished designs for new sword forms sketched on parchment. It was clearly Master Hiro's personal workspace, a place few students were invited to enter.
"Do you know why I'm allowed to teach at this Academy, despite being only a C-class Talented?" Master Hiro asked, selecting a scroll from a nearby shelf.
"I assumed it was because of your skill as a swordsman," Ren replied.
"Skill alone wouldn't be enough. Not here." Master Hiro unrolled the scroll, revealing a complex diagram of sword forms annotated with notes in a precise, angular hand. "I have two Abilities. The first is 'Forging'—it allows me to create weapons of exceptional quality, far beyond what a normal blacksmith could achieve. Useful, but not particularly impressive by Academy standards."
He set the scroll aside and selected another, this one showing anatomical diagrams alongside combat stances. "My second Ability is 'Bushido.' It allows me to analyze, create, and perfect martial arts forms. I can see the flow of movement, the efficiency of a stance, the potential of a technique in ways others cannot. I can look at a warrior in motion and understand not just what they're doing, but how it could be improved."
Ren's eyes widened slightly as the implications sank in. "So you can create entirely new martial arts?"
"Yes. And more importantly, I can tailor techniques to individual students, optimizing them based on body type, natural inclinations, and even magical Abilities." Master Hiro fixed Ren with an intense gaze. "That's why the Academy tolerates my presence. My 'Bushido' can help even powerful Talented become more effective combatants, and my 'Forging' provides weapons worthy of their abilities."
"I see," Ren said, understanding dawning. "So you're valuable to them because you can enhance the already powerful."
Master Hiro's mouth twitched in what might have been the ghost of a smile. "That's what they think. But 'Bushido' works just as well—better, sometimes—with those who have less innate power but greater determination. Those who are willing to put in the work that the naturally gifted often neglect."
He selected a third scroll, this one newer than the others, the parchment still crisp. "I've been watching you, Ren. Your movements, your instincts, your approach to training. You have natural aptitude—good balance, quick reflexes, an intuitive grasp of spatial relationships. But more importantly, you have heart. Determination. The willingness to push beyond your limits."
He unrolled the scroll, revealing a series of diagrams that Ren recognized as sword forms—but not the standard ones taught in class. These were different, more fluid in some places, more direct in others, with annotations that Ren couldn't quite decipher from his position.
"I've begun developing a style suited to your specific attributes," Master Hiro explained. "One that maximizes your natural strengths while accounting for the limitations imposed by your E-class status."
Ren stared at the scroll, then at Master Hiro, momentarily speechless. The idea that the instructor had been analyzing him so carefully, had deemed him worthy of such personalized attention, was overwhelming. In a school where he was constantly reminded of his inadequacy, here was someone who saw potential worth nurturing.
"I... I don't know what to say," he managed finally. "Thank you, Master Hiro."
"Don't thank me yet," the instructor replied gruffly. "This won't be easy. It will demand more of you than the standard training—more hours, more sweat, more pain. And even then, there's no guarantee it will be enough to compensate for your magical limitations."
"I understand," Ren said, his resolve firming. "I'm willing to do whatever it takes."
Master Hiro nodded, as if this was exactly the response he had expected. "Good. We'll begin tomorrow. For now, return to your morning practice. Focus on perfecting what you already know before we add complexity."
As Ren bowed and turned to leave, Master Hiro added, "And Ren? This stays between us. The Academy administration... wouldn't appreciate me devoting so much attention to an E-class student."
"I understand," Ren assured him. "Thank you for trusting me."
Back in the training yard, Ren resumed his practice with renewed vigor, his mind racing with the implications of what had just occurred. For the first time since arriving at Grandia Academy, he felt a genuine sense of possibility—not just of surviving his time here, but of actually thriving in his own way.
The regular Academy classes that day seemed less daunting somehow. Even Master Keldrin's cutting remarks about Ren's pathetic attempt at a mana shield couldn't penetrate the quiet confidence that had taken root within him. He had found an ally, a mentor who saw value in him beyond his magical classification. It was a small victory, perhaps, but significant nonetheless.
