Novice

The days that followed were peaceful yet fulfilling.

He attended classes during the day, received tutoring over lunch, and did specialized exercises with Mr. Holland, who had returned from his business trip, in the afternoon.

What had originally been weekly tutoring had become a daily routine.

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At night, he returned home and used the memory boost brought by [Scholarship] to broaden his knowledge. Before bed, he spent another fifteen minutes practicing the Breathing Technique.

His progress with the Breathing Technique was fairly good. After each night's practice, the warmth deep in his chest lingered for a few breaths longer than it had the day before.

At first, it had only appeared briefly during the breath-holding phase. Later, it extended into the first two beats of exhalation, then the first three.

The trend was clear. The warmth was taking root bit by bit.

On Saturday night, the whole family had gone to sleep.

The grandfather clock in the living room downstairs struck eleven, its chimes passing through the floorboards.

Richard sat cross-legged on his bed. The curtains were drawn tightly, the desk lamp was off, and the room was lit only by a sliver of moonlight filtering through the gap in the window.

Quadruple Breathing entered its fourth complete cycle.

Inhale, one, two, three, four.

Air flowed deep into his lungs through airways optimized by the [Breathing] skill. There was little resistance, and his breath went deep and steady.

Hold, one, two, three, four.

His attention sank behind his sternum and anchored itself on the Seat of the Sun.

Warmth spread from that spot, its boundaries distinct.

He could already make out the "shape" of the warmth. It was roughly the size of a copper button, flat and round against the inner wall of his sternum.

Exhale, one, two, three, four.

His breath flowed out at a steady pace, passing through his throat and leaving through his nose.

The warmth did not fade. He waited.

During the second breath hold, four beats passed, and the warmth was still there.

The fifth cycle, the sixth cycle, all the way to the tenth.

After completing the full fifteen-minute session, the copper-button-sized warmth in his chest had not dissipated from beginning to end.

It brightened slightly when he inhaled and dimmed when he exhaled, but it remained there throughout.

He focused all his attention on that spot and felt it carefully.

Beyond the warmth, there was now an exceedingly faint sense of weight.

There was something in the center of his chest. It could not be seen or touched, but it undeniably had mass.

As his breathing made his ribcage rise and fall, that thing swayed ever so slightly with it, perfectly in sync with his breathing rhythm.

This should be the Aether Micro-circulation mentioned in the book.

The panel flickered:

[Breathing] Lv. 2 EXP: 200/500 (First Milestone reached)

The panel had marked this as a stage-based checkpoint, distinguishing it from ordinary experience accumulation.

Richard sat on the bed for a long time. Rather than rushing to test anything, he carefully committed the sensation to memory first.

There had been no great commotion when the Aether Micro-circulation took shape. There was no light or flow of heat like he might have imagined.

The loose sand within his body had been gathered by an unseen hand, squeezed into a ball, and made compact.

He knew something was there, but he did not yet know what it could be used for.

The book's description was too vague. Appendix C had only one sentence describing Novices:

"Those who have preliminarily established a complete Aether Micro-circulation within their bodies."

The definition did not say what it could do.

He first tried clenching his fist.

His fingers responded faster, no longer carrying that sluggish, sticky delay they once had.

The book had mentioned that Aether circulating through the body optimized neural transmission. That was the most basic benefit.

Next, he tried splitting his attention from his chest and guiding it down his right arm.

While translating the hidden-text passage in that Flora Records, he had read:

"Once Aether forms a cycle, it may be diverted and guided, like water channeled through irrigation ditches. Wherever it reaches, it nourishes."

He had merely memorized it as background knowledge at the time. Now that he had the foundation, he could give it a try.

He guided his consciousness from the Seat of the Sun toward his right arm, as though holding the mouth of an extremely thin hose and slowly tilting it toward his arm.

The force of his clenched fist was noticeably different.

His muscle mass had not increased out of thin air, but both the speed and precision of contraction had improved in tandem.

He withdrew the Aether from his right arm and tried guiding it into both legs.

The warmth appeared more slowly in his legs, perhaps because they were farther from the Seat of the Sun.

But it still reached them. The sense of strength in his calves and knees became clear and solid.

