A/N: Enjoy chap
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Noah grunted and counted under his breath.
"Twelve… Thirteen…"
My arms trembled. The floorboards under my palms felt rough, and dust bit into my palms. I forced my elbows to bend again, my body lowering like it was being pulled down by a weight tied to my ribs.
"Fourteen…" I grunted and barely uttered the number.
My shoulders burned. The muscle under my triceps twitched; I'd lost all feeling about ten minutes ago, and it was a miracle I could even continue. I held for a heartbeat at the bottom and tried to push.
Nothing.
I collapsed face-first onto the floor with a dull thud, cheek pressed into cold wood. For a moment, all I did was take a dogged breath, lungs dragging air in like they had to earn it. Sweat dripped off my brow and into my eyelashes. It stung.
"Pathetic," I mumbled into the floor.
Two days.
Two days since I'd decided to train for the entrance test.
Two days of pushups, squats, running, and then crawling back to the table to cram books until my eyes blurred, and every muscle in my body screamed.
The routine was simple, but it was brutal. For now, it was all I had.
I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling.
The basement light was weak. The air still carried a faint yeast smell from above. My hands tingled as feeling crept back into them.
I closed my eyes for a brief second.
The familiar pressure settled behind my eyes.
[CONDITION]
Overall: 84%
– Upper limb fatigue: high
– Muscle micro-tearing: mild
– Hydration: low
Recommendation: water, food, rest
I sat up with a groan and dragged myself to the chair. "I guess I could've done more."
I shook off my sweat and flexed my fingers as I pulled the chair closer to the table.
My notebook was open. The pages were already filled with messy headings and lists. The stack of books sat beside it, the top one still opened to a chapter on coalition formation.
I picked up the history book and forced my eyes to focus.
The book was filled with numerous dates, details and drawings. It was as if the book was crammed with every last minor thing possible. I started to read it aloud; it was a habit from my student days. Something about making it stick better.
"The Human Coalition was formed in the year 3231," I said, voice hoarse. "Following the Eastern Accords and the Third Border Collapse."
My pencil hovered over the page.
I underlined 3231 twice and kept reading.
Names. Dates. Territories. Shifts in leadership. The slow movement of scattered nations into a coalition was because there was no choice.
For the last two days, I had been reading this massive history book. Now, I was almost halfway through it. However, while doing that, I'd also found a new way to use [Insight]. One I never thought of before.
"In the game, it never worked like that," I murmured. I knew it wasn't an evolution of [Insight]. My gift was already the highest rank. The only other explanation I could come up with was that it was the world bringing it to life.
I mean, this was no longer a game. The fact that I could always use [Insight] without some sort of cooldown was already a big indicator that things weren't following a game system.
"Let's try this again." I flipped over to the next page.
I read the paragraph once, and just as I finished, it did not fade. Instead, the text collected itself into a bubble and flittered over the book. As if plucked out of the pages. This bubble sat neatly behind my perception, filed and labelled, waiting for me to call on it.
Akin to a separate brain storing what I learned.
It was unsettling.
It was also exactly what I needed.
I flipped a page.
Read.
Filed.
Flipped again.
The hours blurred.
At some point, the history book ended, and the geography one began. Mountains, frontlines, wardlines, regions. Before I knew it, I had somehow flipped to the last page.
I looked up, and hundreds of faint bubbles floated above the book. As my thoughts shifted, they disappeared, as if they were never there.
"So something similar to a memory?" I muttered.
I turned back three chapters, picked a random heading, and tried to recall what I'd read.
A bubble came back instantly, expanding across my sight, hovering over the page. Even as I closed the book, it didn't disappear.
My fingers tightened on the edge of the book.
"That's…" I whispered. "That's insane."
I took a breath in. This time I tried recalling the heading without looking at it. At most, I simply whispered it in my mind.
The bubble appeared again. Containing the summary of whatever I had learned.
"So it really is like a memory bank." I bit my lips. A strange thrill ran through me.
'Can I remember everything?'
I hastily recalled a few key dates. Names of battles, commanders, and nations. Eventually, I moved to try to recall the crude maps I'd seen.
But no matter what I tried, as long as I'd read it previously. [Insight] would throw a transparent bubble at me containing everything I'd learned. This was far more useful than I'd expected.
I had immediately drafted several plans in my head to find a useful stash of books and just read through them when I could.
[ATTRIBUTE UPDATE]
Intelligence has increased slightly.
I blinked.
The words stayed for a heartbeat, then faded.
My stomach twisted, half excitement, half dread.
"Guess reading those books paid off indirectly, too." A smirk hung on my lips.
I set the history and geography books aside like they were hot. Finally, I picked up the Entrance Guide.
I read fast.
Insight soaked it up greedily.
The speed at which I was learning started to feel wrong. Like I was cheating.
Maybe I was. But who cared?
Then a knock rattled the basement door.
I froze mid-sentence.
Before I could answer, the latch popped, and the door swung inward with a gust of cold wind that slapped my face.
Marin barged in like he owned the place, which technically he did. He carried a bowl of steaming soup in one hand and a rolling pin in the other.
"Up already," he grunted. "I thought you would be dead in your chair."
"I'm not," I said, rubbing at my eyes. "Yet."
He set the bowl down hard enough that the spoon jumped.
The scent of soup filled the basement, rich and warm. My stomach responded immediately, loud enough that Marin's eyebrows twitched.
He glanced at the table, at the stack of books, and then back at me.
