Unseen growth

Victor's eyes fluttered open, a sharp jolt of panic coursing through him as he glanced at the streaks of sunlight spilling through his bedroom window. His body protested as he sat up, his muscles screaming in dull pain from the grueling training the night before. Every joint felt stiff, every movement a challenge, but there was no time to linger on the discomfort.

Then it hit him.

The alarm clock on his bedside table was silent. His heart sank as his gaze darted to the time on the wall-mounted clock. 7:45 a.m.

"Oh no."

School is going to start in 15 minutes and the way there is half an hour.

His heart sank as he scrambled out of bed, the heavy feeling in his limbs reminding him of the Titan Steps. It wasn't just physical strain. The technique had begun to change his body in ways he could barely comprehend, leaving him feeling both stronger and more burdened by the effort. It was as if each step he took toward improvement also took him a step closer to some unknown cost.

Without a second thought, he threw on his uniform. His hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, his mind racing with excuses he might use to explain his tardiness. As he grabbed his bag, the edges of the ledger peeked out, a silent reminder of the secrets he now carried.

"I can't be late again," he muttered, bolting out of his small apartment and onto the street.

The city was alive with its usual chaos: vendors shouting over each other in the market, cars honking in the narrow streets, and the occasional drone humming overhead. Victor weaved through the crowd, his legs moving faster than he'd expected. Each step felt oddly light, his body responding with an agility he hadn't noticed before. His mind tried to process it, but there was no time.

The road to the academy was always busy, but today, it felt like a race against time. His breath came in shallow bursts, and his pulse quickened as he rounded a corner and almost collided with a street vendor carrying crates stacked high with vegetables. "Sorry!" Victor called, barely dodging the collision.

No time to apologize properly. His destination was clear: the academy. He had to make it. He had to. The gates loomed ahead, already open, and students were filing in—some laughing, some chatting, others halfheartedly sprinting to get to class.

Victor's chest tightened. He was late—again.

Victor entered the classroom, breathless and disheveled. His teacher, Mr. Calden, fixed him with an unimpressed glare.

Mr. Calden, a stern man with a hawk-like gaze, stopped mid-sentence and fixed Victor with a disapproving glare.

"You're late, Mr. Crow," Mr. Calden said, his voice sharp, almost cold.

"I… overslept," Victor stammered, sliding into his seat at the back of the room.

The other students snickered, their whispers filling the air like static. Victor ignored them, focusing instead on catching his breath. His muscles still felt heavy, but there was an underlying energy he couldn't ignore, a vitality that hadn't been there before.

"Enough," Mr. Calden barked, silencing the class. "We're moving on to stat checks. Line up. Let's see if any of you have made meaningful progress—or if you're all just slacking off."

Victor groaned inwardly. Stat checks were a routine at the academy, a way to track each student's progress in strength, agility, vitality, and reflexes. It was also a source of constant humiliation for him, as his scores were often among the lowest in the class.

One by one, students stepped up to the scanner at the front of the room. Their scores appeared on a large screen behind Mr. Calden, cheers or groans sounded depending on the results.

"Darrow, Adrian. Strength: 1.4, Reflex: 1.1. Vitality: 1.3," Mr. Calden read aloud, nodding approvingly.

The class clapped politely as Adrian Darrow, the pride of the elite class, stepped away from the scanner with a smirk. He was always the one to beat—everyone knew it.

"Next," Mr. Calden called, scanning the room. His eyes landed on Victor. "Mr. Crow. Let's see if you've made any progress—or if you're still wasting everyone's time."

Victor shuffled forward reluctantly when his name was called. He stepped onto the scanner, feeling the familiar tingle as it analyzed him. He braced himself for the numbers, already expecting the same old mediocrity.

He hesitated for just a second before slowly getting up from his seat, his feet heavy. The path to the scanner felt longer than it had ever been. He stood before the machine, feeling a familiar tingle as it scanned his body, analyzing his every measurement.

The screen blinked, and his stats appeared in bold letters:

Strength: 1.1

Reflex: 1.05

Vitality: 0.98

A collective gasp rippled through the room. Victor stared at the screen, his mouth dry.

Victor blinked, his mind struggling to process what he was seeing. He had passed the 1-point mark, and two of his stats were above average when comparing the results of the last stat check. His heart raced.

"What?" Mr. Calden's voice cut through the silence. He leaned closer to the screen, his brow furrowed. "This must be a mistake."

The students erupted into murmurs, their voices a mix of disbelief and suspicion.

"No way," one whispered. "He had an average stat count of 0.8 last week."

