The first lesson every Gravitas child learned was simple.
Weight did not care how you felt.
My father apparently considered this wisdom profound enough to demonstrate with a three-meter block of black iron.
"Again."
I stared at him.
Then at the block chained around my waist.
Then back at him.
"Father."
Lord Aaron Gravitas stood beneath the shade of the training courtyard, arms folded behind his back. Morning light caught the silver beginning to creep through his dark-violet hair.
He looked rested.
Comfortable, even.
I hated him a little for that.
"My legs aren't working."
"They're shaking."
"Yes."
"Which means they're working."
I took a long breath.
"One day, when you're old and helpless, I'm going to remember conversations like this."
"Good."
His expression did not change.
"It means the lesson stayed with you."
I closed my eyes.
Of course that was his answer.
Behind me, the iron block sat half-buried in the dirt.
Calling it heavy would have been generous.
Black iron was already denser than ordinary metal, but Father had gone a step further and carved gravity inscriptions across every face of the thing. Thin violet lines pulsed along its surface, increasing the effective weight whenever I managed to build momentum.
Because apparently normal child abuse wasn't sophisticated enough for House Gravitas.
I wrapped both hands around the chain.
My palms were raw.
Sweat ran down my neck.
Every muscle from my shoulders to my calves burned.
I had been dragging the thing across the courtyard since sunrise.
At some point, the sun had climbed over the eastern wall.
At some point after that, I had stopped feeling my toes.
And yet—
"Again," Father repeated.
I leaned forward.
The chain snapped taut.
Nothing happened.
I pulled harder.
My boots dug trenches through the dirt.
Still nothing.
My arms trembled.
The block remained exactly where it was.
"Come on."
My teeth clenched.
One step.
I didn't need to cross the courtyard.
I didn't need ten meters.
I didn't even need one.
An inch would do.
I lowered my center of gravity and pulled.
The block scraped forward.
Barely.
But it moved.
I grinned.
"There."
Father looked down at the trail.
"Again."
My grin disappeared.
"You truly are incapable of joy."
"Again."
I considered several responses.
Most would have resulted in additional training.
So I turned around instead.
My lungs burned as I braced myself.
The first pull had been strength.
The second would have to be technique.
I shifted my right foot farther back.
Lowered my hips.
Changed the angle of the chain.
Pulled.
The iron moved another inch.
Less strain on my arms.
More through my legs.
Better.
Father noticed.
He always noticed.
"You changed your stance."
"Brilliant observation."
"Why?"
I paused.
Because it worked wasn't an answer he would accept.
He had beaten that out of me years ago.
Not literally.
Mostly.
"The old angle was wasting force pulling upward."
"And?"
"The block doesn't need to go upward."
"And?"
I frowned.
Of course there was an and.
I looked at the chain.
At my feet.
At the block.
"My center of mass was too high."
Father gave a slight nod.
"There."
That one word irritated me more than praise would have.
"There what?"
"You learned something."
"I learned that this is miserable."
"You knew that an hour ago."
I stared at him.
His mouth almost moved.
Almost.
"You smiled."
"No."
"You did."
"Pull."
"I saw it."
"Astri."
"Fine."
I leaned forward again.
This time the block moved immediately.
Not far.
But easier.
My body was still exhausted. I hadn't magically become stronger.
I had simply stopped wasting what strength I had.
That was one of Father's favorite lessons.
He could have explained it to me in ten seconds.
Instead, I had apparently needed to suffer for three hours.
Another step.
Then another.
My legs finally buckled.
The ground rose to meet me.
I landed face-first.
For several seconds, there was only dirt.
Cool, wonderful dirt.
I decided I liked dirt.
Dirt asked nothing of me.
Dirt never said again.
Footsteps approached.
Father stopped beside my head.
"Better."
I spat out a blade of grass.
"That's all?"
"You lasted fourteen seconds longer than yesterday."
I rolled onto my back.
The morning sky stretched overhead.
Bright.
Blue.
