NOVEL NEXT Chapter 2: Resolve and the Discovery of New Power!
A brief flash of mana sparked faintly, just enough to be unnoticed by anyone else around. It flickered out almost instantly, leaving no trace—just a fleeting moment of power as he tried, desperately, to form his mana core. But the effort was taxing, and the flash of energy quickly subsided. He exhaled heavily, frustration gnawing at him.
"Ha! I guess it isn't that easy to forget," Noctis muttered to himself, shifting uncomfortably on the rooftop. He wasn't really angry about stealing food from an elderly seller—what frustrated him more was the need to steal at all. He'd never stooped this low before, not even in the fragments of his past life that he could still remember. But...
The night breeze swept across the desolate rooftop, carrying with it the scent of distant fires and damp stone. The cold air brushed against his skin, a sharp reminder of how fragile and exposed one was. Knees were hugged closer, the rough texture of worn clothes scratching against raw, dirt-streaked skin. The city below pulsed with life, laughter, and voices blending into an unintelligible hum that felt worlds away.
"No, I can't afford to be soft," he muttered, slapping his cheek to shake off the fog of guilt and hunger clouding his mind. The weight of the circumstances settled, heavy and unrelenting. Fists curled, nails biting into palms, as if pain could anchor the restless thoughts.
Fragments of memory rose like broken glass catching the light. Visions of war and chaos danced—shadows of battles yet to come. "The war between Dicathen and Alacrya… the Asuras... I need to survive. I need to grow stronger." Eyes glinted with the realization of the path ahead.
He bit into the stolen bread, its crust hard and unyielding. Each chew scraped against his dry throat, a bitter reminder of desperation. The taste of flour and salt lingered, sharp and unforgiving, but enough to keep hunger at bay. "I'll repay the old lady someday. When I'm stronger... when I have the means."
The emptiness in his stomach lessened, but the hunger for survival remained, gnawing at the edges of thoughts. The rough metal of the rooftop pressed into legs, grounding in the moment even as the mind raced ahead. Fingers tapped rhythmically against the knee, the faint sound echoing the turbulent thoughts. Images of warriors cloaked in power, their blades dancing with fire and lightning, flickered. "A strong body and mind... that's the foundation. But how?"
A sudden spark of recognition ignited. A memory of swirling mist and crackling thunder. His breath hitched as the pieces fell into place. "Breathing techniques? From... Demon Slayer? Could that work here?"
He rose abruptly, pacing the rooftop as adrenaline surged, pushing exhaustion aside. Boots scraped against metal, each step sharpening focus as his thoughts took shape. "Mana exists here, and aether... Humans can achieve superhuman feats. Maybe, just maybe…"
Excitement crackled through the air, a flicker of hope defying the despair that clung to him. He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms as his resolve solidified. "Thunder breathing, flame breathing... They could be optimal. But which one?"
The stars blurred as exhaustion crept back in, limbs protesting against the strain of the day. He exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples as fatigue dragged at him. "I'll figure it out... tomorrow. For now, I need rest."
He eased himself down, his arm serving as a makeshift pillow. The rooftop was hard and unwelcoming, but better than the streets below. His eyelids fluttered shut, but his mind remained restless. Lightning flashed, flames roared—visions of power battling shadows in his dreams. "Thunder... or flame... which path will lead me to power?"