Nearly a year had passed since Ash's transmigration—eleven months, to be precise—and the transformation within him was nothing short of astonishing.
At just six years old, Ash now carried himself with a quiet intensity, a shadow moving with purpose and discipline.
His body, lean and honed from months of rigorous training, defied his age, exuding strength and capability.
Where once his mana had been a frustrating trickle, it now flowed smoothly, a tool that obeyed his will with precision. Though his mana pool was small compared to the awakened, it was definitely larger than unawakend.
No one can control mana before awakening but because of mana Manipulation skill Ash can, albeit a very small amount.
Ash's transformation was more than skin-deep, though his appearance alone was enough to leave others in awe. His hair, short and black as the void, shimmered with a glossy softness, framing his face with effortless elegance.
But it was his eyes—those fiery crimson orbs—that commanded the most attention. They burned with a ferocity that seemed impossible for one so young, flecks of gold dancing within the irises, making his gaze both mesmerizing and piercing.
His fair, almost translucent skin glowed faintly in any light, and his features were delicate and doll-like—soft lips, a small straight nose, and rounded cheeks—combining to create a face that seemed to step out of a dream.
The children of the orphanage couldn't help but notice. Everywhere Ash went, whispers trailed behind him. The girls, especially, were enchanted. They giggled, cast shy glances, and dressed to impress, hoping to capture his attention.
Ash had unwittingly become the centre of their childish affections, their infatuations as fleeting as they were earnest. But while their gazes followed him with admiration.
But Ash? Ash remained indifferent to all the attention. The shy glances, giggles, and attempts to catch his eye were nothing more than fleeting distractions to him. He had no time for such trivial affections—no room in his heart for naive, transient crushes. He recognized the admiration but chose not to acknowledge it. Their emotions were like passing clouds, ephemeral and insignificant compared to the storm brewing within him.
Ash had a singular focus, a vision of something far greater than the confines of the orphanage. His life revolved around a strict regimen, a meticulously crafted schedule that allowed no room for idle chatter or youthful whims.
While others played, gossiped, or dreamed of trivial things, Ash pursued his dreams with unwavering discipline.
Each day, after school, Ash would disappear into the quiet corners of the orphanage.
These secluded spaces became his training ground, his temple of self-improvement. While the caretakers assumed he was simply a studious and reserved child, the truth was far more profound.
By the time his mana manipulation reached Level 3, Ash experienced his first major breakthrough.
It happened on a quiet evening, with only the moonlight as witness. For the first time, Ash succeeded in channelling mana throughout his body, reinforcing his physical strength. A faint, shimmering aura surrounded him, proof of his progress.
Though it lasted only a few seconds before his mana was depleted, it was a monumental achievement. It was imperfect and raw, but it marked the beginning of something extraordinary—a glimpse of the immense power lying dormant within him.
With this newfound control, Ash's training reached a new intensity. His physical strength, already impressive, became amplified by the magic coursing through his veins. Yet, even this wasn't enough to satisfy him. He was determined to strengthen both body and mind, and his next pursuit became clear: swordsmanship.
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One day, after finishing his schoolwork, he ventured into the orphanage's storage room. There, buried beneath a pile of old toys and forgotten equipment, he found a set of worn wooden swords.
These were used by the older children during their playtime, but to Ash, they were tools—tools that could be wielded with purpose.
He selected one: a heavy wooden practice blade that seemed far too large for his small frame. But Ash's resolve was unshakable.
He gripped the sword with determination, his hands steady despite the weight. His first swings were slow, awkward, as he tried to mimic the techniques he had read about in books, the stories of legendary swordsmen and heroes that had captured his imagination.
But with each swing, his movements grew more fluid, more instinctive. His body, strengthened by the mana that flowed through him, began to respond more naturally. He had gradually increased his experience points from level 1 to level 2 through months of diligent training.
Afterward, Ash created his second skill: Sword Mastery.
***
[Sword Mastery (Level 1)]
Description: Basic understanding and technique with a sword. Increases proficiency with sword-related tasks, allowing the user to move with greater precision and effectiveness. As the level of the skill increases the insight on the sword skills will also increase.