Peaceful.
Completely indifferent to my suffering.
"Fourteen seconds."
"Fourteen seconds is enough time to survive a mistake."
"There it is."
Father raised an eyebrow.
"What?"
"The lesson."
"We've been having a lesson."
"No. That was training. You always wait until I'm almost dead before saying something dramatic."
"I've never said anything dramatic in my life."
I laughed once.
That hurt my ribs.
"You're leaving for Temperance in three days," he continued.
There it was.
That stopped me.
Three days.
I knew that.
Obviously.
My bags had been sitting half-packed in my room for nearly a week.
Mother had checked them twice.
Bella had hidden a dead beetle inside one of them.
I had found it.
Eventually.
Still, hearing Father say it made the number feel smaller.
Three days until I left the Gravitas estate.
Three days until Temperance Academy.
Three days until the life I'd spent years preparing for actually started.
Father crouched and placed a hand on the lock around my waist.
The engraving flashed.
Click.
The chain dropped.
Relief washed through my entire body so quickly that I nearly laughed.
I spread my arms across the ground.
"I've never loved you more."
"Stand up."
"I take it back."
"We're going hunting."
I opened one eye.
"Hunting?"
"Yes."
"We hunted four days ago."
"This will be different."
Father stood.
Something in his voice had changed.
Only slightly.
But I knew him well enough to hear it.
I sat up.
"What are we hunting?"
He had already started walking toward the manor.
"Get cleaned up. Bring your bow and sword."
"That's not what I asked."
"I know."
"Father."
He didn't turn around.
"One hour."
I watched him disappear beneath the archway.
Then looked at the block beside me.
Its violet inscriptions faded.
"...One day," I muttered, "I'm throwing that thing into a lake."
I made it to my room through a combination of stubbornness and leaning against walls whenever no servants were looking.
The moment the door closed behind me, I collapsed onto my bed.
Soft.
Warm.
Not made of iron.
Perfect.
I sank into the mattress.
Maybe Father could hunt alone.
Maybe Temperance didn't need me.
Maybe this bed was my true calling.
Someone knocked.
I ignored it.
Another knock.
Still ignored it.
The door opened.
"Astri?"
I buried my face deeper into the pillow.
"He's dead."
A pause.
Then:
"Can I have his room?"
I lifted my head.
My younger sister stood in the doorway.
Bella Funtin Gravitas was sixteen years old and possessed a natural talent for becoming unbearable within seconds of entering a room.
Her dark-violet hair fell neatly past her shoulders, held by a white ribbon. Her dress matched the family's colors—white with thin violet embroidery along the sleeves.
She looked immaculate.
Then she looked at me.
Then at the dirt covering my clothes.
Then at the dirt now covering my sheets.
Her expression changed.
"Oh, you're dead."
"I already told you."
"Mother is going to kill you."
"Then why are you worried about the sheets?"
"Because I'll inherit them."
I dropped my head back onto the pillow.
"Leave me to die."
Instead, she walked inside.
"What did Father make you do?"
"The block."
"Again?"
"Three hours."
Bella winced.
For one beautiful second, I thought I had her sympathy.
Then she said, "You should probably stop being weak."
I threw a pillow at her.
She ducked.
It hit the door.
Bella grinned.
"Temperance is going to destroy you."
"Temperance doesn't have Father."
"No. It has hundreds of people whose entire purpose is to become stronger than you."
"That sounds relaxing."
She crossed her arms.
"You're nervous."
I sat up.
"No, I'm not."
"You are."
"I'm excited."
"Those aren't opposites."
That sounded annoyingly intelligent.
I decided to ignore it.
"I'm going hunting."
"Now?"
"Father said an hour."
Bella's expression shifted.
"Before your Awakening?"
That was the part I had been trying not to think about.
Tomorrow evening.
My Awakening ceremony.
Every child grew up surrounded by Mana.
It flowed through the air, soaked into the earth, fed forests, changed animals, powered the runes lighting our halls and the machinery beneath the estate.
