Axia couldn’t comprehend it. That shadow had just marked him.

  The bond, just as it appeared, vanished. In the cold silence of the library, Axia stood shocked, almost frozen by the impression.

  Still dazed, he forced his exhausted body upright.

  “It was easier than I thought,” he muttered, almost breathless.

  “And yet, that boy gave me those stones without any trust at all. It doesn’t sit well with me.”

  Taking two steps toward the exit, he whispered:

  “I am no longer Axia. From now on, I’ll be Blaise, this poor child cursed by life.”

  Confident it would be simple, Axia left the library. At last, Blaise saw people again. Still unsettled, he decided to return to the old man who had spoken to him about bonds. As he ran through the streets, he thought:

  “I need to know more about these bonds. Why are they held in such high regard if it was that easy? That old man will answer me.”

  But all he found was a scrap of paper: “Good luck, boy.”

  “Damn it… that old man disappeared? What is this? Magic?”

  Blaise shivered, remembering he was no longer in his own world.

  “Damn it, I’m a grown man trapped in the body of a child.”

  For a moment, he realized he didn’t even know the boy’s age. On Earth, he had lived forty-two years as a man.

  Walking back to his home, he pondered how each bond worked—or at least, his own.

  Touching the sword-shaped mark on his chest, he tried to imagine how to activate its power, or even discover what ability it granted—if any at all.

  For some reason, he muttered:

  “Status window.”

  People stared, and Blaise, proud, raised his chin.

  “Ha, I’m regaining my fame.”

  But when laughter echoed around him, he remembered again—this wasn’t his world. Embarrassed, he ran home, trying different phrases:

  “Activate.”

  “Abracadabra.”

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  “Bond.”

  “Powers.”

  “Ugh! Why can’t I feel my powers like in other novels? Or worse, why isn’t there a status window telling me what to do?”

  Frustrated, he decided to get home first and train in peace.

  “Shadow…” he whispered one last time before arriving.

  Inside, Blaise sat cross-legged, ready to meditate. His training consisted of channeling energy into different parts of his body. Weak areas would recover through meditation, while the power increase remained.

  “I was a talent once. My body had the strength any man would envy… but this boy is a beast. His body is full of energy channels. His growth will be exponential.”

  Excited, Blaise focused his power on his forearms, legs, back, and abdomen.

  “A fighter needs a strong body. And now, I can refine my speed technique. Ha… I’m stronger than before. Or at least… I can be.”

  Eager to test himself, he waited until nightfall and stepped onto the dirt streets. Fog wrapped the city as he descended to the lower quarters. In an alley, two burly men cornered him.

  “Kid, we saw you following us. Not scared? Hand over everything you’ve got and maybe we’ll let you live.”

  Both drew knives.

  Blaise, his dark blue eyes piercing into them, replied:

  “You two… come here.”

  He shifted into guard, his right leg forward—his MMA stance.

  The men charged, hurling their knives, but Blaise vanished before their eyes. Kicking off a wall, he landed behind one and locked him in a chokehold. The second man froze—by the time he realized, his companion was already on the ground.

  Terrified, he lunged. Blaise struck his forearm, forcing him to drop the blade, then delivered a sharp strike to the neck with the edge of his hand. For an instant, a sword shimmered at his wrist. The strike cut through the man’s throat, and the sword vanished.

  The body collapsed, blood flowing silently. Blaise stood tall—his hands clean, yet stained from within. He had killed.

  Axia had crippled many foes, but never killed unless necessary.

  A sudden headache bent him forward. He remembered a man with a cold gaze, staring at him after a fight in which Axia had been riddled with bullets. Darkness followed, and a single “Bang.”

  “I just had a vision… of my death. Of all moments, why that one? Damn it.”

  Straightening, Blaise left the scene.

  The next day, he saw two policemen investigating the alley. Guilty, he lowered his head, but he had learned something crucial: his hand could be as sharp as a blade.

  “Is it the boy’s strength? Or my bond? Either way, this body has incredible potential.”

  Clenching his fists, he marched toward the academy.

  “I need information. I feel like the only fool who doesn’t know how to use his bond. Hell, I barely even know what a bond is.”

  Muttering, he spotted Lucius in the distance, surrounded by three older boys. One shoved him to the ground.

  Blaise leapt nearly twenty meters and landed beside him.

  “Kid, come here.”

  Once the bullies walked off, Blaise offered his hand.

  “Get up, Lucius. I need your help with my bond.”

  Startled, Lucius accepted.

  “Of course, anything for a friend. My only friend…”

  Blaise frowned.

  “Don’t get sentimental, Lucius.”

  They went to a shop and sat down. Lucius began to explain:

  “Bonds are a contract—”

  “Skip that crap. Go straight to how they’re used.”

  Nervously, Lucius continued:

  “They can be channeled into the body. Some focus on corpses, others on weapons, others unleash power through magic.”

  “Magic…” Blaise thought. “That word echoes in my head. Could this world be ruled by magic?”

  “I get it. But how do I activate mine?”

  “You need to perform the right action. Like drawing a sword to slash. The motion releases the power. But… you need to know what bond you have. You do know, right?”

  Blaise stayed silent, then muttered:

  “And how much does it matter? It’s only a tool.”

  Annoyed, he stood. The strength in his legs launched him up to the ceiling.

  “I give up… I need to learn control.”

  Those were the words of the man once considered the strongest in the world.