Woon swung his sword down, again and again, the weights strapped to his wrists dragging him down like anchors. His arms burned with pain, his muscles trembling from overuse.
"Ahhh... ahhh... this is way harder than I thought it would be!"
Panting heavily, he dropped to one knee.
'My whole arm feels like it's on fire… I can't even lift it anymore…'
He gritted his teeth and looked around.
"That bastard left the second he explained everything…"
'Still, my body… it feels tougher. Stronger. Like I've gained muscle already—even though it's only been a day!'
As he caught his breath, Ron entered the room with a jug of water.
"Here," Ron said, offering the drink and sitting beside him. "You look like you're about to pass out."
"Thanks."
Woon took a sip, his hands still shaking.
Ron leaned back. "So... how'd you meet Eric?"
'What a strange question…'
"We met in the Barren Lands—where the Holy War happened."
Ron's eyes widened. "That place? Huh. That's where his friend died."
"What? Why do you ask?"
"I was just curious," Ron said. "Back then, Eric was... kind of a jerk. Always angry, disrespectful to everyone."
"But before that, he was different. He used to be the light of our group—smiling, laughing, helping others."
Ron paused, his voice growing quieter. "During the Holy War, his childhood friend sacrificed himself... to save Eric from a Corrupt Beast."
Woon blinked. 'Something like that happened to him? I had no idea…'
"After that, Eric changed. He shut everyone out. Became cold. But then he met you." Ron smiled. "Now he's starting to act like his old self again. So... thanks."
"It's nothing. He's the one who helped me—I'm just repaying the debt."
"By the way," Woon asked, "who was that childhood friend?"
Ron hesitated, then said, "He was one of the Seven Skies. The youngest ever to reach that rank."
"His name is—"
Suddenly, Woon heard a loud ringing in his ears. The name didn't reach him.
'What? I didn't catch the name... It's like something blocked it!'
"You and him... you look alike," Ron added.
"Haha, what a weird coincidence."
"Yeah, right. Now get back to training. Slacking off isn't an option!"
'I didn't even get a proper rest!'
"Yeah, yeah…"
Woon resumed his swings. His arms shook violently now, his breath shallow, but he didn't stop. Minutes turned into hours. His body screamed at him to rest, but he pushed through it, refusing to give in.
Suddenly, the door burst open.
"Hey! You're still alive?"
It was Eric.
Startled, Woon lost his balance and collapsed. Eric rushed over, catching him before he hit the ground.
"Dude, you okay?"
'He's out cold… He didn't rest at all. His body's at its limit…'
Eric noticed the sword still in Woon's grip. Its steel now had a reddish tint, and the hilt was completely destroyed.
"The sword's hot… Did he unlock his core?"
He held Woon's hand and sent mana into him. A faint light flowed through Woon's veins—but then dispersed instantly.
"There's nothing. The mana's just leaking out of him… His core's completely empty."
"Old man!" Eric called.
Ron returned quickly. "What's wrong?"
"Check his core!"
Ron placed a hand on Woon and focused. After a moment, he frowned. "It's empty… and any energy we send just disappears."
'This is the first time I've seen someone completely unable to gather mana…'
"Could divinity be stored in him?" Ron asked.
"I don't know. We'll try tomorrow. He needs rest." Eric picked Woon up. "Let's take him to the cathedral in the morning."
The Next Day
Woon slowly opened his eyes. He was in bed, confused.
"Why am I here…?"
'Did I pass out?'
The door creaked open, and Ron walked in.
"You finally woke up," Ron said, pulling up a chair. "You collapsed yesterday. There's something we need to talk about."
"What is it?"
"You… might not be able to become a mercenary."
"What?! Why not?"
"You can't gather mana. Or any form of energy. But—you can still sense them, right?"
Woon nodded. "Yeah. Even more clearly now."
"That's good," Ron said, thoughtfully. 'Did his sensitivity sharpen when he lost the ability to absorb mana?'
"There's still hope," Ron added. "Through divinity."
"Divinity?"
"It's power borrowed from the gods. There are six:
The God of Creation and Destruction
The Goddess of Darkness and Dreams
The Goddess of Light and Hope
The Goddess of Nature and Life
The God of Knowledge and Time
And the Goddess of Peace and Stability."
"So… I choose one of them?"
"No. They choose you."
'What?!'
"What if none of them do?"
"Then… it's over."
'It's a gamble.'
"Okay. So when do we start?"
"We're waiting for Eric—he booked the appointment at the cathedral."
"Right…" Woon looked down at his hands. "Hey, what happened to my sword? The handle broke."
"You mean the hilt." Ron smirked. "You were swinging it non-stop for 40 hours. Honestly, I don't know how it held together for that long."
"Wait… FORTY HOURS?!"
"Yep. Your body moved on instinct. You were swinging even after you lost consciousness. It's like your will kept pushing your muscles forward."
Woon grinned. "I'm a damn genius."
"No, you're not. Your sword form is a mess, your swings are shaky, and you've got zero talent."
"…Wow. Harsh."
"Just being real."
'So unmotivating…'
"Let's just wait for that bastard Eric," Woon muttered. "He better not be late again."