But ordinary humans couldn't truly command it.
Not until they Awakened.
Not until Mana condensed within them and formed a Core.
An Inherent Core.
And with it—
a Pathway.
Flame.
Tide.
Stone.
Storm.
Light.
Nature.
Gravity.
Thousands of variations had been recorded throughout history.
Some common.
Some rare.
Some so strange that scholars argued for decades over whether they deserved to be considered separate Pathways at all.
House Gravitas had spent generations studying one above all others.
Gravity.
Our libraries were filled with it.
Our training grounds were built around it.
Our territory itself was saturated with it.
That didn't mean I would awaken it.
Blood influenced a person's Pathway.
It didn't dictate it.
Father had reminded me of that enough times.
You inherit opportunity, Astri. Not certainty.
Easy for him to say.
He had awakened Gravity.
As had Grandfather.
And Great-Grandmother.
And almost every head of House Gravitas anyone bothered putting into a portrait.
Bella snapped her fingers.
I blinked.
"You disappeared."
"I was thinking."
"Terrible habit."
"Jealous?"
"Deeply."
She walked toward the door.
Then hesitated.
"Astri?"
"Hm?"
"Whatever you awaken..."
She stopped.
Her mouth tightened as if she regretted starting.
"...don't be stupid about it."
I smiled.
"You came into my room to tell me that?"
"I came to make sure you remembered dinner tonight."
"That's much less touching."
"We're all eating together."
"We always eat together."
"You're leaving."
There it was again.
Three days.
Bella looked away.
"I'm not dying."
"With you, those are never entirely separate possibilities."
I laughed.
She opened the door.
"One hour," she said. "You should probably wash before Father decides dirt is another training method."
She stepped into the hall.
"Bella."
She glanced back.
"I'll be at dinner."
Her expression softened.
"Good."
Then her eyes dropped to my bed.
"And change those sheets."
The door shut.
I looked at the dirt.
"...Maybe."
Forty-five minutes later, I was clean.
Mostly.
A bruise had already begun spreading across my left shoulder, and the raw skin across my palms stung whenever I tightened my fingers.
I dressed for the forest.
Black trousers.
Dark boots.
White undershirt.
A sleeveless violet hunting coat reinforced with leather along the ribs and shoulders.
My sword went on my left hip.
My bow came next.
The weapon was made from dark spiritwood, its limbs carved with narrow inscriptions that could conduct elemental Mana.
Those inscriptions were currently decorative as far as I was concerned.
Until tomorrow, I was still a Normie.
An ordinary human.
A noble one, certainly.
A very tired one.
But ordinary.
I slung my quiver over my shoulder and looked into the mirror.
Dark-violet hair.
Amethyst eyes.
A face Mother insisted resembled hers more than Father's.
Thank the gods.
I adjusted my coat.
"Presentable."
A strand of hair immediately fell into my eyes.
"Close enough."
Father was already waiting at the forest gate.
Naturally.
I approached at a brisk walk.
He checked his pocket watch.
"Two minutes late."
"I was nearly crippled this morning."
"Then your recovery time needs improvement."
"I walked into that."
"Yes."
He put the watch away.
Past him stretched the Gravitas family forest.
Calling it a forest was technically accurate in the same way calling Father strict was technically accurate.
The outer sections looked normal enough.
Ancient trees.
Thick undergrowth.
Streams.
Moss-covered stone.
But the farther one traveled toward the Deepwell's influence, the stranger things became.
Mana had saturated the land for centuries.
Life had adapted.
Changed.
Awakened.
Father pushed open the gate.
Before he stepped through, he looked at me.
His expression hardened.
"Astri."
That tone.
I straightened.
"What?"
"We're hunting an Initial-Awakened beast."
For a moment, I genuinely thought I'd misheard him.
"...We?"
"You."
I stared.
Father stared back.
I pointed at myself.
"Me."
"Yes."
"The person who does not have a Core."
"Correct."
"Against something that does."
