The next month of mine was spent vigorously training.
Alongside awakening my core and feeling it's strength invigorate my body, there were other subtle changes.
Not only did I feel stronger, but my instincts were shaper. My movements faster.
Training with my sword under these new circumstances was important, as it helped me get used to the change.
I felt like an entirely new man.
But what I truly spent most of my time doing, was learning my first manifestation.
"A-are you close to analysing it, Vale?" My Father said, hands on his knees and out of breath. His sword was stabbed into the grass beside him.
As I stood nearby, with my sword still sheathed, I kept my eyes diligently trained on him.
"Almost... I can feel it. Please, Father, show me one more time!"
Letting out a great sigh, my father rose and pulled his sword from the dirt. Then, he widened his stance for the twentieth time that morning.
He was in his forties, which wasn't far past a man's prime, but the life of a noble had caused him to grow weak.
It was why this process had taken so long, but I still appreciated him dearly.
The next moves of my father were filled with grace. He stepped forward, his sword drawn and ready to strike.
Then, with great force, he swung it.
The blow carried all his might, which wasn't much, but it wasn't the strength of the attack that I was focused on.
It was what came afterwards.
As my Father delivered his downwards strike, cutting through the air, another strike followed behind it.
But it wasn't that my father had struck twice.
It was his manifestation.
An afterimage that mimicked one's attack directly after performing it, turning one strike into two.
It was the only manifestation that my father had learned, and so I had spent much of my time trying to analyse it from him.
Analysing was easy. It was the same as analysing any natural movement.
The more one watched, the more they began to understand.
Every time I saw the manifestation, it felt like a blank spot in my mind was slowly being filled. It was like more and more information about the technique was filling my mind.
And after that last swing, it finally clicked.
The pieces fell into place.
I felt it. That strange moment of clarity where instinct aligned with intention.
My body knew what to do. The strike that my father performed was no longer just something that i observed.
It had become something I could do. Something I understood.
After going over the information that flooded my mind, I couldn't help but feel elated.
I had finally learned my first manifestation and it was still a week before I turned sixteen!
My Father, out of breath and worn out, looked over to me, sweat beaded from his head.
"D-did it work?" He asked a glint of hope in his golden eyes.
But rather than answering him with words, I unsheathed my own sword.
Manifesting blight was easy for me. It felt like second nature.
First, I focused on the blight that rested in my core. My reserve was full, as I had yet to use any since my awakening a month ago.
Then, as I swung my sword, I willed my blight into existence, according to the manifestation that I had learned. I felt my core release the necessary amount of blight needed to perform the technique.
I swung my sword, and the afterimage came afterwards, causing my strike to be performed twice.
After performing the technique, I stood there, checking my blight reserve.
It felt like roughly one-eighth of the blight in my core had been used to manifest the technique.
At that moment, I also noticed then that there were many ways for someone to restore their blight.
The rate at which it recovered was dependent on many factors, which made it difficult to create a precise calculation.
It was similar to energy. Resting would hasten recovery, as would eating, sleeping, meditating, and other similar methods. Some people would naturally recover faster.
"Incredible..." My father said, sticking his sword into the dirt and again and resting against its hilt as he wiped the sweat from his head. "I'm sorry I can't be of more use to you son. If I knew more techniques, you could get stronger much faster."
I shook my head and waved a hand, suggesting that he was talking nonsense.
"Don't be silly Father. Every day, you have come out here to teach me this skill. You've been more helpful than you could imagine."
He looked at me with a smile on his father before letting out a satisfied smile. "I'm... glad."
Training aside, things had been awkward between me and my parents. It was as though there was a strange tension looming between us.
And I knew why.
Next week would be my sixteenth birthday. The day the knights of King Sky would come knocking on our door to inspect the awakening that I had already had.
But their visit wouldn't end there.
Every day, the Zalethi Kingdom were being beaten backwards by the Ordenian Empire. Across the many different battlefields of Aloth, our forces clashed, both trying to get the best of each other.
And to create the best circumstances for our people, King Sky had created a system.
A way to ensure that the Zalethi had the strongest forces that they could possibly gather.
...
A way to ensure that the young nobles of the kingdom tapped into their true potential as awakened.
King Sky founded the Hades Project. The most infamous and controversial project of the land.
And soon, I would be embarking on its journey.