Chapter 2: The First Breaker

The world had long since fallen into silence. The resonance that once bound all things together had faded into obscurity, buried beneath time and the ambitions of men. Generations passed, and with them, the memory of the First Echo eroded into myth. Strength was no longer a given—it was something to be earned, to be fought for, to be stolen. The world no longer moved in harmony; it groaned under the weight of greed and conflict.

And yet, deep within the heart of a fractured land, a man listened.

His name was Auron, and he was no hero. He did not stand above others by birthright or talent. He was neither noble nor destined. He was a man who simply refused to accept the silence.

Auron had no grand ambition. He did not hunger for conquest or power. He did not seek to change the world or leave behind a legacy. He simply wanted to understand. To know what had been lost.

For years, he traveled, searching for remnants of the old world. He wandered through ruins where forgotten knowledge lay crumbling. He spoke to the oldest men and women, those who remembered vague whispers of a time before. He studied the bodies of warriors who had surpassed their limits, those who had reached beyond human capability and either thrived or perished.

And slowly, piece by piece, he unraveled the truth.

The First Echo had never truly vanished. It had not been destroyed—only lost, drowned beneath the weight of ignorance and corruption. The strength of the old world had never been a gift from the gods, nor a power bestowed upon the chosen. It had always been something within—an innate force lying dormant in every living being.

The power of oneself.

Not magic. Not an external force. But the raw, undeniable control over one's own existence. The ability to mold the body beyond its natural limitations, to command breath, movement, endurance—not through divine favor, but through sheer will.

It was there, waiting to be reclaimed.

And so, Auron became the first to break through the silence.

He did not stumble upon his strength by accident. He did not awaken it in a moment of desperation. He built it, piece by piece, through unrelenting discipline, through failures that shattered him and recoveries that shaped him. He learned to slow his heartbeat at will, to command his muscles beyond exhaustion, to push past pain that would cripple a lesser man.

And when he reached the threshold of human capability, he pushed further.

There was no prophecy guiding him. No mentor to show him the way. Only his own body—his own unyielding mind.

And when he finally broke through, he was no longer just a man. He was the First Breaker—the first to reclaim the power of oneself since the fall of the First Echo.

But he was not alone.

Among those who followed him, one stood by his side—Saevin, the Archivist. A scholar, a man of logic and precision. While Auron forged the path with his body, Saevin preserved it with his mind.

It was he who recorded every method, every principle, every truth that Auron uncovered. It was he who wrote the Book of Oneself, ensuring that the knowledge would not be lost again.

And yet, knowledge alone was not enough to preserve it.

The world was still ruled by greed. Those who sought power without understanding would twist the teachings, corrupt them into tools for dominance. The Book of Oneself could not simply be written—it had to endure.

And so, Auron and Saevin made a choice.

The Book was sealed—not with magic, not with any trickery, but with Auron's very being. His blood, the essence of a man who had reached the peak of human potential, was used to crystallize the pages, preserving them beyond time and decay. The words would remain, untouched by the passing years, waiting for those who were truly ready to claim them.

The Book of Oneself was hidden, its knowledge locked away.

And so, the First Breaker passed into legend. Some worshipped him. Some feared him. Others sought to find his secrets, to claim them for themselves. But few understood the truth—that the power of oneself was not something to be taken. It was something to be earned.

Years became decades. Decades became centuries.

The Book remained, waiting.

And though the world had once again begun to forget…

One day, someone would break through once more.