Izuku stood there, his body trembling, his breath ragged, but he did not fall. Every fiber of his being screamed in agony, his muscles begging for relief. The strike to his ribs had nearly knocked him out cold, yet he endured. Even with his pain sensitivity curse amplifying every ache and bruise, he remained standing.
The knights exchanged glances. They had expected the boy to collapse, to surrender to the overwhelming pain. Even though they had held back, they knew their strikes were no joke. Yet here he was—refusing to crumble.
Varyn watched him carefully, his golden eyes gleaming with intrigue.
"Not bad," he mused. "You've lasted longer than I expected. But you should know, they were holding back. If this had been a real fight, you'd be dead."
Izuku clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palm. He already knew that. He had felt it in their movements, their hesitations. They weren't fighting to kill.
That meant he wasn't strong enough yet.
Still, he gave a slight bow of respect, not allowing himself to show weakness in front of them.
"I appreciate the lesson," Izuku managed to say between pained breaths.
Varyn smirked and turned to the knights. "He's done for the day. Dismissed."
The knights nodded, offering one last glance at the boy before retreating back to their training. Izuku gave one final nod before leaving the underground chamber, moving toward his room with unsteady steps.
The Curse of Weakness
The moment Izuku entered his quarters, he collapsed onto his bed. Sweat drenched his clothes, his body ached in ways he couldn't describe, and his ribs throbbed from the direct impact of the knight's blade.
His pain resistance had increased to 9.05%, but it still wasn't enough. The curse was relentless, keeping his growth shackled. No matter how hard he trained, how much he endured, he was always at a disadvantage.
His frustration burned deep.
For a warrior like him—one who had once stood at the pinnacle of Murim—this was humiliating. Even after an entire year of brutal training, he was still barely surviving, relying on nothing but his honed instincts and experience. His stats were still shackled, his growth limited.
Was this really the best he could do?
No. That wasn't an option.
The System's Cruelty
Just as Izuku thought he could finally rest, a bright blue screen flashed before his eyes.
[System Prompt]
[Hey, you lazy weakass! Time to train your mana sensitivity.]
Izuku groaned, rubbing his temples. Of course, the system wouldn't let him rest.
[System Prompt]
[Do it for the whole night if you don't want to get beaten to a pulp by those noble kids at the academy.]
"Tch," Izuku clicked his tongue in irritation. "You never let me breathe, do you?"
[System Prompt]
[Nope. Now stop whining and start meditating.]
Izuku sighed but complied. There was no point in arguing with the system. He slowly sat up, adjusting his posture despite the pain wracking his body.
Mana sensitivity training—this was another thing that separated nobles from commoners. Nobles had generations of mana users in their bloodline, making their affinity for magic significantly higher. For someone like Izuku, who had no magical lineage, developing mana sensitivity was an uphill battle.
But that didn't mean he wouldn't try.
He closed his eyes, forcing himself to regulate his breathing, entering a meditative state. He reached out, trying to sense the mana around him.
At first—nothing. Just silence.
Then, after minutes of deep concentration, he felt it—a faint, almost imperceptible presence of energy in the air.
He reached for it, but the moment he tried to grasp it, it slipped through his fingers like water.
Frustration flared in his chest.
Again. He tried again.
And again.
And again.
Every attempt was met with failure. The mana resisted him, rejecting his touch. It was as if the very world was mocking his efforts, telling him that he wasn't worthy of wielding it.
Hours passed.
His body ached, his mind wavered, but Izuku refused to stop.
He wouldn't give up. He couldn't afford to.
The Breakthrough
As the night stretched on, his exhaustion grew heavier. His body screamed for rest, his mind teetered on the edge of collapse. But in that moment of absolute exhaustion—
Something changed.
A spark.
Faint, almost nonexistent, but there.
The mana around him trembled ever so slightly. It was responding.
Izuku's breath hitched. He didn't move, didn't force it—he simply observed. Slowly, he reached out again, but this time, instead of trying to grasp it, he let it come to him.
The mana drifted, drawn to him ever so slightly.
For the first time, he could feel it—truly feel it.
[System Prompt]
[Mana Sensitivity +0.3%]
A small gain.
But a gain nonetheless.
Izuku let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He had finally made progress.
He opened his eyes, the dim glow of dawn creeping through his window. His body ached, his mind was numb, but deep inside, something had shifted.
He was still weak.
Still cursed.
Still barely surviving.
But he was moving forward. Slowly. Painfully. But forward nonetheless.
He clenched his fist, determination burning in his gaze.
No matter how long it took—
No matter how much pain he had to endure—
He would rise again.
To Be Continued in Chapter 27 – The Path of Mana