Aiden exhaled, looking at his trembling hands.

Then nodded to himself.

He needed to make sure that the next time he fought—his body could keep up with the future.

The realization settled deep in his chest, heavier than before. His ability worked. He could see ahead, glimpse the perfect movements, the ideal paths. But knowing wasn't enough. Seeing the right move didn't mean his body could execute it. And in a real fight, that gap could kill him.

He flexed his fingers, feeling the faint tremor still there. His body was wrecked from the last battle, but it wasn't just exhaustion. Something was changing.

Not just skill. Something deeper.

A notification flickered in his vision.

[PHYSICAL CALIBRATION IN PROGRESS.]

Aiden clenched his jaw. That again. He'd seen it before—right after the fight. And now, even after some rest, it was still there.

His body wasn't just recovering. It was adjusting.

But the numbers didn't lie.

His wristband flickered as he checked his status.

[Hunter System Evaluation – Subject: Aiden Kain]

[Rank: F]

[Core Trait: Unactivated]

[Strength: 0.9 → 1.1]

[Agility: 1.1 → 1.4]

[Endurance: 0.8 → 1.0]

[Perception 2 → 2.5]

[Mana Capacity: 1.2]

[System Override Attempt: Failure]

His stats had increased.

It wasn't much. A fraction of a point here and there. But that wasn't normal. Stats didn't increase just from running or training. Hunters improved by leveling, by evolving their Core Traits.

But Aiden's Core Trait wasn't activated.

So why was he getting stronger?

The thought crawled under his skin. The System was still trying to adapt to him. It didn't know what he was. Didn't know how to categorize him.

That was why he needed to keep pushing. If his body was changing, he needed to control it.

And the only way to do that?

Keep training.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Training the Body to Keep Up

Aiden started simple. Running.

And immediately regretted it.

His ribs throbbed, his lungs burned, and every step sent fresh aches through his muscles. But he didn't stop. He pushed harder. Faster.

Three miles in, he hunched over, panting. His pulse thundered in his ears.

"I survived an S-Rank Rift," he muttered, wiping sweat from his brow, "but running is gonna kill me? Figures."

Still, it wasn't enough.

His speed wasn't there yet. His strength wasn't there yet. His reflexes? That was still the biggest gap.

Aiden checked his wristband again.

[Strength: 1.1 → 1.2][Agility: 1.4 → 1.5]

It was slight. Barely a shift. But it was real.

His breathing slowed.

His body was changing. Not instantly. Not dramatically. But the more he pushed, the more it responded.

If that was true…

Then he just needed to push harder.

Aiden found himself at an old batting cage, staring at the machine's speed settings.

100 mph.

"That should work," he muttered.

The old man running the cages gave him a weird look. "You sure about that, kid? You don't even have a bat."

"Yeah, I'm just here for the experience."

"...Right."

Aiden stepped inside, rolling his shoulders. This was simple. If his ability worked the way he thought, it should activate when there was a real threat.

The machine whirred.

His vision snapped.

Golden fire lit up his eyes.

And then the first baseball came screaming toward his skull.

Aiden ducked—barely. The ball grazed his hair, slamming into the back of the cage with a violent thunk.

Alright. That was faster than expected.

The second one launched.

His vision flickered. Aiden twisted—almost in time.

The baseball clipped his shoulder.

"Ow. Damn it—"

The next three came in rapid succession. His ability triggered too late. He dodged too early. Then too late again. One baseball slammed into his ribs, another clipped his leg, and one squarely smacked into his forearm.

The old man outside the cage was wheezing with laughter.

Aiden ignored him, rolling his shoulders. He needed to move with his visions, not against them. Every time he second-guessed, every time he hesitated—he got hit.

The next ball launched.

Aiden exhaled.

This time, he didn't think.

His head tilted just an inch to the left. The baseball whizzed past his ear.

The next one came. Aiden's shoulder shifted just out of the way.

The next? His torso twisted just enough to avoid a direct hit.

His body was finally starting to move the way his vision wanted it to. Not perfect. Not fully synced. But closer.

A notification flickered at the edge of his vision.

Agility: 1.5 → 1.8]

The old man watching rubbed his chin. "Huh. Thought you were just gonna get your ass kicked."

"Me too," Aiden admitted.

He stayed another thirty minutes, dodging every single ball at full speed. His body was syncing up with his ability. He was still far from perfect, but for the first time, he could feel the gap closing.

Aiden sat down on a bench, pulling up his Hunter-issued device. Low-tier Rift listings popped up immediately.

A normal Hunter would just sign up for one of these.

But Aiden wasn't normal.

If he used his real name, the Association would flag it instantly.

He needed a workaround.

After twenty minutes of searching, he found it.

[D-Tier Rift: Solo Cleanup Request.]

[Unofficial Clearance.]

[No ID Check.]

[No Paper Trail.]

[Entry Fee: 300 Credits. Payout: 2,000 Credits + Monster Drops.]

Garbage pay. But this wasn't about money.

This was about testing his limits.

His body was changing. But it wasn't enough. He needed to keep pushing. Keep grinding. Keep adapting.

He booked the job under a fake name and made his way to the meeting location—a run-down parking lot near the outskirts of the city, where independent Hunters gathered before diving into private Gates.

As he walked up, he exhaled, shaking out his arms.

He was finally making moves.

And then—

"You've gotta be kidding me."

Aiden froze.

His stomach dropped.

He knew that voice.

Slowly, carefully, he turned his head.

He had never seen his family before. Not with his own eyes. But that voice—he knew that voice.

Reiss.

His older brother stood near the checkpoint, arms crossed, scanning the crowd with a bored expression.

He wasn’t looking at Aiden. Not yet.

Aiden forced himself to breathe. To stay still.

Then, as the handler waved him forward, he exhaled slowly and stepped toward the Gate.

And suddenly, his first real solo Rift was the least of his problems.

o Rift was the least of his problems.