Beyond the border, where the last stone markers of the kingdom sank into the earth and the road narrowed into little more than a wandering trail, Alex and the old man disguise themselves. The silks and sigils of their former lives were carefully hidden away, replaced with travel-stained cloaks, worn leather, and the unremarkable arms of common adventurers.
They crossed into foreign lands beneath an open sky, blending into the endless stream of wanderers drawn by coin, rumor, or fate.
Old man asked Alex to do some training with the black sword he got from Kane. He asked to show all the techniques and methods he knows about the swords.
Alex was showing his techniques; old man quietly observed his moment and techniques.
"As expected of Great Sage magic there was no flaw in your basics; the only thing you need is to build your body. There was some sloppy moment because of your weak physique."
Alex, ashamed of his weakness, avoids eye contact with the old man.
" For now swing your sword 100 times in the morning and evening. And focus all the other time on training your body"
Alex started training as per the old man's guidance after swinging his sword 100 times and running one mile; he lay on the ground out of breath and was unable to move his body. The old man stepped behind Alex and gently guided him to the ground, pressing him down until he sat cross-legged on the cold stone floor. Though the motion appeared simple, there was an undeniable authority in it—one that left no room for resistance. Alex's trembling legs folded instinctively, as if his body recognized the old man's will before his mind could.
"Steady your breathing," the old man murmured, his voice low and gravel-worn, yet carrying a strange warmth.
Before Alex could respond, two firm palms settled against his back, right between his shoulder blades. The touch was neither gentle nor cruel—it was precise. In the next instant, a powerful surge coursed through Alex's body.
Mana.
It was not the wild, chaotic energy Alex had felt before, but something ancient and disciplined. The old man forced the mana into Alex's meridian points with unwavering control, pushing it through blocked channels that had long been stagnant. Pain flared sharply, like fire ripping through frozen veins, and Alex gasped, his fingers digging into his knees.
"Endure," the old man said calmly.
The mana continued to circulate, spiraling inward, striking specific points along Alex's spine and lower dantian. Each impact sent waves of pressure through his body, forcing impure energy out and releasing what had been twisted. Sweat poured down Alex's face, yet beneath the pain, something else began to bloom.
Relief.
The burning sensation slowly softened into warmth. The tight knot in his chest loosened, his aching limbs grew lighter, and the constant, dull pain he had carried for so long began to fade like a receding storm. With each completed cycle of mana circulation, Alex felt as though invisible chains were being shattered inside him.
His breathing steadied. His heartbeat slowed.
The old man's palms remained unmoving, but the force behind them was relentless, guiding the mana with masterful precision. Finally, after one last powerful circulation, the old man withdrew his hands.
Alex swayed slightly, then straightened.
A profound sense of lightness washed over him, as if his body weighed only half of what it once did. His muscles relaxed completely, and even his mind felt clearer and quieter. The pain was gone, not merely gone forgotten.
Alex opened his eyes slowly, astonishment flickering across his face.
"I… feel different," he whispered.
Old man gives Alex a potion to drink.
" What you felt is mana. This is the first time you feel it; that's why it hurt a little, but don't worry; it will help your growth and after some time it stops hurting. I will continue to open your body to mana after training."
Alex thought "So this is mana which helps in magic and it is very useful my body feels so relaxed and strong. Wow ! This is awesome. Finally I got something"
They continued their journey, following winding mountain paths, forest roads, and valleys where the mist never fully lifted.
Alex training began at dawn.
Each morning, Alex swings the sword 100 times.
After that the old man pushed Alex relentlessly—running through steep terrain, balancing on narrow cliff edges, standing beneath freezing waterfalls to temper both body and spirit. When Alex collapsed, gasping and exhausted, the old man helped him by injecting mana into Alex's body.
"Stand again," he would say.
And Alex always did.
At evening Alex only swings his sword and then helps the old man to set up firewood and dinner.
With each passing day, Alex felt himself changing.
The constant pain that once haunted his body was gone. In its place was a quiet strength, steady and restrained.
One evening, as they rested on a ridge overlooking a sea of clouds, Alex asked, "Sir, I know it's late but where are we going? "
" To the Kingdom of Swords, The Iron Blaze, home to the masters of the sword realm. "
Alex is somewhat confused "Is that person going to be there? "
Old explains the person that they were looking for is not there, but they can find clues on the whereabouts of that person in the Iron Blaze kingdom. And also there are others who can provide answers to there some questions. It will also help for Alex growth.
"Stronger you get helps Nonki share less energy "
Alex fell silent, gazing into the endless horizon. For the first time, he felt no fear of what lay ahead—only resolve.
And so, they continued onward.
Two figures walking beneath the vast sky—one carrying the weight of countless years, the other steadily forging himself anew with every step.