"You are studying," he said, almost like it was a shock to him.
"I am?" I answered with a frown.
"I didn't even know you could read," he said, then didn't wait. "Do you even understand a word you've read?"
"Yeah, it wasn't as hard as I'd expected."
Marin snorted.
I shook my head, the corner of my mouth lifting despite myself.
He leaned forward and poked the closed history book with one finger. "Really. How is it going?"
"I finished that one," I said.
Marin stared at me.
Then he coughed like he'd inhaled flour wrong. "Finished? You mean for the day?"
"The history and geography," I clarified. "Finished, as in completely."
He blinked once, slowly. Like he was waiting for me to laugh.
I didn't.
Marin grunted in disbelief and snatched the history book off the pile with a rough hand. He flipped it open, pages fanning, and eyed me over the top like a suspicious teacher.
"If you are lying," he said, "I will make you bake the entire next batch alone."
"Sounds like you like what I bake." I shrugged
"Bah! It's the worst thing I've tasted. Fine, not baking. But you will be punished in one way or the other."
"The Year Coalition was formed," he snapped.
"3231," I replied immediately.
He narrowed his eyes. "The Accords."
"Eastern Accords," I said. "After the Third Border Collapse. They unified the territories under a coalition framework, not a monarchy. Emergency doctrine became permanent."
Marin stared at me like I had grown an extra head.
He asked another question.
I answered.
Then another.
Same result.
Marin closed the book slowly.
He set it down on the table in disbelief.
"Hm," he hummed and took another look at me. A new emotion colored his gaze. I could only describe it as 'Curiosity'.
Marin looked at the soup, then at me.
"The sun will be up in two hours," he said. "We start work before then. Eat your soup. Then come upstairs."
I nodded.
Marin turned, climbed the stairs, and paused at the top.
He glanced back once, eyes drifting around the room. The cleaned floor. The stack of books. The notebook is filled with plans.
His eyes softened for a fraction. I saw him stop, but pretended to ignore him. I somewhat knew what he felt. But he wasn't the type of person to let others find out his problems. Not easily anyway.
Then he grunted, shut the door, and left me with the soup steam and my own thoughts.
I ate.
It tasted like warmth.
When the bowl was empty, I wiped it clean, stacked my books carefully, and stood.
My arms still trembled slightly from the pushups. My legs felt heavy. My brain felt strangely sharp.
Two days.
It wasn't much.
It was a start.
-
An hour later, I was upstairs.
The bakery was already up and running. Dough rising. Marin moving around with the stubborn precision of someone who could do it all half-asleep. To be honest, I was half sure his eyes were closed while kneading the dough.
I washed cutting boards, scrubbed bowls, and wiped down counters. My hands moved automatically, half training, half labour.
When the loaves went into the oven, I paused at the back slit of the door and glanced outside.
The horizon was dyed with pale gold.
Snow still clung to corners and rooftops, but the sky had that slow, reluctant light that promised a new day.
I finished the last board, hung my apron, and rolled my shoulders.
Marin looked up, saw the motion, and grunted.
"Running again," he said.
"Every day," I replied.
"You will wear out your shoes."
"I'll replace them when I'm rich."
"So never?" Marin cackled and went back to his dough.
I stepped out into the cold and started jogging.
The streets were quieter this early. "Southern Ridge" was a medium-sized city at best. A few central marketplaces. A few side roads. A handful of shops clustered where people could reach them without wandering too far into empty streets.
The architecture I had seen was pseudo-modern. Or rather, it resembled a modern city. But there were far too many things that seemed missing. Firstly, there were barely any cars. Only public transport.
There was a tram line, but it didn't go on roads. Rather, its rail lines were suspended in the sky with cables and pillars.
I ran the block. Then again.
As I moved, I started mapping.
Bakery. Two turns down, a tailor's shop with a shuttered window. Across the street, a small clinic with a ward pylon near the door. The marketplace entrance. A narrow alley that smelled like old oil.
I could see a row of apartment buildings in the distance. A maze of a living complex that the city had for most of its residents. But the marketplaces were still the only area for commerce.
By the time I finished my laps, I was panting for breaths. My heart still raced, but it was somewhat more controlled.
I slowed to a walk and headed back to the bakery.
When I pushed the door open, the bell chimed softly.
A customer stood at the counter.
He was Awakened. I knew before I even saw the band. It was in the way he carried himself, the way the air around him felt slightly heavier.
'That sensation. Mana?' My eyes then drifted to the sword hung at his side.
Not a ceremonial one. Not a decorative piece.
A real blade, worn at the grip, scuffed at the guard.
My eyes caught on it and stayed there a fraction of a second too long.
Something in my chest tightened.
The man paid, nodded once to Marin, and left with a loaf under his arm.
The bell chimed again.
The bakery fell back into its familiar quiet.
Marin didn't look up. He was already kneading again, hands moving with expertise.
I cleared my throat.
"Marin," I said.
He grunted.
"Is there a weapon shop in town?"
That got him to pause.
Slowly, he looked up at me.
His eyes travelled over my sweat-damp hair, my too-thin frame, the way my hands flexed unconsciously.
Marin hummed, surprised enough that it came out almost like a laugh.
"A weapon shop," he repeated.
"Yes," I said.
Marin's gaze drifted to the door, as if watching the Awakened customer vanish.
Then he looked back at me, expression flat, voice dry.
"Maybe? But it's somewhat complicated."