Shit

The days blurred together in a relentless loop. Wake up. Complete his duties. Run until his body screamed for mercy. The cycle was ruthless, and Zephyr was trapped in it.

He had asked Cedric multiple times what this was all about, expecting at least a hint or some sly comment. But Cedric, usually full of smug remarks, offered nothing, like a brick wall.

"This is something you have to do on your own," Cedric had said, almost sounding... serious. "No tips. No shortcuts."

That weighed heavier on Zephyr than any physical exhaustion. But after enough days of grinding himself to the bone, the answer started to take shape in his mind.

This is the foundation, he realized. The first step to becoming a knight—breaking through my own limits.

But Gage wasn't making it easy. He had ordered that Zephyr wasn't allowed to run less than the day before.

Sigh...Why the hell did I push so hard on that first day?

The bitterness in his chest only deepened when he learned Cedric had won the bet he made on him. The smug bastard.

That self-satisfied smirk Cedric wore since the win was seared into Zephyr's mind.

Tch. Just wait, Zephyr thought darkly. I'll wipe that grin off your face one day.

But right now, he had another battle to win—against himself.

As his feet pounded the earth, Zephyr's mind worked through the puzzle.

Okay... Gage keeps pushing me to run more than the day before. Technically, I could coast by—add a few more steps each day. Play it safe. Gage wouldn't talk. But that's not the point, is it?

No.

I'm meant to find my limit—and then break it.

That became his mission. Each day, he ran until his legs felt like lead, until every breath felt like swallowing fire. By the fourth day, he hit 33 laps. His body screamed at him to stop, but he didn't.

This is mostly mental, Zephyr realizedas he pushed further each day.

By the seventh day, his body was done—43 laps. Every muscle burned. Every step felt like dragging an anvil behind him. His legs threatened to buckle with every movement.

But Gage noticed. It seemed Zephyr had actually reached the limit of his body.

"You're done with running for now," Gage said, voice even but carrying a weight behind it. "Tomorrow, your training changes. We'll start something new... and I'll lay things out clearly."

The exhaustion evaporated, replaced by a jolt of anticipation.

Finally.

The next morning, Zephyr finished his duties faster than usual, his mind sharp with focus. He approached Gage, who was waiting with arms crossed, exuding the calm of someone who knew exactly how badly this was going to hurt.

"Take a fighting stance," Gage commanded.

Zephyr didn't hesitate. His body fell into position naturally—feet shoulder-width apart, knees bent just enough for balance. One foot slid slightly back, anchoring him. His hands rose, elbows tucked in to shield his ribs. It was instinctual, a combination of vague memories from Earth and the muscle memory of this body's natural instincts.

Gage's brow twitched with a flicker of surprise. "That's solid form. You trained before?"

Zephyr smirked. "Nah. Just a natural, I guess."

The moment the words left his mouth, Gage's smile morphed into something predatory.

Shit.

Minutes later, Zephyr found himself sprawled on the ground, head spinning. His vision blurred, the sky overhead wobbling. His pride hurt worse than his body—and his body felt wrecked.

It had started fine. He wasn't foolish enough to think he could beat Gage, but he aimed to at least last long enough to make the man acknowledge him. He stayed light on his feet, maintaining good posture, carefully angling his body to block strikes.

But Gage wasn't just good—he was relentless. Even while pulling his punches, the pressure was suffocating. Every movement felt like trying to dodge a mountain falling in slow motion.

And that constant pressure was crushing. Zephyr realized too late that pure defense was a losing game—his stamina burned faster than expected. He needed an opening. Something. Anything.

Then it appeared—just a sliver. Gage left a gap near his ribs. It was bait, but desperation clawed at Zephyr's judgment.

Now!

He lunged forward, feinting first before aiming a sharp strike toward Gage's side.

I'm through—

Darkness.

His brain rattled like dice in a cup. The punch had come out of nowhere—a fist to the jaw so fast it might as well have been lightning.

When he came to, the sky greeted him like an old friend.

...Shit.

Groaning, Zephyr pushed himself upright, jaw aching but thankfully intact.

"You've got good instincts, kid," Gage's voice drifted from nearby, casual—like he hadn't just knocked Zephyr halfway into the afterlife.

Laughter erupted from a group of mercenaries nearby.

"Got him good, Gage! Heard his jaw snap shut from over here!"

"Kid's probably still figuring out what year it is!"

Zephyr grimaced and rubbed his aching jaw. How long was I out?

"Not long," Gage answered, as if reading his mind. "Just a few minutes."

Dragging himself over, Zephyr dropped onto a step beside him.

"You've fought before," Gage said, more statement than question.

"Here and there," Zephyr muttered, memories of Ra'el's street life flashing through his mind.

"You've got good posture. Solid form... but you're cocky."

Zephyr let out a weak chuckle. "Yeah... got a little carried away."

"Hmph... Well at least I've got something to work with."

A pause settled between them before Gage spoke again, voice low and serious.

"Most people think the knight's path is a fallback when you can't become a mage. But if you ask me, I think it's even harder.

We don't just use mana—we force our bodies to adapt to it. We make the world recognize that our flesh and bone deserve power."

Zephyr frowned, intrigued despite himself.

"Your will has to be unbreakable," Gage continued. "You must fully embody what you believe you are. Mages work with visualization—it's mostly mental. But knights? We need both—mind and body in perfect sync."

He looked at Zephyr pointedly. "Do you know why I made you run until you dropped?"

"To test my limits?"

"Yeah. And your will. No one forced you to keep pushing. You could've coasted, doing just enough to scrape by. But you didn't. You pushed harder. That's grit. And grit is what shapes a knight."

Gage reached into his vest and pulled out two small books. "There are five public Knight Paths available through the Mercenary Guild here in Hoshin. Each demands something different."

He handed the books over, continuing as Zephyr scanned the covers.

"Iron Juggernaut—endurance and precision.

Thunderclad Berserker—speed and fury.

Adamantine Reaver—raw power and destruction.

Apex Predator—instinct and relentless pursuit.

And...

Voidbreaker—endurance and ruthless assault."

Zephyr's mind lingered on the last two.

"If you asked me, I don't think Adamantine Reaver suits you, so you can take that out" Gage added. "But Apex Predator or Voidbreaker? You might just thrive with those.

But this is a decision you'll have to make on your own. Read the books, think it over and let me know tomorrow."

Zephyr took the books, the weight of the decision settling on him. This wasn't just another lesson or a passing challenge—this was his future.

"Thank you," Zephyr said quietly, genuine gratitude in his voice.

Gage gave a simple nod and walked off, leaving Zephyr clutching the small books. He sat there for a long moment, deep in thought.

This... This could define everything.