Kael stared at the readout, jaw slowly tightening.

  Physical Attributes

  Strength: 4 / 72

  Agility: 7 / 83

  Endurance: 6 / 65

  Dexterity: 3 / 55

  Perception: 7 / 67

  I can dodge. I can run. I might even last a few hits, he thought, eyes narrowing. Strength’s not awful, just… not enough to carry me yet. Not in this place.

  The potential numbers were the only silver lining. He could grow into them—if he survived long enough. Training, essence cycling, years of effort. All just to maybe scratch the ceiling.

  He scrolled.

  Elemental Affinities

  Fire: 0 / 0

  Lightning: 0 / 0

  Water: 5 / 12

  Earth: 5 / 14

  Air: 23 / 33

  Air was the only one worth anything. A step past the critical twenty-point mark, where spellcasting finally became more than party tricks. At thirty, an affinity’s strength quadrupled. At forty, it multiplied again—sixteen times stronger than at twenty.

  He was barely past the line.

  I get wind. Just wind. Figures.

  Then came the number that hit like a hammer to the gut:

  Core Size: 15

  Fifteen.

  His breath caught for half a second.

  That can’t be right.

  Most people started in the forties. Anything below thirty was considered stunted. Kael had fifteen. That wasn’t a foundation. It was a crack in the floor.

  He rubbed a hand down his face.

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  “Of course,” he muttered under his breath. “Because why stop at mediocre when you can go full tragic?”

  Cursing helped. Not the loud, violent kind—just quiet, dry sarcasm. It kept his thoughts from running in circles.

  Should’ve known. First one pulled early, and I get stuck with a core the size of a leaking bottle cap.

  Core size wasn’t everything—but it was your fuel tank. It told you how much Arcane Essence you could draw on. For spellcasters, that was life or death. One real spell, maybe two, and he’d be running on fumes.

  Unless I go physical.

  He closed his eyes. Slowed his breath. Reached inward.

  Not for the screen. Not for numbers.

  For the soulcore.

  He felt it beneath the surface—dense, pulsing faintly, like a second heart lodged deep behind his ribs. Around it floated fragments of the elements. The ones he had. Water and earth, dull and quiet. Air, brighter. More alive.

  The others weren’t there.

  Nothing answered when he reached for fire or lightning. Just silence.

  That was how it worked. The basic elements floated close to the top of the soulcore. Easy to scan. Easy to see.

  But anything rare—anything unique—would lie deeper.

  Not because they’re locked, he reminded himself. Because they don’t answer to sight. You have to know your soul well enough to understand what’s already there.

  He wasn't there yet. But he’d get there.

  Eventually.

  His thoughts drifted, unbidden, back to the Physical Pathway.

  A brutal option—but tempting. It would flood his body with Arcane Essence permanently. Rip the core open, let the magic circulate like blood. Less need for fuel. Faster results.

  The pain would be unbearable. The choice irreversible.

  But his low core size wouldn’t hold him back as much. And all his magical potential—his air affinity, his minor traits—would become a kind of physical currency. Strength. Speed. Endurance.

  In Kael’s case, it’d still be a boost. He’d be stronger. More capable.

  Just not… exceptional.

  Not in the long run.

  He hovered at the edge of the decision.

  Then stepped back.

  Because he wanted more than fists. More than muscle. He wanted reach. Precision. He wanted to shape the air, bend it around his enemies, carve the world from a distance.

  So he left the core untouched. Closed the meditation. Let the awareness fade.

  Across the room, Aiko still sat motionless, focused on her own reading.

  Kael blinked slowly. His body felt heavier than before.

  Then, without turning to him, Aiko spoke.

  “You okay?”

  Kael didn’t answer.

  Not yet.