“Good job yesterday,” Khal muttered with a smile. “You might be the real fighter between us.”
The fox sneezed in response and then promptly rolled over.
Khal chuckled and opened the system.
System Log:
[Resonance Interface] Efficiency +5%.
[Trait: Heart of Becoming] Passive trait shift—now recognizes ‘Environmental Adaptation’ as a minor growth path.
He blinked. A new menu had appeared under the interface:
Minor Trait Evolution
Environmental Adaptation:
+3% Awareness in natural environments
+2% stamina regen near flora
+5% affinity with non-hostile beasts
(Based on recent behaviors and survival decisions)
“…That’s new,” Khal muttered, tapping through the info panes. “Wait, does that mean the system’s watching everything I do? Creepy.”
The fox gave him a look that practically said, You’re just now realizing that?
The next few days passed in focused training and recovery. Khal practiced shorter bursts of combat drills, learning to time system skills for synergy: sensory enhancement first, reaction speed second, followed by a finishing strike timed to the flow of wind or terrain.
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His stamina management improved. He even managed to spar against two local farmhands (who thought he looked “oddly fragile”) and won a match by using terrain advantage.
The system seemed pleased.
System Message:
[Combo Technique Unlocked] “Rhythmic Strike” — +8% to next attack if aligned with a natural cadence (wind, water, movement).
“...So now I fight to the beat of the wind? Great, I’m a fantasy bard with a sword,” Khal mumbled.
Still, it worked.
Meanwhile, the fox had become something of a local curiosity.
Kids tried to pet it. Merchants offered Khal copper coins for “such a fine creature.” One old man even tried to give it a name—Marrow.
Khal rejected that.
“We’re not naming it Marrow. He’s got his own thing going on.”
The fox barked once and wagged its tail in approval. A name would come, but not from someone with a pipe and questionable beard hygiene.
But while Khal trained and rested in the orchard’s gentle comfort, other things were moving.
Far to the north—beyond the cliffs and ridges of the Mistral Hills—a group of cloaked figures stood before a ruined altar swallowed by overgrowth. Their voices whispered ancient words into the wind, their hands glowing faintly with corrupted system runes.
“Resonance is awakening,” one murmured. “The fragments converge.”
Another, taller than the rest, tapped a glyph into the air. It shimmered red before vanishing.
“Let the boy grow. His strength will ripen the gate’s seal. Then we take him.”
They vanished into mist—footsteps leaving no trace.
Back in the orchard, Khal winced as a branch snapped underfoot during a balance drill.
“Okay, less foot, more—uh, fox-like grace,” he said aloud. “You’re setting the bar too high.”
The fox blinked slowly at him and trotted up the branch with insulting ease.
“I hate you,” Khal said cheerfully.
As the sun began to dip, a merchant caravan rumbled into view on the dirt road near the village. Colorful tents, exotic wares, and scents of spices filled the air.
Khal tilted his head. “Might be a good place to test how much I’ve actually improved…”
He sheathed his blade, brushed himself off, and headed toward the caravan—unaware that this colorful detour would soon lead him toward danger, revelations, and the first brush with forces far beyond bandits or wolves.
For now, though, he smiled.
Tomorrow would be loud.