The concept of getting strong sounded easy, but it also presented its own question:

How does one get stronger?

Was it by training his body to the limit, like most aura users did? Or encoding numerous magic formulas, like mages did? Or relying on cheats, like he had just done?

Frankly speaking, the answer wasn't as simple as picking one—it was all of the above and more.

There wasn't one particular way to get stronger; there existed many. One just had to find the one most suited for them, and for Art, he perfectly knew what to do.

"Aura functions like a multiplier—it adds value to what already exists, in this case, my physical stats. But I've had little time to work out and build my body, so for now, I'll just focus on mastering aura and less on building my body."

To build his muscles and overall strength, he needed to exercise, but the process would take too long. So he couldn't afford to only exercise. If he did that and neglected his aura training, the process would be halted.

Art, even after awakening, had neglected aura because it wasn't a path he was particularly interested in. But that Art was different from the current one. The new one needed to learn aura—for his protection and so forth.

"The academy should have a library for aura control, but I wonder if I'll need an ID to use it."

For now, he was hired personnel of the academy, but not everyone knew that. So he doubted he would be allowed to enter the school library.

"Guides from the internet could work for now."

While not as detailed, there existed many guides about aura usage on the internet.

"For now, I'll keep it simplified and learn the basics..."

"Of!"

Cut off by a silhouette that cast a shadow over him, blocking the sun's glow, Art displayed an untraceable expression as he looked up—finding a familiar blonde-haired girl staring down at him with a twinkle in her eyes.

"Oh." He furrowed his brow, glad his body had been too exhausted to react to Trish's presence.

"Teacher."

With her hands behind her back like a humble student, she smiled, her eyes displaying a childlike curiosity unbefitting of her age.

"Ah... didn't we just part two hours ago?"

"One hundred and fifty-seven minutes, to be exact."

"....."

"That is two hours and thirty-seven minutes. It's quite long, so please, Teacher, don't undersell it with 'just.'"

"Alright, cut to the chase—what do you want?"

Too exhausted to deal with her rambling, he urged her, aiming to end this conversation as quickly as possible for his own sanity.

"Well...."

[Trish emotional meter: Trust 5]

"Can I sit beside you, Teacher?"

With a pleading look, she inquired, causing Art to glance around for a way out.

"Sure, suit yourself then." He scoffed.

"Really?" She smiled.

"Yeah, I was about to leave anyway."

"...."

Finding his words dissatisfying, the color in her eyes dimmed.

"Teacher, can I follow you?"

"Why?"

Art, baffled by her forceful assertion, threw a question of his own.

"Is it wrong for a student to want to follow their teacher?"

The sharpness of her reply sent a shiver down Art's spine as he wondered what he had done to deserve this.

Seeing she had successfully convinced Art to stay, Trish sat beside him, ignoring the stares she received and focusing all her attention on him—for he was the most important being here.

In a scene that Art could only describe as a crazy zealot gazing upon their object of worship, Trish's eyes—lacking any negativity and only expressing admiration—were fixed on him, once again bringing that familiar chill.

"Crazy!" he thought, seeing how dead her eyes were. It made one wonder what kind of childhood she had experienced to become so fixated on the first person who treated her with even a little gentleness.

"....So, you want to talk about anything?"

"No."

"Want to ask a question?"

"....No."

"Want to learn about me?"

"~Yes!"

Another chill followed—the depth in her voice too uncanny and frightening.

"I want to learn about you, Teacher..."

She paused and tilted her head, a mixture of confusion and awe in her eyes.

[Trish emotional meter: Trust 3]

Seeing her trust level suddenly drop, he wasn't surprised. She was an intelligent girl, and with enough thought, she would have grown confused about why she was suddenly so interested in him.

In this world, where succubi and mages with all kinds of charm spells existed, it wouldn't be an understatement to say one's emotions were never safe—they could be easily manipulated.

So the crazy girl, no matter how much of a zealot she was becoming for this strange man, couldn't help but wonder if her emotions were being toyed with.

"Teacher... are you human?"

There was a hint of sharpness in her voice as her dim blue eyes locked onto him.

"Pretty sure."

Art, showing an expression of disinterest, nodded—but Trish wasn't fully convinced. She suddenly got off the bench and took a few steps back from him.

"Okay."

With a newfound sense of alertness, the color in her eyes flickered lightly, denoting the use of aura.

It lasted for a good second before she sat back on the bench with a sigh of relief.

"Teacher, how old are you?"

Having confirmed what she wanted, she asked another question.

"Between twenty to forty, give or take. Or you could just guess."

"Then I'll say 20."

"Why?"

"I want to believe you aren't that much older than me."

"....I see."

He neither confirmed nor denied her words, leaving it ambiguous for his own reasons.

"Are you a swordmaster like me?"

"Yes."

As Art responded, she glanced at his hands. They didn't seem like the hands of someone who followed the path of the blade. They looked too weak—no, everything about him gave off the presence of someone who was weak. And yet...

"Teacher... I want to fight you."

There was something she wanted to understand—and it couldn't be acquired by just asking, but by crossing blades with the young man beside her.

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