"You're following."
"Unfortunately."
I looked into the forest.
Then back at him.
"Why?"
Father's eyes narrowed slightly.
Not in irritation.
Approval.
It was always the question he wanted.
"Because tomorrow, you'll gain power."
I waited.
"And?"
"And I want to know what remains when you don't have it."
That answer killed the joke forming in my mouth.
Father stepped through the gate.
"Come."
I stood there another second.
Then followed.
The forest changed as we moved deeper.
A pair of winged rabbits scattered through the brush.
Small floating insects drifted beneath the canopy, glowing faintly blue.
We passed a tree whose roots curved several feet above the ground before descending again, as if they'd forgotten which direction soil was supposed to be.
Gravity Mana did strange things to living organisms over enough generations.
Father barely made a sound as he walked.
I tried to do the same.
Tried being the important word.
After almost an hour, he raised one hand.
I stopped instantly.
He crouched.
I followed.
Ahead, sunlight poured into a clearing.
Something large moved beneath a tree with golden leaves.
A bear.
No.
Not just a bear.
It stood on all fours and still reached nearly to my chest.
Dark brown fur covered a body packed with muscle. Thin white lines spiraled around its limbs, ribs, and neck, all converging beneath the center of its chest.
Above it hung clusters of pale fruit.
The bear raised its head.
One fruit trembled.
Then another.
The markings across the beast's body glowed violet.
The fruit tore free.
Not downward.
Sideways.
Straight into the creature's mouth.
My grip tightened around my bow.
Father leaned closer.
"Gravibear."
I knew of them.
Of course I did.
Anything associated with Gravity eventually appeared in a Gravitas lesson somewhere.
"Initial-Awakened," I whispered.
Father nodded.
Gravibears were among the weaker Awakened beasts inhabiting our territory.
That fact offered absolutely no comfort.
Weak for an Awakened beast did not mean weak for me.
I was still flesh.
Bones.
Blood.
A sword.
A bow.
No Mana.
No Core.
No supernatural reinforcement.
Father pointed toward my weapon.
"Your hunt."
I looked at him.
"Any advice?"
"Don't die."
I waited.
Nothing else came.
"Excellent mentorship."
Father's expression remained flat.
I slowly pulled an arrow free.
The Gravibear hadn't noticed us.
Yet.
I nocked the arrow.
Raised the bow.
Breathed.
Father had taught me hunting before he taught me swordsmanship.
Don't release because you can hit something.
Release when the probability of missing becomes unacceptable.
The bear raised another paw.
Its head turned slightly.
I adjusted.
Lower.
The throat was difficult.
Eye was smaller.
Jaw.
Its mouth opened.
I released.
The string snapped.
The arrow crossed the clearing.
Thwack.
It punched beneath the bear's lower jaw.
The beast roared.
Blood sprayed across the golden grass.
Its head whipped toward me.
Our eyes met.
"...Good start."
The Gravibear charged.
The ground shook.
I fired again.
The white markings along its body flashed violet.
My arrow dropped.
Not gradually.
One moment it was flying.
The next it slammed directly into the earth hard enough to snap.
Gravity field.
Localized.
Strong.
"Useful information!"
I threw myself sideways.
The Gravibear crashed through the space where I'd been standing.
Its paw struck a tree.
Bark exploded.
I hit the ground, rolled, and drew my sword.
The bear turned.
Fast.
Too fast.
Its right paw swept toward me.
I ducked.
Claws passed close enough to move my hair.
I cut across its foreleg.
The blade opened flesh.
Not deeply enough.
The beast roared.
Its markings brightened.
I saw it this time.
Violet light gathered first around the chest.
Spread through the limbs.
Then—
Pressure slammed down.
My knees hit the dirt.
Pain shot through my spine.
The sword nearly fell from my hand.
Everything became heavy.
My arms.
My head.
My lungs.
Even drawing breath felt like lifting stone.
I gritted my teeth.
Move.
The edge of the affected area was only a few steps away.