"You seem different today," Lyra commented as they left the practical magic class together. She had taken to walking with him occasionally, despite the raised eyebrows this earned her from her higher-ranked friends. "Less... I don't know, burdened?"
Ren smiled slightly. "Just found something worth focusing on."
"Oh?" Her curiosity was evident, but Ren remembered Master Hiro's warning about discretion.
"Nothing specific," he deflected. "Just a new perspective on things."
Lyra looked skeptical but didn't press the issue. "Well, whatever it is, it suits you. You actually smiled when Darius made that comment about your pathetic excuse for a shield. It completely threw him off."
Had he smiled? Ren hadn't even noticed. The realization that Darius's taunts had lost their power to wound him was surprisingly liberating.
The following weeks established a new pattern in Ren's life at the Academy. His mornings began before dawn with private training under Master Hiro's guidance, learning the specialized forms the instructor was developing for him. His days continued with regular classes, where he still struggled with practical applications but maintained his excellence in theory. And his evenings often ended back at the training hall, practicing what he had learned and pushing his body to its limits.
The specialized training was as demanding as Master Hiro had warned. It focused not just on swordsmanship but on a holistic approach to combat that incorporated elements of unarmed martial arts, strategic thinking, and even meditation techniques designed to enhance focus and mana efficiency.
"Your 'Absorb' Ability may be E-class," Master Hiro explained during one session, "but that doesn't mean it's useless. It provides a constant, if minimal, influx of mana. Most Talented waste far more than that through inefficient usage. If you learn perfect control—how to direct every particle of mana with precision—you can make that trickle count."
He demonstrated a technique where mana was channeled through the sword in a thin, concentrated line rather than the broader, more mana-intensive enhancements most Talented used. "This requires less raw power but more control. It won't match the destructive force of higher-class techniques, but it can be just as effective with proper application."
Ren practiced the technique relentlessly, focusing on directing the small amount of mana his 'Absorb' provided into his blade in the most efficient manner possible. Progress was slow and often frustrating—maintaining the precise mana flow required intense concentration, and his reserves depleted quickly—but each small improvement felt like a significant victory.
Alongside the specialized mana techniques, Master Hiro emphasized physical conditioning and pure martial skill. "Your body is your foundation," he insisted. "The stronger, faster, and more skilled you are without magic, the more effective you'll be when you add even a small amount of magical enhancement."
The training regimen he prescribed was brutal: hours of strength exercises, flexibility drills, endurance training, and repetitive practice of basic techniques until they became second nature. Ren's muscles ached constantly, and he often collapsed into bed at night too exhausted even to worry about his academic struggles.
But the results were undeniable. His body, already hardened by years of physical labor, became leaner, stronger, more responsive. His reflexes sharpened, his movements gained precision and fluidity, and his understanding of combat deepened beyond mere technique to encompass strategy, psychology, and the subtle interplay of position and timing.
Most significantly, he discovered that his E-class 'Absorb,' while minimal in its effects, could be leveraged in ways he hadn't previously considered. By focusing intently, he could direct the absorbed mana to specific areas of his body, providing small but targeted enhancements to strength, speed, or endurance. It wasn't much—nothing compared to the raw power higher-ranked Talented could casually wield—but it was something uniquely his, a tool he was learning to use with increasing effectiveness.
"Good," Master Hiro nodded approvingly as Ren successfully maintained a mana-enhanced strike for the full duration of a complex form. "You're beginning to understand. It's not about how much power you have, but how efficiently you use it."
These small victories in the training hall provided a counterbalance to Ren's continued struggles in his regular Academy classes. While he maintained his strong performance in theoretical subjects, the gap between him and his peers in practical applications continued to widen as the curriculum advanced. Spells and techniques that required significant mana reserves or relied on specific Ability effects remained beyond his reach, no matter how perfectly he understood the underlying principles.
The contrast was particularly stark in the combat magic class, where students were expected to demonstrate increasingly powerful offensive and defensive spells. While others conjured elaborate shields, elemental attacks, and magical constructs, Ren could barely maintain the most basic protective barrier—and even that drained his limited reserves quickly.