After trying it out, Richard had gained a certain understanding of his condition after forming the cycle:

"First Milestone effect: Aether Micro-circulation formed, allowing diverted flow to strengthen specific areas.

The enhancement specializes in coordination, precision, and reaction speed.

To rapidly improve muscle strength and Physique, I may need to practice the Blood-Burning Path. (Uncertain.)"

After thinking for a moment, he added several more notes:

"Currently, the benefits of Aether dispersing throughout the body are passive;

Focused enhancement after local mobilization is active; the two can be switched flexibly.

Aether reserves are limited. Extended localized enhancement causes fatigue. Further observation required."

After organizing his current condition, Richard fell back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling.

The threshold of the Aether Micro-circulation was probably the difference between being unarmed and holding a weapon.

Even without using that "Mist Wall Spell," merely strengthening his body with Aether meant that three to five ordinary adults could not get close to him.

He pulled the blanket up to his chin and closed his eyes.

After Breathing Technique practice, his body entered a relaxed state. Combined with the continual improvement in oxygen efficiency, his sleep quality was far better than it had been a month ago.

A few breaths after closing his eyes, he fell into a deep sleep.

At dawn, while the sky was still dim, Richard had already opened his eyes.

After breaking through in the Breathing Technique, his energy recovered especially quickly. After six hours of sleep, he truly could not stay in bed any longer.

There was no sound downstairs. His father was not up yet, while his mother's faint, heavily suppressed coughing drifted from the master bedroom.

This coughing had come and gone for several days now.

Every year after autumn began, his mother's old illness would flare up once.

Chest tightness, shortness of breath, waking in the night coughing—when it was severe, she had to stay in bed during the day as well.

The community doctor had visited and said it was the same old problem, prescribing an unbearably bitter herbal paste.

Whether the medicine worked was hard to say, but every month there were always ten days or half a month when his mother could not manage the housework.

At times like that, Evelyn naturally took over everything.

No one had assigned her the role, and no one had explicitly said, "When Mom isn't feeling well, you take care of the house."

The girl had started doing it when she was twelve or thirteen. She kept doing it until it simply became the default.

She got up at six-thirty in the morning, cleared the ashes from the fireplace, then added coal and built up the fire.

Then she went to the kitchen to boil water, slice bread, and fry eggs.

After their father finished breakfast and left for work, she still had to clear the dishes, wash them, and wipe the dining table clean.

If their mother was especially unwell that day, Evelyn would also prepare a sandwich in advance for their father to take for lunch.

Their father worked as a structural engineer at a manufacturing plant in Briston's North District.

The title sounded respectable enough, but his work consisted of spending all day in the factory drawing blueprints, overseeing assembly, and troubleshooting stress issues.

The Factory was loud, dusty, and poorly ventilated. By the end of the day, he would be covered in black grime.

He was taciturn at home, and it was not entirely because of his personality.

After standing in a deafening workshop from morning to night, he truly had no energy left to maintain verbal warmth after returning home.

Speaking meant responding, responding required extra effort, and all his energy had already been spent on supporting the family.

Evelyn often muttered, "This family couldn't survive without me," but her hands never stopped working.

But that morning, Richard woke earlier than his sister and worked more efficiently too.

By the time the girl came downstairs rubbing her eyes, she could already smell toast and black tea.

The fireplace burned warmly, every plate and utensil had been set on the table, and there was even a clean butter knife beside the butter dish.

Evelyn stood at the foot of the stairs with her mouth half-open. "...When did you get up?"

"Six." Richard carried the plate of eggs to the table.

"You lit the fireplace?"

"Yeah."

"You washed the dishes?"

"Yeah."

"You toasted the bread too?"

"Yeah."

Evelyn pulled out a chair, sat down, and picked up a slice of toast to inspect it.

Both sides were evenly golden, with beautifully crisp edges. It looked better than the toast she made herself.

"...You always used to burn the bread."

"I've been practicing lately."

"You practiced and got this good?"

"Forget that for now. Is it good?" Richard sat across from her.

"...It's average."

"You're chewing pretty fast."

"I'm hungry."

"Oh."

By then, his mother had heard the commotion and come downstairs. "Richard made this?"

"Yeah. Mom, get some proper rest."

Margaret said nothing more. Seeing the breakfast already laid out on the table, she felt as if half her illness had vanished at once.