Dawn barely managed to pierce through the forest canopy.
While training, César raised his sword as he had done countless times before.
Today he was particularly happy. After relentless effort, he had finally opened all sixteen of his mana veins. He had not yet formed his core—but that no longer mattered. He was one step away from creating his mana core and entering the realm he had named: Core Formation.
'One step closer,' he thought with satisfaction.
But he pushed those thoughts aside. Today was not a day for meditation.
Today was a day for training.
He approached the crude rack beside a fallen tree, where several rudimentary weapons rested, and picked up a sword that felt suitable.
It was not an epic blade nor a legendary weapon like those wielded by heroes in stories.
It was short, poorly balanced, forged from impure iron and gripped by green hands.
Even so, to him, it weighed like a long-postponed truth.
Today would be his first real combat training. In this life… and the previous one.
In his past life, he had never fought.
He had seen fights. He had read about them. He had imagined countless times what it would feel like to wield a weapon. But as a human, he had never truly needed to know how.
Now, reincarnated as a goblin, he did not have that luxury.
"Stop standing there staring," his brother growled impatiently.
Ever since choosing to walk the dual path of Mana and Aura, Gobol had not allowed himself a single day of rest.
"Attack."
Gobol, his brother by only a few seconds, held his training sword with clumsy hands but the confidence of habit. His fangs showed when he spoke, and his yellow eyes gleamed with restrained amusement.
César exhaled slowly.
'We're both novices. There's no reason to lose. I've trained my body since I could move freely.'
He did not attack immediately. First, he focused.
First the body. Then the mind.
That was the foundation of the Aura path.
Aura existed naturally within all living beings. At his current stage, it could only be stimulated through extreme exertion: strength, endurance, pain, survival.
There was no conscious control—only raw reinforcement.
The body would begin retaining Aura without dissipating it. When that happened, one could say it had officially awakened.
He had not yet reached the stage he called Martial Apprentice, but he felt he was close.
Gobol, impatient, moved first.
His strike was wide and careless. César saw it coming and deflected it easily; metal clashed sharply in the forest clearing.
"Slow," César mocked, trying to provoke him.
Inside, however, he felt grateful. His physical training was paying off.
"If this were a real fight, you'd already be dead."
Gobol stepped back, teeth clenched.
"I know."
This time, he did not attack immediately. He observed.
He focused on the weight of his sword.
On César's foot placement.
On the slight delay in his right shoulder before each counterattack.
César attacked again—direct, unrefined.
Gobol raised his sword just in time. The impact shot through his arms like a blunt strike. It hurt—not like a wound, but like a lesson.
"Again," Gobol said calmly.
César frowned at his brother's stubbornness.
Then he smiled.
'He's excited too.'
Gobol attacked once more.
This time, César did not attempt a full block. He deflected just enough and stepped aside, feeling the damp earth beneath his bare feet. The movement was clumsy… but it worked.
Gobol's blade passed by him.
César countered.
The training sword struck his brother's side with a dull thud.
Silence.
Gobol's eyes widened in surprise.
"You won!"
César lowered his sword, breathing heavily. His heart pounded—not from fear, but from something new. Something dangerous.
"So this is fighting."
There was no glory.
No epic grandeur.
Only sweat, pain, and calculation.
And he liked it.
"Again," César said, a restrained smile forming.
Gobol hesitated for a moment. He knew he still needed more training to stand on equal footing… but he nodded anyway.
He would try again.
The path of Aura was still distant.
But César would not give up.
He would keep training until he reached it.