Then Archery is my path

August 1, 3108

My situation wasn't entirely hopeless. The odds of being recognized were slim. The people I'd interacted with closely in the past were few—those within the clan, ranging from teachers to some elders. While my reappearance might raise questions during high-profile events like the academy's year-end tournaments, there was a way to mitigate the risk.

Even after all this time, you're still helping me, Mom. If I conceal my face with armor, the chances of being recognized drop significantly.

Standing under the shower, the water cascading down my body, I prepared for what was to come. I held the test tube with the red-silver liquid from my mother's box in my hand, its contents glinting under the light. Naked, I ensured nothing would block the process, allowing my pores to remain completely open.

Preparations like these were rare and extremely controversial, carrying both immense potential and significant risks. My mind recalled the information I'd gathered:

Opening the pores with such solutions triggers intense pain and itching, as the skin's pores demand an enormous amount of aether to stabilize. If a stable aether circuit isn't maintained during the process, the solution can damage the aetheric arteries, leaving permanent harm. The residue of these substances often lingers in the body, and if not flushed out through rigorous training, it could corrode the arteries over time. The preparation is typically unsafe for use during adolescence, as it could interfere with natural growth. It's a risk no one would advise before the age of 17 or 18. The formula is so rare and valuable that it's monopolized by only two major clans specializing in pharmacology, and the cost of acquiring it equals that of a 4-star weapon.

Thankfully, my mother's version claimed to avoid the lingering effects, making it impossible to trace during medical exams—a crucial detail since using illegal preparations would be grounds for rejection from the academy. That alone made this worth the risk.

Fuh…

I exhaled deeply and downed the contents of the test tube in one swift motion. At first, there was no immediate effect, only the metallic tang lingering in my mouth. I braced myself, already anticipating what lay ahead, and began circulating my aether.

Ten minutes in, a faint itch spread across my body, manageable and easy to ignore.

Fifteen minutes passed, and the sensation intensified, covering almost two-thirds of my skin. The prickling grew more persistent, like a thousand tiny needles probing for attention.

By the twentieth minute, agony engulfed my body. Every pore screamed, thirsting for aether as if they were suffocating, each one an insatiable void. My skin felt like it was tearing itself apart from the inside.

"I need more aether," I muttered through clenched teeth, forcing myself to maintain the circuit. My body demanded relief, but there was no other way forward.

2nd Stage: Wind Acceleration.

As soon as I activated the second stage of my movement technique, the torment in my pores subsided slightly. The pain dulled, though it still lingered like an ache deep within my skin. It was a relief but far from comfort.

At the twenty-five-minute mark, I succeeded in unlocking the head armor. Yet the thirst from my pores only grew more insistent, as if opening one gate had only unleashed a greater hunger.

By thirty minutes, the room's aether was almost depleted. The air felt suffocating, heavy with stagnation. I stood up, refusing to halt the circulation. Each step was a struggle—my left foot, in particular, felt like someone was physically constricting my breath every time it hit the ground.

I made my way to the window, opened it wide, and inhaled deeply. "This isn't enough," I thought grimly.

Standing on the frame, I reached up, grasping the rooftop's edge with one hand. Pulling myself up, I balanced carefully before returning to a meditation position on the rooftop itself. The open sky gave me access to a freer flow of aether, though it was still insufficient.

What should I focus on now?

Two choices presented themselves:

My left calf, which would improve my leg strength and balance—a vital asset for movement and agility, especially since the non-aetheric armor would require symmetry. If I ignored the calf, the imbalance with the leg armor might compromise my efficiency.

My left forearm, which would boost my precision and dexterity in combat. However, as my hands were rarely involved in concurrent actions and had distinct roles, my current armor could suffice for now.

After careful thought, I made my decision. Redirecting the majority of the aether flow that had been concentrated in my head, I guided it toward my left calf.

At the sixty-minute mark, the overwhelming effects began to wane. The fiery thirst of my pores lessened, and the aether coursing through my body started stabilizing.

By ninety minutes, the immediate boost had subsided, leaving behind a residual passive effect that would persist for another three to four days. This lingering energy would continue supporting my body as I adapted to the changes. Only then did I dare to close the circuit.

As I came back to full awareness, I took stock of my situation. Still unclothed, faintly damp from the shower, and now reeking of waste eliminated through the process, I found myself perched atop the roof. Thankfully, the building was isolated, with no taller structures nearby to grant anyone a view of my current state.