Three.
Maybe four.
My hand pressed against the ground.
I pushed.
Nothing.
The Gravibear lumbered closer.
Think.
The field increased downward force.
It didn't freeze me.
My body simply couldn't produce enough upward force normally.
So stop trying to stand.
I dropped completely.
Then drove both feet behind me.
Forward.
Not upward.
I threw myself along the ground.
The pressure weakened.
Then vanished.
I rolled outside the field and sucked in a breath.
The Gravibear charged.
Again.
I scrambled upright.
My mind raced.
Its power wasn't constant.
The markings brightened first.
The field had range.
It had direction.
And while maintaining it—
The bear's movement had slowed.
Why?
Concentration?
Mana consumption?
Or was its own body partially affected?
No time.
Its paw came down.
I moved left.
Too slow.
Claws caught my coat.
Pain burned across my ribs.
I stumbled.
The second strike caught me in the shoulder.
The world spun.
My back hit a tree.
For a moment, everything disappeared behind white light.
Then sound returned.
Leaves.
Growling.
My own breathing.
I tried to stand.
My leg failed.
The Gravibear approached.
Slowly.
Blood ran down my side.
My shoulder screamed whenever I moved it.
The rational thing was obvious.
Stay down.
Father was nearby.
He wouldn't let the beast kill me.
Probably.
I'd proved enough.
I had injured an Awakened beast without a Core.
No one reasonable could call that failure.
My fingers pressed into the dirt.
Stay down.
The bear came closer.
My eyes dropped to my hand.
Raw skin across the palm.
From the chain.
The block.
Fourteen seconds longer.
I laughed once.
It came out more like a cough.
"Of course."
The Gravibear growled.
My body wanted to stop.
That wasn't new.
My body had wanted to stop all morning.
The first time something hurt had never been my limit.
The first time something failed had never meant it couldn't work.
I pushed myself upright.
My injured shoulder shook.
The Gravibear lowered its head.
"Come on."
It charged.
This time I didn't watch the claws.
I watched the markings.
Violet.
Chest.
Limbs.
Now.
I changed direction before the field formed.
The ground beside me cracked under increased gravity.
The bear stumbled as it turned.
There.
Its right side dipped.
Every time it used the field while moving, it compensated through its left foreleg.
Why?
The power wasn't perfectly centered.
Of course it wasn't.
Its Core had formed naturally.
Its body had adapted around an ability, not mathematics.
There would be imperfections.
I ran toward it.
The Gravibear raised its paw.
I moved to its right.
It turned.
Too slowly.
My sword cut into the already wounded foreleg.
Deep.
The beast screamed.
I pulled the blade free.
It swiped.
I ducked.
Another cut.
Same leg.
It tried to establish the gravity field.
The markings flashed.
I was already moving.
Pressure crushed the ground behind me.
The Gravibear staggered.
Its damaged foreleg collapsed.
I saw the opening.
I stepped inside its reach and drove the sword beneath its ribs.
The blade sank halfway.
The beast convulsed.
One paw struck my back.
Pain detonated through me.
I nearly let go.
Nearly.
I tightened both hands.
One more.
I pushed.
The blade moved deeper.
The Gravibear's markings flickered.
Its massive body trembled.
Then the violet light went out.
Silence.
The beast collapsed.
I ripped the sword free and stumbled backward before several hundred kilograms of bear hit the earth.
For a few seconds, I remained standing.
Mostly because my body hadn't yet realized it could stop.
Then my knees gave.
I sat beside the corpse.
Blood.
Sweat.
Dirt.
My sword rested across my lap.
I stared at the Gravibear.
"...Huh."
Father emerged from the trees.
I looked up.
"I think it's dead."
"I noticed."
"You're welcome."
"For?"
"Protecting you."
Father looked at the dead bear.
Then at me.
"Of course."
I grinned.
Then immediately regretted it when my ribs hurt.
Father walked past me and crouched beside the corpse.
He drew a short knife.
