Decision and Results

Rashan looked over his choices carefully, weighing each one.

Arcane Sensitivity? No. It was useful, but not in the way he needed right now. He had no trouble sensing magic—he could already feel something when he concentrated, the faint pull of magicka within him. His issue wasn't detecting magic; it was wielding it.

Keen Observer? Also no. Not because it wasn't valuable, but because it was redundant for him. He already had sharp instincts. He didn't feel arrogant admitting that. His reflexes, his awareness—those had been honed long before he even set foot in this world.

Before, he had been an athlete with Division 1 scholarships lined up. A full ride to the Naval Academy had been waiting for him, and there was a reason he became a Navy SEAL. His ability to analyze movement, react under pressure, and make split-second decisions had already been tested in real combat. He didn't need a perk for something that was already a strength.

That left Scholar's Comprehension.

Damn, that was a tempting one. He wouldn't lie to himself. Being able to break down magical theory at an even faster rate? To understand and apply what he learned with terrifying efficiency? That was powerful.

But at the end of the day?

He was a warrior first, a mage second. Maybe that was Adrien's influence rubbing off on him, but it wasn't wrong.

And besides… he wasn't struggling to comprehend magic.

He was learning just fine.

His knowledge wasn't his bottleneck. His physical limits were.

If he didn't end up revolutionizing magicka, so what?

One day, he was going to be Dragonborn. He wasn't going to sit in a tower like some dusty scholar, theorizing about magicka. He was going to shout the shit out of his enemies.

That left him with two final choices.

Regression Effect and Indomitable Stamina.

He exhaled, a slow, steady breath.

Now, the real question—what would they do together?

And more importantly…

What would they turn him into?

Two weeks later, Rashan was stuffing his face, an unavoidable consequence of Indomitable Stamina.

It had changed everything.

Before, he had pushed himself hard, but his body had limits. Now? Now, he could train longer, harder, and faster than ever before.

He had rewritten his schedule, fine-tuned it to take full advantage of his perks. Every single day mattered now.

• Before sunrise, conditioning and weapons training with Jalil. No more holding back—he pushed himself to the absolute limit. If he got hurt? Reload. His saved state would erase any damage.

• Breakfast, tailored by himself. He needed fuel now. High protein, balanced nutrients—his body was burning through everything at an insane rate.

• Noble studies. His parents insisted. It was a waste of time, but fighting them on it would only take up more energy. So he endured it.

• Magicka training with Teacher Adrien. Meditation, theory, application. Soon, actual spellcasting. He could feel it. He was close.

• Lunch. Even bigger than before. He had to keep up.

• Independent study. Magic, strategy, history—whatever he decided was useful.

• Second round of conditioning. This time, not just weapons. He was learning survival, horseback riding, combat movement—everything he needed to be well-rounded.

• Regression. He would overwrite his physical and mental state, go to bed to fully recover, and then wake up and do it all over again.

With Indomitable Stamina, by the time afternoon hit, he was already recovered. His body adapted faster than it should have. The exhaustion that used to weigh him down was just a minor inconvenience now.

And now, as he ate, Jalil was giving him that look.

The one that said, You know exactly why you're inhaling that food, right?

Because Indomitable Stamina wasn't magic. It didn't just make exhaustion vanish into thin air. His body still needed fuel. And fuel came from food.

And Rashan was eating twice as much as before.

Jalil raised an eyebrow as Rashan shoveled another bite into his mouth. "You sure you're not half-Ogre?"

Rashan paused just long enough to shoot him a look. They were alone, so Jalil could joke freely. No formalities. No noble airs. Just two boys who had spent the years training, fighting, and surviving together.

Still, Rashan swallowed and replied flatly. "Keep talking, and I'll make sure your training matches my intake."

Jalil grinned. "I'd die."

Rashan grinned back. "Exactly."

At night, when Jalil took it easy, Rashan went crazy hard. He trained himself until his body failed him, until he could barely stand. He knew that even if he overdid it, he'd be fine by morning. Whether it was his first run or a regression, he'd wake up refreshed, stronger, ready to push again.

It was a perfect cycle.

And he was only getting stronger.