Only 10%... But 100% Stubborn

Ashen opened his eyes and clicked the second button. His fingers moved impatiently… he just wanted to get this over with and reach the juicy part.

This time, the information focused on his own breathing technique.

"Hmm, I wonder what I got..." He leaned in, reading with deep curiosity.

However, as he continued reading, his expression began to shift. First, a slight furrow of his brows. Then, a twitch of his lips. 

By the time he finished, he looked like he'd just swallowed a particularly bitter pill.

With a long sigh, he opened his eyes, turmoil evident in them.

It wasn't that the technique was bad… far from it. 

In fact, it was exceptionally well-crafted. But there were some implications…Those completely crushed whatever grand delusions he had been cooking up about his mana potential.

The technique's name was MistForge Breath. True to its name, it refined every breath of mana, making it denser while vastly improving control.

Efficiency was its core principle… wringing out every last drop of potential from the meager supply he had.

And that was precisely the problem.

The coach had specifically designed this technique for him due to his abysmal mana capacity. 

He even left a note bluntly stating that if not for Ashen's diligence in training, he would have simply given up on him.

Ashen couldn't even be mad about it as he discovered from the note that he barely had 10% of the average Esperrian trainee's mana—something about an issue in his magic circuit.

If he were in the coach's place, he wouldn't have bothered making a technique for himself either.

And as if to add insult to injury, while most techniques had five levels before mastery, his had seven thanks to its complicated patterns that would take extra effort to internalize.

'Fantastic. Just fantastic.'

Ashen exhaled sharply, shaking off his frustration. "Might as well start and see for myself what this is all about instead of just moping around…" He clicked the Start button.

The bracelet's screen lit up. Level 1.

[Starting with the first breathing pattern.]

The robotic voice barely registered before his lungs lurched into an unfamiliar rhythm. 

The sensation was immediate, jarring, and unnatural. His breath, something he had taken for granted his entire life, was now foreign.

Panic flickered through him. 

His lungs expanded and contracted in ways they never had before, like he was trying to breathe underwater. It wasn't painful, but it was deeply unsettling.

Then, something else hit him… a new awareness. The mana in the air, once distant, now pressed against him, sinking into his body with every breath. It felt heavy, like inhaling something denser than air.

Minutes passed. His chest, diaphragm, and even his limbs twitched with subtle contractions, muscles straining against the new rhythm. Not quite painful, but just came wrong.

Then it got worse. His skin prickled, his vision blurred. His body fought back, instincts screaming at him to stop. 

His breathing grew erratic and short, frantic gasps breaking the forced cadence. 

His muscles burned now, a deep, relentless ache, like he had been holding a plank for hours.

Enough.

With a desperate motion, Ashen stopped the bracelet.

"Haah… Haah… Haah…" His breaths came in ragged gulps as he struggled to calm his pounding heart.

'So this is what he meant when he said it requires mental fortitude…' He realized. 

The key wasn't just enduring the discomfort… it was accepting it. 

His body had been breathing the same way since birth. Rewiring something so deeply ingrained wouldn't happen overnight.

Of course, that didn't mean he wouldn't try.

Ashen shook his head, steeling himself once more.

'If my mental fortitude isn't great, I'll just keep trying until it is. Failure is the mother of success, after all.'

With that thought, he clicked Start again.

Unsurprisingly, within seconds, the technique's intensity overwhelmed him. 

The pain and discomfort blurred together, turning his struggle into a mental battlefield rather than a physical one.

This time, he gritted his teeth and endured, lasting a few more seconds than before.

He didn't take long to get his bearings before he restarted the device and the slow torture began anew.

Not long after, the bracelet shut off on its own, his body showing signs of seizure.

Yet, despite his twitching limbs, he managed a smug smile. He had beaten his last record by a full minute.

Again.

This time, he focused on the strange, almost euphoric sensation of mana coursing through his veins, trying to distract himself.

Again.

After several more attempts, he experimented with different postures, searching for anything to ease the agony.

Again.

Tilting his head back and gazing at the sky seemed to lighten the torment, even if only slightly. Maybe it was just his imagination.

Again.

Again.

Again.

A firm hand suddenly landed on his shoulder, and the bracelet stopped, despite him still having a few more seconds in him.

Blinking forward, he found the coach crouching in front of him, studying him with a peculiar gaze.

A mixture of disappointment and pity.

"Son, class is over. It's time to head back and rest… You must be starving, right?" The coach's voice was unusually sympathetic.

Now that he mentioned it, Ashen felt it… a gnawing hunger, far worse than what seemed reasonable for simply breathing.

"...You're right," Ashen admitted. Then, curiosity struck. "Does this have anything to do with the breathing technique, Coach?"

"Of course. Mana may accelerate your body's evolution, but proper nutrition is just as important." The coach smirked. "Now go eat a real meal, and don't forget to grab the usual drink from the stand on your way."

Ashen nodded absentmindedly, a question lingering in the back of his mind… why was the infamous coach paying him so much attention?

"...Right, I'll go."

But as he turned to leave, he noticed something strange.

The field was completely empty.

Confused, he glanced back. "Coach… where did everyone go?"

The coach's smirk widened. His voice took on an almost teasing edge.

"The class ended an hour ago, you nitwit. You're the only one still here."

Ashen blinked. "Huh?"

Giving him an exasperated look, the coach sighed. "I even had to send your two friends back since they insisted on waiting for you."

Ashen's jaw almost dropped. He had completely lost track of time.

'I need to be more aware of my surroundings.' He mentally scolded himself before giving the coach an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, Coach. It won't happen again. And… thanks for waiting for me."

The coach waved him off with a chewing gesture, as if shooing away an annoying fly. "Whatever, whatever. Just go."

"Yes, sir…"

Ashen kept his sheepish grin as he made his way out.

Just as he reached the edge of the training grounds, the coach called out one last time.

"...About that technique of yours… I might've gone a bit overboard when designing it. It's tougher than the others. So don't be discouraged if your progress is slow."

Ashen paused, a bit surprised. Though now that he thought about it, the remarks left on the bracelet already hinted at this.

"...Okay. Thanks for the heads-up, Coach."

He left without another word, unaware of the complex expression that crossed the coach's face as he watched him go.