"Pathetic, as usual," Master Keldrin commented during one particularly difficult session, not bothering to lower his voice as Ren's shield flickered and died after barely deflecting a practice bolt. "I don't know why you bother, E-class. Some deficiencies can't be overcome with mere effort."
In the past, such remarks would have cut deep. Now, Ren simply nodded politely and returned to his position, already mentally reviewing the sword form he would practice later. He had begun to understand that there were different kinds of strength, different paths to power. If he couldn't match his peers in raw magical ability, he would surpass them in other ways.
This shift in perspective didn't go unnoticed. Darius and his circle, accustomed to Ren's visible frustration at his magical limitations, seemed unsettled by his new equanimity. Their taunts grew more pointed, more personal, as if they were determined to break through his newfound armor of quiet confidence.
"I heard you're playing soldier with the old blacksmith," Darius remarked one day, deliberately bumping into Ren as they left the dining hall. "How adorable. The E-class thinks he can make up for his magical inadequacy by waving a stick around."
Ren met his gaze calmly. "Everyone finds their own path, Darius."
"There's only one path that matters at this Academy," Darius retorted, his handsome face twisting with disdain. "Magical excellence. Everything else is just a distraction for the failures and the weak."
"If you say so," Ren replied, stepping around him and continuing on his way, leaving Darius momentarily speechless at his lack of reaction.
Later that week, the confrontation escalated when Darius and two of his followers cornered Ren in a secluded courtyard as he was returning from an evening training session.
"You know what I think, E-class?" Darius said, his tone conversational but his eyes cold. "I think you need a reminder of your place here. A demonstration of the difference between real power and whatever pathetic skills you're developing with that washed-up blacksmith."
His companions spread out, forming a loose semicircle that blocked Ren's path. One of them, a broad-shouldered boy named Valen with the C-class Ability 'Stone Skin,' cracked his knuckles meaningfully. The other, a thin, sharp-featured youth called Nex with the B-class 'Shadow Step,' smirked as tendrils of darkness curled around his fingers.
Ren assessed the situation quickly, as Master Hiro had taught him. Three opponents, all magically superior, in a secluded location with no witnesses. Direct confrontation would be unwise. But running would only postpone the inevitable and likely make future encounters worse.
"I don't want trouble," he said calmly, shifting his stance subtly to a more balanced position. "We all have classes tomorrow. Let's not do something we'll regret."
"The only one with regrets will be you," Darius replied, raising his hand as mana gathered around it, forming into a swirling vortex of force. "Consider this an educational experience. A practical demonstration of why some people don't belong at Grandia Academy."
He thrust his hand forward, sending a wave of force toward Ren—not enough to cause serious injury, but certainly sufficient to knock him down and likely cause painful bruising. It was the kind of "lesson" that happened occasionally at the Academy, usually overlooked by the administration as long as no permanent harm was done.
But Ren wasn't there when the force wave hit. Moving with the enhanced speed and precision Master Hiro's training had developed, he sidestepped the attack with a fluid motion that seemed almost casual.
Surprise flickered across Darius's face, quickly replaced by anger. "Lucky dodge," he snarled, gathering mana for a stronger attack. "Let's see you avoid this."
The second force wave was broader, more powerful, harder to evade completely. But Ren didn't try to dodge it entirely. Instead, he channeled a thin stream of mana—the technique Master Hiro had taught him—to reinforce his forearm as he raised it in a deflecting motion. The force wave hit, pushing him back several steps, but he remained standing, his arm tingling but uninjured.
Now all three of his opponents looked shocked. An E-class Talented shouldn't have been able to withstand a direct attack from an A-class like Darius, even a restrained one.
"Impossible," Valen muttered, his stone-textured skin rippling as he activated his Ability fully.
"Not impossible," Ren replied quietly. "Just unexpected."
What followed was not a fight so much as a demonstration—not of magical power, but of the effectiveness of skill, strategy, and precise application of limited resources against superior but less disciplined opponents. Ren moved like water, never directly opposing their greater strength but redirecting it, finding openings, using their expectations against them.
