The dim light in the forgotten chamber flickered as Ryn slowly pulled himself to his feet. His entire body felt heavy, his vision blurred, and his mind swirled with fragments of unfamiliar memories. The weight of the grimoire's inheritance hung over him like a storm. With every step he took, the ground beneath him seemed to shift, his legs wobbling under the pressure of the overwhelming force now coursing through his veins.
He stumbled toward the doorway, his breath labored. The ancient magic of the room buzzed faintly, but as soon as he crossed the threshold, something strange happened—the chamber behind him began to fade. It melted away like a mirage, the stone walls dissolving into nothingness as though the room itself had never existed.
Ryn's hand reached for the wall to steady himself, but the dizziness only grew worse. His limbs felt like lead, his thoughts disjointed, struggling to make sense of the flood of techniques and knowledge flooding his mind. His body, too, was in turmoil—muscles contracting and stretching as if they were remolding themselves.
The cold hallway stretched before him as he made his way to his room, far in the desolate wing of the Redmond estate. The place where he had been tucked away like a forgotten relic, just as ignored as the chamber he had discovered. His vision narrowed, his strength fading as he approached the door to his room. But just before his hand could reach the handle, the world went black, and he collapsed, unconscious, onto the stone floor.
Moments later, footsteps echoed down the hall.
"Ryn?" A soft voice called out, filled with concern. It was Rosalia, his maid and the only person in the entire household who ever showed him kindness. She had always been there for him, patching him up after training, offering words of encouragement when no one else did.
Her heart skipped a beat when she saw him lying motionless outside his room. She rushed to his side, kneeling down and quickly checking for any sign of injury. Though his body seemed unharmed, his skin felt unusually warm. His face was pale, and his breath shallow, but he was alive.
"Hang on," she whispered, determination lighting her eyes.
With surprising strength, she lifted Ryn's limp body and carried him into his room, laying him gently on the bed. She brushed his sweat-soaked hair away from his forehead and covered him with a blanket, her mind racing with worry. She had never seen him like this before.
Rosalia glanced around the dimly lit room, biting her lip. Something had happened—something far beyond her understanding. But she could only wait now, hoping that whatever was happening to him, he would pull through.
---
In the depths of his unconscious mind, Ryn was no longer himself. He floated through an endless sea of memories, techniques, and experiences that were not his own. Faces flashed before him—swordsmen long forgotten, battles fought centuries ago, and abilities that defied anything he had ever known. It was as though his mind was trying to piece together a puzzle that had been shattered across time.
But even as his mind struggled to absorb the inheritance, his body was undergoing an even greater transformation. The inheritance from the grimoire had triggered something deep within him—something primal, long dormant. His muscles twitched, his bones ached, and a strange, unfamiliar warmth spread through his chest.
In this world, there existed a natural energy, a force that few could harness. Swordsmen who reached a certain level of mastery could convert this energy into aura, a physical manifestation of their strength that enhanced their bodies and allowed them to perform feats beyond the capability of ordinary humans. On the other hand, mages converted this same energy into mana, channeling it into spells to bend reality, control elements, and reshape the world.
For years, Ryn had never been able to harness this energy. His body was too weak, his skills too poor. But now, with the inheritance filling every corner of his mind and soul, something was shifting. His body, driven by the techniques he had received, began to instinctively forge an aura core—a reservoir of power that could store and channel the natural energy of the world.
The process was excruciating, though Ryn felt none of it in his unconscious state. His muscles trembled as they adapted to the sudden surge of strength. His heart pounded, pumping energy through his veins instead of blood. His body was reorganizing itself, becoming a vessel capable of wielding the immense power that had been thrust upon him.
The aura core, once a distant dream for Ryn, was now forming at the center of his being. It pulsed with raw energy, drawing from the inheritance's techniques to shape itself. His physical form began to change—muscles growing denser, bones hardening, senses sharpening. He was evolving, becoming something far more powerful than the weak boy who had been dismissed by his family.
Even his mind, overwhelmed by the flood of new knowledge, began to adapt. The techniques of the legendary swordsmen flowed seamlessly into his consciousness, each one settling into place as though they had always been a part of him. His instincts sharpened, his perception of the world around him shifting as the boundaries of his old self dissolved.
Hours passed as Ryn lay there, his body and mind reshaping themselves under the pressure of the inheritance. Rosalia, watching over him, could only sit by his bedside, anxiously waiting for any sign of improvement.
---
By the time the first rays of dawn crept through the cracks of his window, the transformation was complete. Ryn's breathing had steadied, and the tension in his body had faded. He lay still, a peaceful expression on his face. But Rosalia could sense something was different.
She leaned closer, noticing a faint glow around his chest—an aura, faint but unmistakable, radiating from deep within him.
Ryn, once the weakest of the Redmond family, had awakened his core. The inheritance had not only given him knowledge but had reshaped him entirely. He was no longer the boy who had been ridiculed and cast aside.
He had become something more. Something that would soon shake the foundations of his family and the world.