I really need to plan this process better next time, 

Yeah, I'll probably stay here until the evening.

Returning to my apartment through the stairs wasn't an option—my key card was locked inside, and the door wasn't exactly open for negotiation. Climbing down the same way I had gone up would take far too long, and there wasn't an immediate reason to rush.

So, I decided to meditate on the rooftop until the sun dipped below the horizon. The cool evening breeze helped me focus, and when night fully enveloped the city, I carefully descended one floor at a time until I reached the window of my apartment.

August 4, 3108

The results of my experiment were evident: I had successfully opened my head armor, and the time required to unlock my leg armor through standard meditation had been reduced from three years to just one and a half. In four days, I had effectively halved the time needed for what would otherwise have taken years of effort.

Turning my attention to the next immediate problem, I realized I had no way of contacting Rebeca. Another visit to the clan was simply out of the question—it was far too dangerous.

But an idea struck me.

Using the clan's public website, I located a number intended for external relations, typically used by those interested in working with or investing in the clan.

I dialed the number.

"Hello, is it possible to contact Ms. Rebeca?"

The voice on the other end asked, "Can you name yourself and explain why you need to speak with her?"

Giving my name wasn't an option. But I had an idea, one Rebeca might recognize.

"Please tell her this is related to the war veterans' disabilities list."

I hope she hasn't forgotten the list she once sent me.

"Please hold," came the reply.

After about fifteen minutes, I heard her voice on the line.

"The restaurant in the center on Mendeleev 72 Street," she said tersely, before the call ended abruptly without giving me a chance to respond.

"Did it work?"

When I arrived at the restaurant, I stepped inside and was greeted by the hostess.

"Good afternoon, do you have a reservation?"

I hesitated for a moment, unsure if Rebeca had left my name.

"Do you have anything under Rebeca, Kail, or Cindercrest?"

The hostess checked her list. "No, we don't have any reservations under those names."

"Does that mean I have to wait outside?"

Just as I was about to leave, another thought occurred to me.

"Actually, could you check for Vaylith?"

Her expression changed slightly, and she nodded. "Yes, there's a table in the right corner."

I smiled faintly as I walked toward the table. Master's family name is starting to slip back into life.

Rebeca was already seated at the table when I approached. She looked calm, but her eyes betrayed a mixture of relief and irritation.

"Hello," I greeted, pulling out a chair. "You chose a pretty luxurious place."

"And you," she shot back, her tone sharp, "seem to enjoy playing with both your life and my nerves."

I smiled faintly, trying to brush off her frustration. "The line's always full of random people calling with jokes and nonsense. I doubt it's recorded, at least not permanently."

She leaned in, her voice firm but quiet. "You have to erase the Cindercrest clan from your life as much as possible if you want to stay alive. This isn't a joke, Kail."

"I understand," I replied seriously. "So, about the documents—are they ready?"

Rebeca raised her wristwatch, and after a few precise taps, I received a notification. A file transfer request popped up on my screen, and I accepted it.

Kail Vaylith

Male

Born: 23.04.3091; Eryndor

Orphan

Lives in the state orphanage

Biometric details: fingerprint, ear shape, teeth shape

The document was simple, containing only the most basic information. Notably, there was no attached photo.

Rebeca explained, "The document reflects your original data, but the identity number, family status, and place of residence have been modified. Even though some details overlap with your previous identity, this is equally valid. However, it's crucial that you don't let anyone scan it. If they do, both identities will appear. The photo will be added once you officially enroll in the academy."

"Understood. Thank you."

She moved to the next point. "About the aether-conductive metals—when you settle on a blacksmith, send their address to my private account, and we'll deliver the materials anonymously."

"Got it," I replied.

"Do you already have someone in mind, or should I recommend someone to you?"

"I have an option," I said, my confidence growing.

"Good. When you know how much material you'll need, message me. Be careful, Kail. Even if someone helps you now, if anyone finds out who you really are, you'll have two options: kill them or disappear. Completely. Ideally, far beyond human territories."

I nodded solemnly. "Sure."

With that, our meeting concluded. Rebeca left the table swiftly, not looking back. I sat for a moment longer before heading toward my next destination: the Iron Spark Guild.

I hope Mr. Henry did not completely vacate his position in the guild.