"Did he use enhancers?" another speculated.

"Or maybe he got sponsored," someone else chimed in. "A group or family backing him?"

Victor's cheeks burned as the rumors flew. He hadn't expected this. The Titan Steps had changed his body, but he hadn't realized just how significant the improvement was until now. The sudden boost felt like both a triumph and a burden.

"Silence!" Mr. Calden barked, his voice silencing the chatter. He turned to Victor, his eyes narrowing. "Victor, care to explain this sudden improvement?"

Victor hesitated. What could he say? That he'd discovered a secret combat technique in an old ledger? That he'd stolen the technique from one of the estates of the Darrow family? He couldn't risk drawing suspicion to himself—especially not with the way his peers were already looking at him.

"I… just trained harder," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

Mr. Calden's eyes bored into him, searching for any sign of deceit. After a tense moment, he sighed. "Very well. Take your seat."

Victor nodded, retreating to the back of the room as the whispers resumed. He could feel the eyes of his classmates on him, their curiosity and suspicion like a weight pressing down on him. The room felt hot, the air thick with anticipation.

Victor slumped in his chair, his mind racing. The Titan Steps were working, but at what cost? His stats were improving faster than he could have imagined, but the scrutiny was growing with every passing moment. He clenched his fists, the faint ache in his muscles a reminder of the price he was paying.

For now, he would keep his head down. Let them think what they wanted. He couldn't afford to draw more attention to himself—not until he was twice as strong as them, not until he could stand at the top. His eyes flicked to the front of the room, where Adrian Darrow still stood, a smug look on his face. That face—the one that had always looked down on him—would be his target one day. He would surpass them all.

But for now, the whispers were all he needed. For the first time, his classmates saw something they hadn't seen before—a commoner that was equal to them and the potential to surpass even Adrian that hadn't been there just weeks ago. And with that, a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, replaced by something else. Something that made it clear that, no matter how hard the journey ahead might be, he was no longer the old him, a commoner with no resources or background.

The realization hit him hard. But with it, a new sense of uncertainty began to grow. The Titan Steps had taken him farther than he ever thought possible—but at what cost?

Victor's fists clenched involuntarily as the murmurs around him grew louder, his classmates' voices thick with suspicion and envy. The glances—they were always there, always judging. He was no longer invisible, and it stung. Adrian Darrow's smug face remained firmly at the front, his position unchallenged, as always. That face—the one that had always looked down on him—had been a target for as long as he could remember.

He could feel it now, that simmering rage. The Titan Steps had made him stronger, but they had also made him want more. Not just mastery of the steps, but mastery over the world that had never given him a second glance. The whispers didn't just annoy him now—they ignited something darker, a deep-seated hunger for power and respect.

The numbers on the screen had confirmed something he had only hoped for: he was improving. His strength, reflexes, and vitality were climbing—slowly, but steadily. And yet, there was a gnawing unease in the pit of his stomach. It wasn't enough. He wasn't there yet. Not even close.

He glanced at the ledger tucked carefully into his bag, the weight of it suddenly feeling heavier than before. Each page, each cryptic note it contained, held a promise—a promise of something more. A way to push his body beyond its limits without risking the breakdown he could feel lurking just beneath the surface. That was the goal. The mastery. The point where there were no side effects. Where the Titan Steps didn't leave him aching, didn't leave him fighting to keep his muscles from locking up or his mind from faltering.

Victor's eyes narrowed as he thought of the progress he'd made. Twenty-five percent. That's where he was. The techniques were working. His body was improving, but not yet in the way he wanted. Not yet in the way that would allow him to control it fully. He was slowly becoming more angry at people.

He had to keep pushing. No matter the cost.

The whispers around him faded into the background as his mind raced. The next step, he knew, would push him even further. He had to reach the next level. If he could just perfect the techniques, hone them completely, then the strain—the physical and mental toll—would disappear. At least, that's what the notes of the seniors who had practices the technique in the ledger promised.

Victor couldn't stop now. He couldn't let himself be satisfied with this progress. Not yet. His muscles burned with the memory of the Titan Steps, but the discomfort didn't scare him anymore. He had to break through to the next level. To reach 50%… then 75%. The hundred percent mastery—that was his true goal.

His eyes flicked to the clock. Class was nearly over. But his mind wasn't on school, wasn't on anything other than the ache that lingered in his body.

Victor had come too far to stop now. Whatever it took, whatever sacrifice he had to make, he was going to reach it. He would push himself until his body could handle the power of the Titan Steps without breaking. Until he could master it completely.

And then, and only then, would attain the power he needed and very much wanted.