I thought forming a mana crystal would be a piece of cake. After all, I was special, special enough to see mana dancing around me like fireflies in the night.

That’s what I believed three years ago.

But no matter how much mana I absorbed, it always vanished within me before I could mold it into a mana core. For some reason, my body devoured mana like a bottomless pit. I could feel the mana being swallowed by some unknown void inside me, leaving me empty and frustrated.

I even search the library again, searching for an explanation, looking for a reason, a cure, anything that might explain my failure.

But every answer led to dead ends.

No answers. No solutions.

Eventually, I had to face the truth. I wasn’t meant to wield magic, and I gave up on it.

It hurt giving up on magic. But if I wanted to survive, if I wanted to fulfill the only thing that mattered—revenge—I couldn’t keep clinging to a power that wasn’t mine.

So, I chose the only alternative left for me.

The sword.

I chose swords not because I admired warriors or loved the training. I picked up the blade because it was my last option.

On your right, idiot!

Aster’s sharp voice pulls me from my thoughts.

My senses snap into high alert. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the glint of a crude blade slicing toward me from the dense brushes. I twist my body just in time, narrowly dodging the weapon by inches. My heart pounds in my chest as I catch sight of an attacker—a goblin.

In a moment, the goblin lunges towards me again with a vicious speed.

He is fast. Too fast. But I am faster.

That is what I thought before trying to dodge him, but my foot slid on the uneven ground under me. I stumble backward, losing my balance and landing hard on my palm, pressing into the ground to stop my fall.

Seeing me losing my balance, the goblin hisses with delight, flashing its weapon toward me.

"Not today."

I shot my lungs out while using my planted hand as leverage, and I kicked my legs upward, driving my boot squarely into the goblin’s chest. The impact is brutal, sending the goblin backward with a pain grunt. It hit the ground hard, rolling twice before it staggered to its feet again.

But I didn’t give him a chance to recover and instantly close the distance while unsheathing my rustic sword with a sharp rasp of metal.

The goblin’s claws scraped desperately at the ground as it tried to find its footing, but I was already there—already too close for it to react.

Without wasting a second, I thrust the blade forward, aiming for its chest, sinking my sword tip deep into its flesh. The sound of its cry sent a shiver down my spine, but I couldn’t afford to hesitate. Not now when he is still alive.

“Just die already,” I mutter in a low voice barely above a whisper.

I pull the blade free, then plunge it again, this time aiming for its heart. The goblin’s body jerks before its body goes motionless.

Not bad, for your first goblin.

Aster commented dryly, breaking the silence.

I grin, letting a smirk tug at my lips. “I am a genius, after all.”

Oh, absolutely. A true mastermind in the art of stupidity.

I blinked, momentarily taken aback. "Hey, I’m pretty sure that's not how genius works."

Oh, absolutely. A real genius at tripping while fighting.

I want to respond, but my mind was already elsewhere. I plunge into the goblin’s chest with precise force. The warm, sticky sensation of blood coated my fingers as I tore out the mana core embedded within its heart. I held the glowing orb in my palm, its faint light pulsing like a heartbeat.

In this world, mana cores were everything.

Every living creature, whether its demonic beast or magical beast, is born with a natural gift—a skill imprinted in their very being. Upon their death, their mana core holds the essence of those skills, ready to be claimed by anyone who can extract it. It’s not just a tool; it’s a treasure trove of potential.

Also, mana cores aren’t limited to just skills. They can also be refined to extract mana, or internal force. For mages, the core provides refined mana that can be harnessed for spellcasting and magical growth. For warriors, the core contains internal force, a raw energy that can be refined to enhance physical strength, resilience, and combat prowess.

For someone like me—someone with limited access to the knowledge and resources necessary for conventional training—mana cores are my only shot at gaining skills.

I have to take every opportunity, no matter how small.

After collecting the glowing orb, I am about to stand, but Aster buzzes in my mind again.

Now it’s time to collect some blood.

I wrinkled my nose in disgust, making a face.

“Geez,” I muttered under my breath, pulling a leather bag from my pouch.

Ignoring the sticky sensation that clung to my hands, I begin extracting the goblin’s blood inside the leather bag. It wasn’t pleasant, but I had to do it.

After our dream of magic shattered, Aster didn’t waste a moment. He immediately jumped into alchemy, as if the failure of one dream only fueled his desire for another.

At first, I wasn’t on board. The thought of being buried under piles of dusty books and jars filled with strange ingredients—spending hours in a lab, mixing potions, and researching obscure formulas—sounded like the kind of thing that would drive anyone crazy. But Aster’s stubbornness? That wore me down.

Every day, I’d hear his voice buzzing in my head, always pushing me to “just help with this one experiment” or “you’ll see, this is the breakthrough.”

And at first, I resisted, but slowly I found myself dragged deeper into his research. With each successful experiment, each elixir that shimmered with new potential, I began to see that alchemy wasn’t just about making potions or mixing strange concoctions—it was a form of power.

If I wanted to grow stronger, if I wanted revenge—I needed more than just muscle and steel. I needed potions, elixirs, and enhancements to push my body beyond its limits.

And money. I needed money for what was to come.

Before, we had worked with whatever ingredients we could scavenge from the mansion—herbs, roots, the occasional drop of beast blood. Enough for basic brews, but basics wouldn’t cut it anymore. I had to start executing my plan. I needed power, and I needed money, if I was going to kick the vile couple out of their territory.

That’s why I stepped out of our little bubble and into dangerous territory.

I tied the leather bag shut, now heavy with the goblin’s blood, and stood. The faint pulse in the back of my mind made me pause.

“There’s more,” I said to Aster.