When Valen charged, his stone-enhanced fists seeking to crush, Ren wasn't there to be hit. When Nex attempted to flank him with shadow-enhanced speed, Ren anticipated the movement, positioning himself to make the attack overextend. And when Darius, increasingly frustrated, unleashed a barrage of force bolts, Ren deflected what he couldn't dodge, each movement economical, each application of his limited mana precisely calculated for maximum effect.
He didn't try to defeat them—that would have been beyond his capabilities, regardless of his training. But he didn't need to win; he only needed to show that he couldn't be easily beaten, that targeting him would cost them more than they were willing to pay.
The confrontation ended when Darius, breathing heavily and visibly frustrated, finally stepped back. "This is beneath me," he declared, attempting to salvage his dignity. "Come on. The E-class isn't worth our time."
As they retreated, Nex nursing what would likely be a spectacular bruise from an unexpectedly blocked kick, Darius turned back with a final glare. "This isn't over, E-class. Not by a long shot."
"Probably not," Ren acknowledged, his own breathing controlled despite the exertion. "But maybe next time, you'll think twice."
When they were gone, Ren allowed himself to lean against a nearby wall, his muscles trembling with fatigue. The encounter had pushed him to his limits, requiring every bit of skill and control he had developed. But he had held his own against three higher-ranked Talented—not through superior power, but through superior training, discipline, and the efficient use of limited resources.
It was a small victory in the grand scheme of things. Darius and his circle would remain antagonistic, the Academy's bias against lower-ranked Talented wouldn't change, and Ren's magical limitations would continue to hinder his progress in many classes. But it was a victory nonetheless, a tangible demonstration that the path he had chosen had merit, that there was strength to be found beyond raw magical power.
The next morning, when he arrived at the training hall for his usual pre-dawn practice, Master Hiro was already there, examining one of the practice swords with a critical eye.
"I heard about your encounter last night," the instructor said without preamble.
Ren tensed, uncertain whether to expect criticism or punishment. Fighting between students, even defensive fighting, was technically against Academy rules.
"Three against one," Master Hiro continued, setting the sword aside. "Against significantly higher-ranked opponents. And you walked away without a scratch." He looked up, meeting Ren's gaze directly. "Well done."
Relief and pride washed through Ren in equal measure. "I only defended myself," he said. "I didn't try to defeat them."
"Wise decision," Master Hiro nodded approvingly. "Knowing when not to fight is as important as knowing how to fight. And knowing your limitations is the beginning of true strength."
He moved to a nearby weapons rack and selected a sword—not one of the standard practice blades, but a real weapon, simple but beautifully crafted, with a plain hilt and a blade that gleamed with subtle enchantment.
"This is for you," he said, presenting it to Ren. "One of my own forgings, created specifically for someone with your attributes and fighting style."
Ren accepted the sword with reverence, feeling the perfect balance, the way it seemed to become an extension of his arm the moment he gripped the hilt. "Master Hiro, I can't possibly—"
"You can and you will," the instructor cut him off. "A proper tool for a proper student. The enchantments are minimal—nothing flashy, just enhancements to durability and edge retention, with a small resonance matrix that will help channel your mana more efficiently. It won't make you the equal of an A-class in raw power, but it will make the most of what you have."
Ren bowed deeply, overwhelmed by the gift and its significance. "Thank you, Master. I will strive to be worthy of it."
"See that you do," Master Hiro replied gruffly, though there was warmth beneath the stern exterior. "Now, let's begin today's training. That encounter last night revealed several weaknesses in your form that need addressing..."
The training continued with renewed intensity, Master Hiro pushing Ren harder than ever, refining techniques, correcting flaws, demanding perfection in every movement. But there was a difference now—a sense of purpose, of direction, of genuine progress toward a goal that, while different from the Academy's standard metrics of success, was no less valuable.
In the weeks that followed, Ren's reputation at the Academy underwent a subtle shift. The story of his encounter with Darius and his followers spread, growing in the telling until some versions had him single-handedly defeating all three without breaking a sweat. While most still viewed him primarily as "the E-class"—an anomaly, a curiosity at best—there was a new undercurrent of caution in their assessment.
