Jelo stared at the notification for a moment.

The others didn’t see it. They never did. But they saw him go still—the particular quality of stillness that meant something was happening that existed only for him.

“Jelo,” Ken said.

“One second.”

He looked at the two crystals in his hands. He’d done this before. He knew what was coming. The rush was never comfortable, never clean, but his body was at the edge of what it could sustain and the reserve needed rebuilding now.

He consumed the first crystal.

The effect was immediate—heat spreading from his sternum outward through his limbs like warm current moving through cold water. His breathing steadied. The throbbing behind his eyes dissolved. The stiffness in his left arm from the Daba’s grip released and his hand opened and closed without resistance.

He consumed the second.

The enhanced variant hit differently.

A full-body surge—rigid for a half-second, spine straightening involuntarily, every muscle contracting at once before releasing in a wave that moved from his core outward. The warmth became real heat. His vision sharpened at the edges, everything gaining definition. The world felt more present—like clarity arriving all at once after hours of operating through fog.

He exhaled slowly.

[Energy Reserve: 100 → 680 / 1000 ESS]

[Enhanced core absorption detected]

[Bonus effect processing…]

[New Skill Unlocked: Ember Step]

[Ember Step: Temporarily ignite ground contact points during movement, converting kinetic energy into short-range fire propulsion. Allows explosive directional bursts of speed. Duration: 4 seconds per activation. Cooldown: 18 seconds.]

He read it twice.

Ember Step.

He already knew what it was. He’d used it—the burst that had closed the distance on the Daba, the directional change that no normal movement could have produced in that timeframe. The system was formalizing something the enhanced core had unlocked mid-fight, cataloguing it now that the reserve was stable enough to register properly.

The ability solved the exact problem the fight had exposed. Commitment hesitation—the half-second where his body second-guessed the angle and indecision cost him position. Ember Step didn’t allow for second-guessing. The moment it activated, the direction was decided. The burst was committed. There was no halfway.

Tongen would find something wrong with it anyway, he thought. But probably something useful.

“Jelo.”

He looked up. Atlas was watching him with mild suspicion—the expression of someone who’d noticed something happen and couldn’t identify what.

“You good?” Atlas asked.

“Better than I was.” He rolled his shoulders. The depletion was gone. His body felt like his own again—present, responsive. “A lot better.”

Atlas stared a moment then chose not to push it. With Jelo, certain things were understood without being explained.

Mira was less subtle.

“Your eyes,” she said.

“What about them?”

“Just for a second—when you did whatever that was.” She studied him with precise attention. “They went brighter. Like something behind them.”

He had no explanation for that. He filed it and said nothing.

He moved to open ground a few steps away and reached for Ember Step the same way he’d learned to reach for Dragon Claw when it was new—not forcing the mechanism, just locating it in his awareness and trusting it was there.

One step—

The ground flared at the contact point. Contained, directional, brief. And then he was moving—three times the distance a normal step should produce, body staying controlled through the burst, no stumbling, no overcorrection.

He stopped. Then activated it again, cutting laterally. The direction shifted instantly. No deceleration into the turn. Just commitment, built into the action itself.

He walked back.

Mira had watched every part of it. “That’s new.”

“Yes.”

“How new?”

“Today.”

She absorbed that—adjusting whatever internal model she maintained of his capabilities and threat range. He could see the recalculation happening behind her eyes.

Ken had caught the second burst. His flat gaze moved from the scorch marks on the ground to Jelo’s feet and back up. “Directional control?”

“Full.”

One nod. Sufficient.

Atlas looked at the faint heat marks on the ground and said, “I want that.”

“You have earth manipulation,” Mira said.

“And I want that too.”

Mira had no response to that.

They started back toward the portal. Jelo moved through the terrain without the grinding effort it had cost him on the way in—body responsive, ESS restored, each step carrying real weight behind it. The fight replayed in pieces as he walked.

Mira’s clones had been her strongest tool and her clearest vulnerability at the same time. Three angles with three blades was genuinely difficult to manage—he’d seen the Daba hesitate in the opening exchange, and that was more than most opponents gave her at first contact. But two clones had a limit. Once the creature stopped being confused by the split and started reading the tells, the clones became noise rather than threat.

Then something surfaced that he’d almost missed in the chaos.

He replayed the moment before Mira went down. She had pressed for the first time—committed through an opening without hesitating—and in that combination a third clone had appeared. Just for a second. Overlapping with the others, blade raised, before collapsing when she took the hit.

He glanced at her.

“The third one,” he said.

Mira looked at him.

“During your last combination. Before you went down.” He kept his voice even—observation, not analysis. “There were three clones. Not two.”

She was quiet for a moment.

“…I noticed that too,” she said.

“Has that happened before?”

“No.” A pause. “I wasn’t trying for a third. I just stopped thinking about what I was doing and—” She stopped. “It was there.”

Jelo nodded once.

That tracked. Her system responding to the absence of hesitation with more than she’d consciously reached for. The same principle Tongen had been building in all of them—showing up in the most direct way possible, in the middle of a real fight, in the one moment she’d stopped managing and started committing.

“Tell Tongen,” Jelo said.

Mira glanced sideways. “I was going to.”

Atlas had been close enough to catch the exchange. He said nothing, but Jelo caught the shift in his expression—processing it, connecting it to his own experience in the fight. The moments where he’d yielded ground cleanly and found better positions waiting on the other side.

The portal came into view.

Jelo slowed slightly and looked back once—at the terrain, at the scorch marks from Ember Step, at the distant shapes of the downed Dabas.

100 ESS in. 680 out. One new skill. A third clone Mira hadn’t known she could make.

He turned forward.

“Let’s go.”

They stepped through the portal.

The academy air hit immediately—cooler, more familiar. Jelo exhaled as it sealed behind them.

Atlas was rotating his shoulder carefully, the stone-gauntlet marks still faint across his knuckles.

Mira stood very straight—too straight, the way people do when protecting something that hurts. Both blades were sheathed again, movements precise and deliberate.

Ken looked exactly the same as he always looked.

Jelo said nothing for a moment.

Then—

“Good work.”

Atlas glanced over. A grin that faded into something quieter when Jelo didn’t add anything to soften it.

Mira looked at him sideways. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” he agreed.

They separated. Jelo walked back alone—Ember Step ready in the back of his awareness, ESS stable, the fight’s lessons already organizing themselves into something usable—already thinking about what Tongen would find to take apart next.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep