I didn't leave the Ashen Hollow immediately.
Not because I couldn't—but because my body refused to obey me.
I lay sprawled on the cold stone floor, chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. Every muscle screamed. Every nerve felt as if it had been scrubbed raw and then doused in acid. The faint glow that had erupted from the pedestal moments ago was gone now, leaving behind only cracked stone and silence.
Absolute silence.
"…Hah…" I let out a hoarse laugh that echoed weakly through the cavern. "So this is the price."
My vision swam as I stared at the ceiling, where jagged rocks loomed like broken teeth. Tiny motes of dust drifted down, illuminated by the faint mana lingering in the air.
The rune was gone.
No—absorbed.
I could feel it.
Not as a physical mark carved into my skin, but as something deeper. Something etched directly into my existence.
Slowly, painfully, I pushed myself into a seated position. The moment I did, a wave of dizziness hit me so hard that I nearly collapsed again.
"Easy," I muttered, pressing a hand against the ground. "Don't get cocky. You almost died five minutes ago."
My heartbeat gradually steadied. As it did, I became aware of something… different.
The ache in my chest—the constant, dull pain I had lived with since transmigrating—was gone.
Not reduced.
Not dulled.
Gone.
I froze.
"…Wait."
I closed my eyes, focusing inward.
Mana perception wasn't something I was good at. My reserves were too small, my control too crude. Normally, when I tried to sense my mana core, it felt like touching a cracked glass sphere—fragile, uneven, leaking energy no matter how carefully I handled it.
But now…
There was no cracking sensation.
No leakage.
Instead, I felt something compact. Dense. Stable.
It was small—painfully small compared to geniuses like Aurelius or even average academy students—but it was whole.
"…You've got to be kidding me," I whispered.
I extended my senses further.
The mana flowed smoothly through my channels, no longer colliding with internal blockages or dispersing uselessly into my body. Each circulation felt deliberate, controlled, efficient.
Like a narrow river that no longer overflowed its banks.
My lips trembled.
"So that's it," I murmured. "Foundation correction."
Not an increase in quantity.
But an overhaul of quality.
I laughed again—this time more genuinely.
"All those years," I said quietly, "everyone chasing bigger cores, higher output, more explosive spells…"
I clenched my fist, feeling the faint but precise movement of mana respond instantly.
"And here I am," I continued, "with a core that finally works the way it's supposed to."
The inheritance hadn't given me power.
It had given me potential.
I rested my back against a rock and stayed there for a long time, letting the realization sink in. Outside, time passed. The cavern remained unchanged, indifferent to my internal revolution.
Eventually, curiosity overtook exhaustion.
"…Let's test it," I said softly.
I raised my hand, palm upward, and focused.
Mana gathered.
Slowly.
Steadily.
No resistance. No backlash.
A tiny spark flickered to life above my palm—barely larger than a candle flame, its color a pale blue-white.
I stared at it, stunned.
Normally, even forming this much mana took intense concentration and left me gasping for breath. Now, it felt… natural.
Like breathing.
The spark wavered but didn't collapse.
Ten seconds passed.
Twenty.
Thirty.
My breathing remained even.
"…I'm maintaining it," I whispered. "Without strain."
I let the mana disperse and leaned back, staring at my hand as if it belonged to someone else.
"This changes everything."
I finally forced myself to stand, legs still weak but functional. Every movement felt slightly unfamiliar, as if my body had been subtly recalibrated.
As I climbed out of the Ashen Hollow, the afternoon sun greeted me like a warm embrace. The forest felt different now—not because it had changed, but because I had.
The walk back to the academy was slow.
I avoided running. Avoided unnecessary mana use. This wasn't the time to push my limits. The rune had stabilized my foundation, yes—but it had also pushed my body dangerously close to collapse.
By the time the academy walls came into view, the sun was already leaning westward.
I slipped back inside just before sunset, blending into the flow of returning students. No one stopped me. No one questioned me.
Good.
My dorm room welcomed me with quiet familiarity.
The moment I shut the door behind me, my legs finally gave out.