***
Even late into the night, when the orphanage had fallen into silence and the other children were lost in dreams, Ash continued. The sound of his wooden blade striking the floor became his only company, the rhythm of his training a lullaby that soothed his restless mind.
Despite the progress he had made, Ash knew that his journey was far from over. His swordsmanship and mana abilities were improving, but he needed more.
He could feel it deep inside—he needed to be ready for what was to come. His thoughts often turned to the upcoming awakening, the mysterious event that would unlock his true potential.
He had seen David's awakening—its explosive power, the way it had shattered the air around him. It was a spectacle, but also a danger. Ash understood that his own awakening would not be a simple process.
He didn't know what will be the awakening process of a unique class.
At the same time, Ash had another goal in mind: the Rune of Stability.
Ash had read about it in the novel before his transmigration—a powerful rune hidden in the depths of a lake near Silver Fall City, far from the orphanage. The journey would be perilous, but it was one Ash was willing to undertake. If he could acquire the Rune of Stability, he would have a solid foundation on which to build his future.
However, as much as he had progressed, there was one undeniable truth: staying at the orphanage was slowing down his growth. Despite the solitude he embraced for his training, the orphanage was a place where children were sheltered from the world's harshness, where the pace of life was slow and predictable.
Ash needed more than that.
He needed experience, hardship, and—most importantly—mentorship from someone who could guide him to greatness.
He had spent countless hours contemplating his next move. He had already set his sights on the Rune of Stability.
Ash was not just planning to become strong; he wanted to dominate. And to do that, he would need a mentor.
Not just any mentor—a master who had lived through the trials of life, someone who had faced war, pain, and loss, and who had the wisdom and skill to shape him into a true powerhouse. He knew exactly where to find such a person.
There was only one person who could provide that guidance: the Elven Swordsman-"Aelion Stormblade" also known as The Lightning Reaper—a master of speed who uses his swiftness not just to overwhelm their opponents, but to crush them with unrelenting power.
Once the greatest swordsman in the history of the world, this legendary warrior had retreated into self-imposed exile, far from civilization, hiding within the depths of a secluded mountain range.
The elven swordsman had been a hero in his prime—undefeated in battle, a symbol of elven pride—but the wars that had crippled his body had also cast him into obscurity. He lost his mana.
He was a man who had seen the ravages of war, who had lost everything, and who now lived in isolation. But Ash knew the truth, He lived and died for sword.
The Elven Swordsman was the key to unlocking his potential.
The Rune of Stability would provide a strong foundation for his growth, but it was the old swordsman who would truly shape him into something formidable. If Ash could convince him to take him as his disciple, it would accelerate his training beyond anything he could do alone.
Ash knew the risks. He had to journey far from the orphanage, deep into the wilderness, to find this reclusive master. And he couldn't afford to wait. His awakening was fast approaching, he was only six years old, and have 6 years before getting the admission in the academy at the same time as the protagonist—six short years—to become powerful enough to dominate his peers.
It was a dangerous, ambitious goal, but Ash was undeterred. He had no time to waste.
The only way forward was through relentless training, and he would get that training from the only person who could provide it: the old elven swordsman.
***
It was the middle of the night when Ash made his decision. The orphanage, despite its quiet corners and the relative peace it offered, had become a cage to him—a place where he could only grow so much.
If he stayed much longer, he would become stagnant. To fulfil his dreams, Ash needed to leave.
Ash packed his things in the dead of night, carefully folding the few belongings he had and tucking them into a small bag. His savings—his carefully earned money—were safely hidden in a small pouch, tucked into the inner lining of his coat.
With a quiet resolve, he slipped out of the orphanage, leaving behind the only a short note that he is leaving the orphanage.
The journey ahead would not be easy. It would be filled with dangers, both natural and manmade. But Ash was ready.
With the first light of dawn beginning to touch the horizon, Ash stood at the edge of the orphanage grounds. He looked back one last time at the small, quiet life he was leaving behind.
There was no turning back now.
Ahead lay the unknown, the wilds of the world that would test him, push him to his limits, and—if all went well—shape him into a weapon of unimaginable strength.
***