Morning.
The sun filtered softly through the trees, casting golden streaks across the forest clearing.
Simon sat cross-legged on the grass, steam rising faintly from his skin as the heat from his morning training still clung to him. Sweat dripped steadily from his brow, but his expression remained calm—focused.
He wasn't resting.
He was examining.
With meticulous care, Simon traced his hands across his body, pressing into muscle groups, noting the density, the heat, the tension. He left nothing unchecked—not even the most private areas—because nothing about his training or growth could be left to guesswork anymore. Not now.
And that's when he noticed it.
Everywhere his muscles pressed against flesh, against organs, against vessels—they had begun to reinforce them. Like armor built from within. His muscle fibers weren't just growing stronger—they were refining themselves, adapting, reshaping everything they touched to endure the force he constantly demanded from his body.
His organs, once soft and vulnerable, now pulsed with an unnatural resilience. The tissue surrounding his ribs had thickened. Tendons had grown denser, more responsive. Even the fascia—the connective web between skin and muscle—was reacting, strengthening.
It was like his body was trying to evolve under the pressure.
But then he felt it. The one part that hadn't changed.
His bones.
The moment his senses turned inward—deeper, past the layers of reinforced muscle and sinew—he found the stillness. His skeleton, though wrapped in strength, hadn't evolved in step. The muscles wrapped around them had become tougher than steel, exerting forces far beyond what any normal human should survive. But the bones beneath?
They remained unchanged.
Old foundations beneath a rebuilt fortress.
They hadn't weakened, no. Not yet. The only thing keeping them from shattering under the sheer tension of his own power… was the thin margin granted by his Astral Lord breakthrough. That surge of energy, that structural reinforcement provided by his recent advancement, had bought him time.
But it wasn't enough anymore.
Simon clenched his fist slowly, feeling the weight of his own strength.
It was ironic. The very thing he'd worked so hard to build—his power—was now becoming a threat to him. Not from outside, but from within.
His body was evolving into something greater. But unless his bones caught up…
He'd break himself from the inside out.
His eyes narrowed.
"I'm outgrowing myself," he muttered.
And for the first time, he understood the next step wasn't more strength.
It was reinforcement.
Deep. Foundational. Bone-deep.
He had to evolve his skeleton.
If he didn't, everything he had built—everything he had become—would eventually collapse under its own weight.
As the realization settled in, a new understanding began to take shape.
Slowly, Simon grasped why Instructor Ethan had never pushed his physical strength to the limits the way Simon had. Ethan was still a 2-Star Astral Lord. His body simply couldn't endure the same level of internal strain. If he overreached, even slightly, it could lead to instability—injuries that wouldn't heal fast enough, vulnerabilities that could get him killed in the field.
In a real battle, even a minor wound could mean the difference between life and death. A fractured bone or a strained tendon could turn a victory into a fatal mistake.
But Simon wasn't Ethan.
His circumstances were different. His body was already at the 3-Star level, giving him a higher baseline for tolerance and regeneration.
And more importantly—
Simon had the ability to copy others.
"If my calculations are right…" he murmured, glancing at the position of the sun and thinking back. "There's about one week left before I can copy another ability."
It had been nearly half a month since he last activated his skill.
Now, his mind raced.
He needed to find someone—anyone—with an ability tied to bone. But as he sifted through his memories, scanning the faces and names of every Astral Lords...
Nothing came to mind.
Bone-related abilities were exceedingly rare. Just like his, there were powers that were Unique, often hidden.
And right now, he needed that ability more than ever.
"I should head back and check the company's logs—someone might've registered a bone-type power," Simon muttered, pulling out his bike, preparing to leave.
But before he could mount it, two figures emerged from the forest.
They stepped into the clearing with slow, deliberate movements, the shadows parting as if to make way. Simon's eyes narrowed instantly. For a moment, he was simply stunned.
Finding another person—or worse, a team—this deep in the wilderness was rarer than spotting a needle in a haystack. The odds were slim. Astral Lords rarely ventured this far without a reason, and those who did often didn't return.
His surprise only lasted a breath.
In the next heartbeat, it was gone—replaced by cold caution and a rising killing intent.
Out here, trust was a luxury.
The wilderness didn't just breed monsters—it bred desperation. And desperate humans were more dangerous than any Dreadbeast. You could predict how a creature would fight. A person? Never.
Simon's stance shifted. Calm, but ready.
In a smooth motion, he reached behind him and drew Ignis Fangs. The twin blades hummed faintly in the air, heat already beginning to rise from their edges.
The atmosphere changed instantly. Like a string pulled tight.
The two strangers stopped, clearly sensing the tension spike like lightning in a storm. They exchanged a glance, then looked back at Simon—understanding dawning in their eyes.
Every word they spoke from here on out... would determine everything.
Whether he helped them—or cut them down.