Inside the wooden house, César was alone.
The girls were still focused on opening their mana veins, while his mother and Asia were attempting to break into the next realm.
He went straight to what was now his room.
A simple bed made of straw and animal hide.
His body was still trembling as he sat cross-legged.
He hadn't noticed it during the fight.
Only after lowering his sword and feeling his arms shake did he realize it: a deep burn in his muscles, as if every fiber had been stretched beyond its natural limit.
Even after opening all sixteen of his mana veins, César had never slowed down. He never stopped training his body. On the contrary, he increased the intensity each day.
Not because it was easy.
But because it was necessary.
Sweat ran down his forehead as he finally relaxed.
He glanced out the window and saw his brother in the distance, still outside.
Gobol leaned against a tree trunk, breathing heavily but smiling despite his exhaustion.
He remembered what Gobol had said.
"You were tougher than usual today," Gobol had panted. "Today… I felt something different."
He wasn't wrong.
César felt it too.
He was close to reaching Martial Apprentice.
But something felt off.
This wasn't normal fatigue.
It wasn't just muscle exhaustion.
There was pressure beneath his skin. Something building inside his chest.
He closed his eyes.
'Aura.'
Suddenly, the world sharpened.
César opened his eyes.
He raised his hand.
And then it happened.
There was no light.
No explosion.
Just a tremor.
Something coursed down his arm, from shoulder to fingertips—a warm, dense current, as if his blood had thickened for a moment. The sword vibrated faintly in his grip.
He looked at his green skin.
No visible change.
But he knew.
'That was… Aura.'
It faded as quickly as it came, leaving behind an uncomfortable emptiness.
His strength vanished.
He fell to his knees, gasping.
He licked his dry lips.
His heart pounded.
Not from fear.
From hunger.
"I did it," he whispered. "The first step… I've entered Martial Apprentice."
The room remained silent. No witnesses. No proclamation.
He clenched his fist.
He had been weak in his past life.
He had lived without purpose.
Aura was despised in this world.
But he knew its true value.
It was the key to walking the most powerful path—the Path of Ether.
The next morning, the forest clearing was full.
Young and old goblins stood in uneven rows. Some carried crude weapons. Others only their fists.
All were silent.
César stood at the center.
"I want you to listen carefully."
The murmurs died instantly.
"Until now, your training has been purely physical. Endurance. Strikes. Falls."
He walked slowly before them.
"That doesn't change."
A few frowned.
"But starting today, you will learn to feel something else."
He stopped.
"Aura."
A whisper passed through the ranks.
"Aura is not magic," César said. "It does not respond to words or rituals. It cannot be summoned."
He closed his eyes briefly.
"It responds to the limit."
He planted his feet.
"Watch."
He clenched his fist.
Nothing happened.
A few exchanged glances.
'Don't force it.'
He remembered the burn. The pressure.
He breathed.
Then his arm trembled.
No light.
No spectacle.
But for a brief moment, the air felt heavier.
Some goblins stepped back instinctively.
"This is Aura."
He relaxed, and it vanished.
"It is unstable. Incomplete. Dangerous if pursued incorrectly."
He drove his sword into the ground.
"From today onward, the army follows a single method."
"First the body. Until it trembles."
Silence.
"You will train until you reach the realm I call Martial Apprentice."
A goblin stepped forward.
"What if we fail?"
César did not hesitate.
"Then you become builders, farmers, gatherers. In this village, no one rests and eats for free."
He clapped once.
"No excuses. No 'I can't.' No 'what if.' Today you will break. You will feel pain. And many of you may never awaken it."
His gaze hardened.
"But those who do… will not remain the same."
Training began.
Brutal.
They ran until they vomited.
Struck trees until their skin split.
Held stances until their legs collapsed.
César trained harder than all of them.
By nightfall, many lay scattered beneath the moon, unable to move.
César looked over them.
'This is not the greatest army in the world.'
'But it is the army I built.'
He was still far from changing the world.
But the path had begun.