More significantly, other students from Master Hiro's small class began to seek him out, asking for tips on specific techniques or inviting him to join their practice sessions. These were mostly other outsiders—those with non-combat Abilities or lower rankings who had found their own reasons to pursue martial training—but their acceptance provided Ren with a small community within the otherwise isolating environment of the Academy.
His academic struggles continued, of course. The gap between theory and practical application in his magical classes grew wider as the curriculum advanced, and there were days when the frustration of watching his peers effortlessly perform feats he could barely attempt threatened to overwhelm his newfound confidence. But those moments became less frequent, less devastating, as he found increasing satisfaction and purpose in his martial training.
One evening, long after most students had retired to their dormitories, Ren remained in the training hall, practicing a particularly challenging form Master Hiro had introduced that day. It required precise coordination of movement, breath, and mana flow—a sequence designed to maximize efficiency while minimizing expenditure, perfect for someone with limited reserves but excellent control.
The hall was silent save for the whisper of his blade through air and the rhythm of his controlled breathing. In that moment, focused entirely on the perfection of his form, Ren felt a sense of peace and purpose that had eluded him since arriving at the Academy. Here, in this simple space, with only his discipline and determination as companions, he had found something valuable—a strength that was uniquely his, neither borrowed nor dependent on the validation of others.
As he completed the form, holding the final position with perfect stillness, he became aware of a presence at the edge of the hall. Master Hiro stood watching, his expression thoughtful.
"You've come far in a short time," the instructor said as Ren lowered his sword and bowed respectfully. "Farther than most would have believed possible for an E-class."
"I have an excellent teacher," Ren replied sincerely.
Master Hiro acknowledged the compliment with a slight nod. "A teacher can only guide. The journey itself must be walked by the student." He approached, his gaze assessing but not critical. "You've found your path, Ren. It's not the one most at this Academy would recognize or value, but it is no less valid for that."
"Thank you, Master," Ren said, the simple words carrying the weight of his gratitude for all the instructor had done—not just the training and the specialized techniques, but the belief, the recognition of worth beyond magical classification.
"The road ahead remains difficult," Master Hiro cautioned. "The Academy's biases run deep, and there will be many who never see beyond your E-class designation. But remember this: true strength isn't measured by the power of your Ability, but by what you choose to do with whatever gifts you possess."
He gestured toward the sword in Ren's hand. "That blade isn't powerful by the standards of magical weapons. It won't unleash devastating elemental attacks or cut through enchanted armor. But in the right hands—hands that understand its purpose and limitations—it can be more effective than the most elaborate magical sword wielded without skill or wisdom."
The metaphor wasn't subtle, but it resonated deeply with Ren. He was like that sword—modest in raw power but potentially effective beyond his classification when properly directed and fully understood.
"Continue your practice," Master Hiro instructed, turning to leave. "Focus on the integration of breath and movement in the third sequence. Your timing is still slightly off."
"Yes, Master," Ren replied, already mentally reviewing the sequence in question.
Left alone once more in the quiet hall, Ren resumed his practice with renewed focus. The path ahead would indeed be difficult—his position at the Academy remained precarious, his future uncertain, the obstacles to his dream of becoming someone who could protect others still daunting. But he had found a source of strength within himself, a wellspring of determination and discipline that no external judgment could diminish.
As his sword traced perfect arcs through the still air of the training hall, each movement flowing seamlessly into the next, Ren felt something he had not experienced since arriving at Grandia Academy: a quiet joy, a sense of rightness, of being exactly where he needed to be, doing exactly what he was meant to do. It wasn't the path he had envisioned when he first dreamed of becoming Talented, but it was his path nonetheless—unique, challenging, and ultimately, true to who he was becoming.
In the silence of the empty hall, illuminated only by the soft glow of mana lamps and the faint moonlight filtering through high windows, Ren continued his solitary practice, his movements growing more fluid, more powerful, more precise with each repetition. The sword in his hands—Master Hiro's gift, a symbol of recognition and belief—gleamed softly as he channeled a thin stream of mana through its length, the enchantments resonating with his intent, amplifying his modest power into something more significant.
It was a small light in the darkness, a quiet defiance against the limitations others would impose upon him. But it was his light, his strength, his path forward. And for now, that was enough.