The Anomaly's Path

The days blurred together after that first spar with Kael.

I stopped keeping track of them somewhere around the third or fourth. They all looked the same anyway—early mornings, brutal workouts, collapsing in the snow, getting up, doing it again. The only thing that changed was how much pain I felt when I moved, and even that stopped mattering after a while.

Every day started the same.

My Mana-Phone would buzz at 4:30, and I’d lie there for a few seconds, staring at the ceiling, trying to remember why I’d agreed to any of this. Then I’d drag myself to the bathroom, splash cold water on my face, and get ready for another round of hell.

Lyra was always there when I opened my door. Holding out a thermal flask of hot broth. Giving me that small smile. Watching me walk toward the training yard like she was sending me off to war.

Every night ended the same too. I’d stumble back to my room, barely able to stand, and she’d be there waiting. Making sure I ate something. Making sure I drank water. Making sure I didn’t collapse in the hallway and freeze to death.

I didn’t know what I’d done to deserve her. Probably nothing. But I was grateful anyway.

The training with Vex didn’t get easier. If anything, it got harder. He pushed us more each day, demanded more, expected more. The runs got longer. The exercises got more brutal. The obstacle courses got more ridiculous.

But something had changed since that first spar.

The other recruits didn’t look at me like a stranger anymore.

Mira—the short-haired woman who never quit—started nodding at me during water breaks. Sometimes she’d pass me her canteen without saying a word, just a small gesture that said more than any conversation could.

Dain—the gray-bearded guy who was older than everyone but worked twice as hard—would clap me on the shoulder when I finished a run. ”Good job, kid,” he’d say, his voice rough but warm.

Even Kael was different now.

He still sat near me during breaks. Still matched my pace during runs. Still made sarcastic comments that were annoying but not mean anymore. We weren’t friends exactly—I wasn’t sure either of us knew how to do that—but we weren’t enemies either.

”You’re still alive,” he said one morning, dropping down beside me during a water break.

”...Barely,” I gasped.

He snorted. ”That’s more than I expected from a noble.”

”I’m starting to think you just like saying ’noble’ like it’s a bad word.”

He considered this. ”Maybe I do.”

I shook my head, but I was smiling. Just a little.

The days passed.

I learned to read Vex’s moods—when he was going to push us harder (always), when he was going to go easy (never), when he was actually impressed by something even if he never said it. A slight nod. A pause before he moved to the next exercise. The way his eyes would linger on someone who’d done well.

I learned the other recruits too. Their names. Their faces. Their strengths and weaknesses.

Mira was fastest on the obstacle course, her small frame letting her move through tight spaces that the bigger guys struggled with. But she had trouble with the heavy lifting, her arms giving out before anyone else’s.

Dain was slow but steady. His older body couldn’t keep up with the young ones, but his endurance was unmatched. He could run all day without stopping, a quiet determination in his eyes that I couldn’t help but respect.

Kael was good at everything. Fast, strong, smart. He was young too—probably three or four years older than me, which meant he’d been doing this since before I even knew this world existed.

He could have been arrogant about it, could have looked down on everyone else the way he’d looked down on me that first day. But somewhere along the way, something had shifted.

”Why do you care?” I asked him once, late in the second week. We were sitting in the snow after training, both of us too tired to move, watching the sun set over the fortress walls.

He was quiet for a long moment. Then he turned to look at me.

”Because you’re not what I expected,” he said. ”You’re here every day. You get knocked down, you get back up. You don’t make excuses. You don’t blame your core or your family or whatever else.” He paused. ”That’s more than most people do.”

I didn’t know what to say to that.

So I just nodded and kept watching the sunset.

By the end of the second week, my body had changed.

Not dramatically—I wasn’t suddenly buff or anything. But I could feel it. I could run longer without gasping. I could do more push-ups before my arms gave out. The mana suppressor didn’t feel as heavy as it used to, and the cold didn’t bite as deep.

I’d been cultivating too, every night before sleep. Foundation Breathing Art had become second nature now, the rhythm automatic. Inhale, pull mana from the air. Hold, let it compress. Exhale, release through my vessels.

Each night, a little more black gunk came out of my pores. Each morning, I felt a little stronger.

[Your core is stabilizing, Host. You’re getting close.]

Close to what?

[A breakthrough. Maybe. Soon.]

I nodded. He was right. I could feel it too—that pressure building in my core, that sense of being right on the edge. Soon. Real soon. All this pain was finally going to pay off.

A grin spread across my face. Heh. All this suffering is finally coming to fruition.

[What are you, a masochist?]

My smile twitched. Tch! Bastard.

The night before my last day of training with Vex, I sat in the common room with the twins.

Eira had dragged me there after dinner, insisting that I needed to ”relax” and ”stop being so serious all the time.” Roran had followed, mostly to argue with his sister about whatever game they were playing.

”Big brother Leo, watch this!” Eira shouted, holding up something she’d built with blocks. It looked like a tower, maybe, or a very confused castle.

”That’s great, Eira.”

”Roran knocked it down yesterday on purpose!”

”No, I did not!”

”Yes, you did!”

”No, I did not!”

I watched them go back and forth, their voices getting louder with each exchange. Eira’s face was turning red. Roran’s fists were clenching. Any second now, someone was going to start crying or throwing punches—probably both.

”Hey.” I held up a hand. ”Both of you. Breathe.”

They stopped. Looked at me.

”Eira, did you actually see him knock it down?”

She hesitated. ”...No. But I know it was him!”

”That’s not how proof works.” I turned to Roran. ”Did you knock it down?”

”No! I was playing somewhere else!”

I looked back at Eira. ”See? Innocent until proven guilty.”

She pouted. ”That’s not fair.”

”Life’s not fair.” I reached over and ruffled her hair. ”Build another one. If he knocks it down, I’ll deal with him.”

She brightened immediately. ”Promise?”

”Promise.”

Roran groaned. ”That’s so unfair!”

”Life’s not fair,” I said again. ”Deal with it.”

Eira stuck her tongue out at him and started building again.

I leaned back on the couch, letting their voices wash over me. It was loud, chaotic, and reminded me so much of Mia that it made my chest ache.

After they’d tired themselves out and been herded to bed by Aunt Seraphina, I pulled out my Mana-Phone.

Mia answered on the first ring.

”LEO!” Her face filled the screen, smushed against whatever device she was using. ”You didn’t call yesterday!”

”Sorry, Mia. Training was long.”

”But you’re okay?”

”Yeah, I’m okay.”

”You look different.”

I blinked. ”Different how?”

She squinted at the screen. ”I don’t know. Just... different. Stronger maybe.”

I almost laughed. ”Thanks, Mia.”

”Sir Hops-a-Lot says hi. He caught a really big bug today. Bigger than his head!”

”That’s... impressive.”

”I know! I wanted to keep it but Mama said no.”

”Probably for the best.”

We talked for a while longer—about the twins, about the snow, about how she was being ”very good” and ”definitely not causing any trouble.” I listened and nodded and smiled, and for a few minutes, the pain and exhaustion faded.

”Love you, Leo,” she said at the end, her voice sleepy.

”Love you too, Mia. Go to bed.”

”Okay. Night night.”

The call ended.

I sat there for a moment, staring at the dark screen.

Tomorrow was my last day with Vex.

Then everything would change.