Four days passed in a blur of repetition.
Morning classes filled with lectures on cultivation theory, afternoons spent practicing breathing techniques, and long nights alone in his room, chasing the fragile mist of spiritual energy.
Every day, Arin sat cross-legged on the hard mattress, breathing, reaching, weaving the energy bit by bit into himself.
It was slow work.
Frustrating at times.
But he never rushed. Never forced.
Now, on the morning of the fifth day, the classroom buzzed with energy — but not the kind Arin had been cultivating.
The teacher, Elder Varrin, a middle-aged man with a stern face and deep voice, stood at the front of the hall, arms folded behind his back.
"You may have heard already," Elder Varrin said, his gaze sweeping across the rows of students, "but a few among you have achieved their first breakthrough."
A ripple of whispers moved through the room.
Elder Varrin continued, "Students from Class B and Class D — three of them — have already stepped into Level 1. Exceptional talent. But do not lose heart. Everyone progresses at their own pace."
Arin sat quietly in the middle row, hands resting lightly on his knees. His face was calm, but inside, a small ember of determination burned brighter.
He wasn't jealous.
He wasn't bitter.
He simply listened and understood: his path would not be compared to others. It would be his own.
Beside him, Rian sighed heavily, slumping over his desk. "Four days, and some people already broke through? I can barely feel anything..."
Sera, sitting on the other side, tapped her fingers on her scroll thoughtfully. "They must've had some prior preparation... or maybe just better foundations."
Arin said nothing. He didn't need to.
He trusted the slow, quiet work he had done.
The rest of the class passed quickly — theory, breathing corrections, small group exercises. The names of the geniuses floated around in whispers, admired and envied.
But Arin didn't let the noise touch him.
That night, after dinner and a brief stop at the library, he returned to his room and locked the door behind him.
He sat down on the bed, steady and familiar.
The same position.
The same breathing.
He closed his eyes.
The mist of spiritual energy responded faster now, gathering at his core like a river being drawn into a well.
Hours passed, unnoticed.
And then — with a sudden, crisp snap —
something shifted.
The mist condensed, collapsing inward, forming a tiny, spinning core of energy within him.
A wave of warmth surged through his veins, filling every part of him.
His skin tingled. His bones thrummed. His senses sharpened.
Arin opened his eyes, heart pounding, breath steady.
He had broken through.
Level 1 — the true beginning of the cultivation path.
There were no fireworks, no roaring auras, no earth-shattering visions.
Just a boy sitting quietly in a dark room, feeling the world open wider around him.
A smile ghosted across Arin's lips.
This was just the first step.
But it was his.
And that made it enough.