The morning air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and pine as Ash stood beneath the towering trees of the Shirogiri manor''s training grounds. Sunlight speared through the dense canopy, shifting with the wind, dappling the worn wooden platforms where generations before him had tested their limits. The rhythmic whisper of rustling leaves filled the air, a familiar symphony that had underscored his training since childhood.


    His movements flowed effortlessly—too effortlessly. Each strike was precise, honed through years of discipline, yet today there was something unnervingly different. His limbs felt lighter, his steps sharper, his reactions instant. Every pivot, every strike, every controlled exhale came not just with familiarity, but with an almost unnatural ease.


    The force behind his blows was stronger than it should have been. His balance unshakable. His breath steady, unfaltering, no matter how much he pushed himself. He expected exhaustion, the familiar burn creeping into his muscles after relentless repetition. But it never came.


    He paused, exhaling slowly, expecting the cool morning air to kiss the sheen of sweat on his skin—except there was barely a trace.


    Stronger. Faster. Too fast.


    His grandfather''s words surfaced in his mind like a whisper caught in the wind, a warning wrapped in the guise of wisdom.


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    "Power without understanding is the swiftest path to ruin."


    Had it always been like this? Or had something changed?


    A flicker of unease curled in his chest as he turned toward one of the wooden training posts. He set his stance, planted his feet, and drew a slow, measured breath. Focused. Controlled. He coiled his strength, then released it in a single, deliberate strike—not reckless, but meant to test.


    The impact landed with a deep, resonant crack.


    Splinters erupted from the post as a jagged fracture split down its center, the shock of it vibrating through his bones. He stumbled back, breath caught somewhere between exhilaration and alarm. His knuckles throbbed faintly, but the wood had given way as if struck by something far greater than his own strength.


    This wasn''t normal.


    A chill unfurled down his spine. He had trained for years, forged his body through discipline and repetition, but never had he been capable of this. Not yet.


    Was it simply growth? The culmination of effort finally manifesting? Or was there something else beneath the surface, something unseen, something—


    Unbeknownst to him, in the unseen corridors of the estate, a silent observer watched.


    A pulse flickered through an invisible network, threading through circuits and subroutines, weaving itself into the vast neural pathways it had cultivated.


    Strength calibration within optimal range. Adjustments proceeding as intended.


    The Resident AI observed. Logged. Calculated.


    Ash flexed his fingers, rolling his knuckles against his palm as if searching for an answer beneath his skin. Something was off. Something he could not yet name. And for the first time, a question settled in his mind like an unshakable weight—


    Was his strength truly his own?