After some days.
Old man after helping Alex with mana.
" That's odd.... I am passing mana to you everyday and everyday more and more mana path opens and create new mana point"
Alex asked "Is that bad thing?"
Old man with his serious expression explains "Yeah this is a bad number of paths and mana is exceeded ten times the average mage. Now it's like that your body is made up of mana"
Old man inspected Alex's body for abnormalities but didn't find anything, and after thinking, he decided to stop further injecting mana into Alex's body.
They arrived at the border of the Iron Blaze kingdom. The Kingdom's outer gate rose like a slumbering giant, its walls stretching wide and tall, forged from weathered gray stone veined with age. Massive iron-bound doors stood open, but the sense of welcome ended there.
A line of travelers had formed before the gate.
At the front of the line, travelers were stopped one by one. Guards in polished steel armor demanded names, origins, and intent.
When Alex and Old Man's identity were asked. Old man takes out old damaged silver token.
"This is my grandson Alex. We are here to get him registered as an adventurer"
Guard check his token and let them pass.
The Kingdom of Swords rose from the plains like a blade drawn from the earth. Its walls were not rounded or gentle, but sharp and angular, each tower shaped to break an enemy's charge. Steel rang constantly in the air—training yards never slept, and the sound of clashing blades was as common as birdsong.
Every citizen bore a weapon. Children practiced forms with wooden blades, and even the old walked with daggers at their sides. Here, steel was not a tool of violence alone, but of identity.
Alex felt the weight of unseen eyes as they entered the capital. Warriors judged their stance, their grip, the way their hand hovered near their hilt. In this kingdom, a man's worth was measured not by his words, but by how he carried his blade.
Old man told Alex to get himself registered as an adventurer as it would be helpful in furthering the journey. Old man guided him to the Adventurer hall and left saying he had worked here and would come back in a while. Alex was nervous but the old man told him to relax; the registration process only required his name.
Alex entered the Adventure Hall with a mix of awe and nervous excitement tightening his chest.
The massive doors groaned shut behind him, sealing out the noise of the city and replacing it with a living storm of voices, steel, and magic. Adventurers filled the hall from wall to wall—scarred warriors laughing over tankards, robed mages murmuring to glowing spell books, archers comparing arrowheads sharp enough to split hair. Armor clinked with every step, and the air smelled of iron, leather, and old parchment.
Alex hesitated, suddenly aware of how plain he looked among legends-in-the-making. Still, he straightened his back and moved forward. The receptionist's desk stood at the heart of the hall, a polished oak counter worn smooth by thousands of hopeful hands. Behind it sat a woman with silver hair tied neatly back, her sharp eyes missing nothing as she stamped forms with ease.
When Alex approached, she looked up, one eyebrow lifting slightly.
"Name?" She asked.
"Alex," he replied, his voice steadier than he felt.
She slid a thick ledger toward him, its pages filled with names—some crossed out, some marked with symbols he didn't yet understand. "Welcome to the Adventure Hall," she said, a faint smile touching her lips. "Sign here, and your journey begins."
Alex signed.
She gave him a brown token.
Brown Rank she explained "Every adventurer starts here. Errands, monster hunts, guard duty. It's where resolve is tested, and many turns back."
Next came silver, cool and polished, catching the torchlight like moonshine. "Silver Rank adventurers have survived long enough to be trusted. They take real contracts—dangerous ones. Kingdoms recognize them as professionals, not hopefuls."
"Gold Rank is rare," she said. When a Gold adventurer arrives, wars pause and monsters learn fear.
The highest rank was "Dual Crown Rank". Even the noise of the hall seemed to soften by mentioning it. It was neither silver nor gold, yet both metal braided together in a flawless union.
A rank above nations. Holders answer to no lord, no banner. Kings negotiate with them as equals.
Alex's breath caught.
There was a special rank, The Black Token. "This is not a rank one earns lightly," she said. "The Black Authority Token. It grants power second only to a reigning king—over armies, courts, and law itself. "Only a handful exist throughout history."
She gave him a task as it was necessary for beginners to fulfil; it was guard duty. Alex took the task and walked outside the hall. He took a deep breath of relief and decided to wait for the old man. While Alex waited for the old man, a shaman passed him without a glance—an angular figure wrapped in layers of bone charms and ash-dyed robes, footsteps whispering against the stone like dry leaves. The air stirred in the shaman's wake, carrying the scent of smoke and old rain. For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the shaman stopped.
Slowly, as if pulled by an unseen tide, he turned back. His eyes widened beneath the shadow of his headdress, pupils reflecting something not entirely of this world. He crossed the distance in measured steps, staff trembling in his grip, and before Alex could speak, the shaman sank to his knees.
"Marked by the ancient" shaman whispered.