I couldn’t tell if I was unaccustomed to piloting Cael’s body or if I was just unaccustomed to exercise.

  Might’ve been both. Possibly the injuries too.

  Either way, five push ups at a time was all I was managing before my face hit the dirt. God, this hurt.

  Thankfully, no one seemed to hear me when I cried out in pain, hoping it’d take some of the pressure off of my throbbing ribs.

  Cael had used this building on the far side of the guild as a training area for months now, he frequented it because it was old and dilapidated and no one ever used it.

  He’d preferred solitude while he trained, and this was one of the few places in the guild armed with both training equipment and relative privacy. The guild wasn’t exclusively a magic academy, after all, there were plenty of martial Ascendants too. There were many training rooms, but most favoured the newer and more central ones.

  Worked fine by me. I didn’t know much about Damian’s day to day habits, but I at least knew he trained in the main halls of the outer guild alongside the other initiates, and almost no one trained at night so I figured the chances of me being found or disturbed here were close to zero.

  Which… was good, as long as I could make it back to the hospital again in one piece before the sun came up.

  I tried another set of push ups, but this time gave up after three. Well, two and a half, but whatever.

  My back really couldn’t take the strain right now. I was trying my best to use this opportunity to stretch and grow accustomed to each part of my new body, to feel how each of my muscles moved and responded to my input, but I probably needed to avoid injuring my back further.

  Being even early in Tier 1 bolstered my body’s recovery and resilience, I knew, but I also was sure I had at least a couple of busted ribs, plus tons of nasty bruising, and that was without considering anything internal.

  I had a basic understanding of the tiers from Cael’s memories. From what I understood, most people were Unawakened, and the small portion of people in the world who’d undergone an Awakening were much stronger. Many devoted themselves to magic, scholarship, and crafts, while some favoured weapons and martial combat.

  The Soulgrave family used both might and magic, and despite Cael’s relative shittiness as a mage compared to most of his family, he was pretty good with a sword.

  I tried casting a simple light spell, attempting to stress test my apparently blocked channels, but the mana in my body didn’t feel willing to move for me at all. It completely ignored my command.

  I pushed harder, and something in my hand sizzled. It didn't produce light, only hurt like a bitch until I released the pressure.

  I didn’t understand it. I know the system had said something about ‘acclimating’ and that doctor had said I had blocked channels, but I didn’t know what to do about it. It sounded like between Cael's abuse of his body with elixirs, my injuries, and my status as a new transmigrator, there were three potential things inhibiting my casting right now, and I needed to narrow that list down if I wanted to do something about it.

  I tried to look within myself and see if I could feel anything, but no dice. My mana felt completely inert and inaccessible to me.

  Made sense. It wasn't something I'd ever tried doing before. There was probably some trick to accessing it that I didn't quite understand yet.

  So I thought about how I could get my energy going and how I could acclimate to this body. Maybe my mana would respond to me if I was more attuned to my new vessel.

  I decided to switch to a weapon drill, grabbing what I immediately knew to be a wooden jian from a weapon rack in the far corner and attempting to take a stance with it.

  The wood on the weapon was slightly warped from age, and it felt strange in my hand, though my body tried to tell me it was natural.

  Cael had been wielding a sword since he was five, and the feel of the weapon in his palm was almost second-nature to him, but to me, it was still completely alien. I’d never held a sword before. No amount of inherited memory displaced the strange tingle I felt run across my arm as I tried to bend and twist myself into formations that were both unnatural to me and completely natural all at the same time.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  It was like sleepwalking, almost, a feeling of dissociation that mixed with the sensation of performing a choreographed dance. There were times when I slipped into a ‘familiar’ drill easily.

  Step, thrust, pivot, block.

  Arch, turn, parry, thrust.

  There were other times when the only rhythm I managed was more akin to:

  Fuck. Shit. Whoops. Ouch.

  It was something I definitely needed to get more of a feel for. Beyond that, there was the rhythm of my body itself.

  I could feel something flowing within me. I couldn’t quite grasp it and take hold of it, or do anything beyond vaguely recognise it, but I knew it was there, and I could feel it very slowly swirling as I practiced. There were times in which it felt like it flowed in time with my movements, times that my entire body felt synchronised and in perfect tempo.

  Then others when the flow seemed to work against me, try to grind me to a halt. Those were the ‘fuck, shit’ moments, and they were becoming more frequent, rather than less, the more that I attempted to practice on my lonesome.

  That didn’t stop me from persisting. This hurt my back way less than push ups, and I wasn’t keen on jogging around the room again, either. Anything anaerobic sounded like a horrible idea, and at the very least, this was at least giving me a touch more familiarity with my new body.

  I was gonna need that familiarity and far more of it if I was going to be able to fight. There was no way I would’ve been able to just wait in bed until I was recovered, then face the music as unprepared as I was now. It was simply impossible.

  Still, I might’ve overdone myself already. There was a brief period in which my body felt so activated that I almost was able to ignore my pain, but whatever adrenaline had taken place was quickly beginning to wear off—as fresh endorphins hit my body, I felt a heavy wave of fatigue.

  I needed to walk back to the hospital soon. It was that or rest here for a while first to try and get my strength back, but if I fell asleep out here, then I was fucked. Walking back this injured in daylight was most likely a death sentence.

  Ugh… why couldn’t there be a master or something I could report this guy to?! ‘Please help, my classmate is trying to kill me’. Guess what, in a normal school, someone would probably pay attention to that!

  It’s not that it was actually condoned to kill other guildmates without a challenge being accepted, from what I understood. Hell, Damian was barely on the cusp of being able to challenge me, according to guild rules, due to the difference in our ranks.

  But those rules were bent in matters concerning heavy dishonours, especially when powerful families like the Voss clan were involved.

  And if I were to refuse Damian’s next challenge, chances are it’d just make me look even weaker than I already did. To appear scared before the entire guild like that would make me an even bigger target than I already was, and the moment I was off protected ground or some elder chose to turn a blind eye, I’d have a sword stuck in my back or a fireball thrown in my face.

  It wasn’t like I could just write to Cael’s family either. The Soulgrave family were powerful and respected enough that it’d probably prevent me being killed in broad daylight, but they were mainly based half a country away, and by the time some uncle or cousin showed up to mediate or champion or even avenge me, it’d be far too late for that.

  Maybe I could broker a deal with him… I could offer money. I’m sure Cael’s family would pay.

  …would they?

  Paying Damian off for something like this would be a stain against their name. Even if they agreed, it’d likely burn bridges for me, and I’d still look just as weak and exploitable.

  Ugh…

  My legs hurt. Thinking about all of this was starting to give me a headache, too.

  I decided to sit down. Leaned up against a wall.

  The night air was fairly warm. Maybe I could just take a small rest here and—

  “Hello, stranger.”

  My ears pricked at the sound.

  I knew it.

  Cael knew it.

  “I was wondering if I might find you here.”

  I’d barely looked up when I felt a pair of fingers brushing against my cheek, smelled a scent of wild berries and jupiter. Also familiar to my previous inhabitant.

  I looked up, slightly stunned, to find Amara Regis looking back at me.

  Damian’s bride to be. I couldn’t tell if she looked amused or concerned.

  I jolted in place, suddenly fully awake. Somehow, in all of this, I hadn’t really considered her, or rather, considered just why it was that Cael Soulgrave preferred to train in solitude and away from prying eyes.

  It was because this was where he’d go to meet Amara, obviously.

  I squinted at her in the light. It was my first time truly seeing her.

  She had a nasty yellow bruise forming on her cheek.

  “Looks like I got off more lightly than you,” she laughed.