I collapsed onto the bed, staring at the ceiling, chest rising and falling.
"…That was stupid," I said aloud. "Effective. But stupid."
I closed my eyes, then opened them again slowly.
A faint shimmer flickered at the edge of my vision.
"…Hm?"
Frowning, I focused.
A translucent pattern appeared before my eyes—barely visible, like a reflection on water.
Lines.
Symbols.
Runes.
My breath caught.
"What… is this?"
The pattern sharpened, forming a complex array of interlocking runic structures. They weren't carved into the air—they were projected directly into my perception.
Instinctively, I understood.
This wasn't a system.
No interface. No prompts. No notifications.
It was a mental imprint.
The rune's legacy.
I reached out—not physically, but mentally—and the runes shifted, rearranging themselves into something comprehensible.
A concept.
A principle.
"…Mana Compression," I whispered.
Not a spell.
A technique.
A foundational method that redefined how mana was stored, circulated, and released.
The rune didn't increase my mana pool.
It taught me how to condense it.
How to pack mana tighter, denser, without instability.
In simple terms—
One unit of my mana could now perform the work of three.
"…You're insane," I muttered, addressing the ancient creator of the rune.
In the novel, this inheritance had been dismissed as useless because no one could activate it properly. High-capacity cores were incompatible. They overloaded the rune's correction process and rejected it.
But my broken, weak core?
It had been the perfect vessel.
I sat up slowly, excitement overriding exhaustion.
"So that's why," I said. "That's why it chose me."
I closed my eyes again and followed the rune's guidance.
Mana gathered.
Compressed.
The sensation was strange—not painful, but intense. Like squeezing water into ice without letting it freeze.
My core trembled.
I stopped immediately.
"…Not yet," I said. "I'm not reckless."
The rune wasn't meant to be mastered overnight.
It was a long-term refinement path.
A slow ascent.
Perfect for someone like me.
I leaned back against the headboard, mind racing.
"With this," I murmured, "I can punch above my weight."
Not in raw output.
But in efficiency.
Control.
Endurance.
A spark of excitement lit my chest.
"For the first time," I said softly, "I'm not starting from behind."
A knock interrupted my thoughts.
I stiffened.
"…Who is it?"
"Rias," a familiar voice called. "It's Viola."
I glanced at the door, then at myself.
Sweaty. Tired. Probably looked half-dead.
Perfect.
I stood, opened the door slightly.
Viola frowned the moment she saw me. "You look terrible."
"Ah," I replied weakly, "so you do care."
She rolled her eyes but pushed past me into the room. "Don't flatter yourself. You skipped dinner."
"I was busy," I said.
"With what?" she asked suspiciously.
"Self-improvement," I replied smoothly.
She studied me for a moment, then clicked her tongue. "You're hiding something."
"Me?" I placed a hand on my chest. "Never."
She snorted. "Liar."
She set a small food container on the desk. "Eat."
"…Thank you," I said, genuinely surprised.
She turned away. "Don't read into it."
Too late.
As I ate, she glanced at me again. "You feel… different."
I paused.
"…Different how?"
She hesitated. "I don't know. Quieter. Like your presence is… steadier."
I nearly choked.
"…You're imagining things."
"Maybe," she said, unconvinced.
After she left, I sat in silence, staring at the half-empty container.
"So others can sense it," I murmured. "At least subtly."
That meant caution.
I finished eating, washed up, and sat cross-legged on the bed.
Time to consolidate the gain.
I closed my eyes and began circulating mana slowly, following the rune's guidance.
The compressed flow felt foreign—but powerful.
Hours passed.
When I finally opened my eyes, the mana lamps outside had dimmed, signaling late night.
I exhaled slowly.
"…This is just the first step," I said.
The rune hadn't made me strong.
But it had made me viable.
From this point onward—
Every drop of effort would finally matter.
I lay back, staring at the ceiling, a faint smile on my lips.
"The story's already off-track," I whispered. "And I've just picked up my first real advantage."
Sleep claimed me soon after.
But this time—
I dreamed not of survival…
But of growth.