"What are you doing?"
"Finishing the hunt."
He cut through the Gravibear's chest.
I had seen animals butchered before.
This was different.
Father knew exactly where to cut.
After several moments, his hand disappeared beneath the beast's ribs.
When he withdrew it, something violet rested in his palm.
I forgot about the pain.
A crystal.
No.
Not a crystal.
A Core.
Roughly the size of my fist.
Dark-violet light pulsed beneath its translucent surface.
The surrounding air felt heavier.
Barely.
But unmistakably.
Father wiped the blood away and held it where I could see.
"A Gravibear Core."
I stared.
"You're keeping it?"
"No."
He looked at me.
"You are."
For once, I had nothing sarcastic to say.
Father produced a metal case from inside his coat.
The interior was covered in inscriptions.
He placed the Core inside.
The moment the lid shut, the faint pressure vanished.
Then he handed it to me.
I accepted it carefully.
It felt strangely heavy.
Not physically.
Something else.
"Why?"
Father sat across from me.
"Tomorrow you'll form your Inherent Core."
"If everything works."
"When everything works."
I looked up.
That might have been the closest thing to confidence he'd expressed all week.
He continued.
"Your Inherent Core will define the Pathway your body naturally accepts."
I nodded.
Everyone knew that.
"And this?"
"An External Core."
I looked back at the case.
External Cores weren't rare enough to be mythical.
But they weren't casual things either.
Beast Cores were resources.
Weapons.
Medicine.
Fuel.
Research material.
And, sometimes—
they could become part of a person.
"You want me to absorb it."
"No."
That surprised me.
Father leaned forward.
"I want you to decide whether you should."
I frowned.
"What's the difference?"
"Everything."
He pointed toward the case.
"You killed that beast. Its Core is yours. If you awaken Gravity tomorrow, the Core may strengthen the Pathway you already possess."
"And if I don't?"
"Then integrating it would make you dual-core."
My pulse quickened.
Dual-Core Awakened were uncommon.
Powerful.
Versatile.
And notoriously difficult to develop.
Father must have seen the excitement on my face.
"Stop."
"What?"
"That expression."
"What expression?"
"The one you make immediately before doing something stupid."
"I don't have one of those."
"You do."
I looked down at the case.
Father continued.
"More power does not mean better power."
I waited.
"That's disappointingly vague."
"Then ask the correct question."
I looked at him.
Why?
He nodded before I even spoke.
Of course.
"Why is a second Core dangerous?"
"Because power has to be carried."
House Gravitas.
There it was again.
Father gestured toward my chest.
"Your body must sustain it. Your Mana must feed it. Your mind must understand it. Every additional Pathway increases what is required from you."
"So if I can handle it—"
"You don't know whether you can."
"Yet."
Father studied me.
A long silence followed.
Then, finally:
"Good."
I frowned.
"Good?"
"That was the correct answer."
He stood.
I looked at the case again.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow, I would stop being a Normie.
Tomorrow, I would discover the Pathway that might follow me for the rest of my life.
Gravity, maybe.
Something else, maybe.
And sitting in my hands was already another choice.
Not destiny.
Not inheritance.
A choice.
Father began walking toward the trail.
I stayed seated.
"Astri."
"I'm injured."
"You said the hunt was successful."
"Those statements aren't related."
"We have dinner."
I stared at his back.
"Could you at least carry me?"
"No."
"Father."
"You killed an Awakened beast."
"Yes."
"Walk."
I looked down at the Gravibear Core.
Then toward the long trail home.
Then back at Father.
For some reason, the iron block from that morning came to mind.
The family maxim was carved above the entrance of our manor.
Three words every Gravitas child knew.
We carry what must be carried.
I had always thought it sounded unnecessarily dramatic.
I pushed myself to my feet.
My ribs protested.
My shoulder hurt.
My legs felt terrible.
The metal case remained clutched in my hand.
Tomorrow suddenly felt heavier than the block.
I smiled.
Then I started walking.