Kenji sat cross-legged on the cool, uneven floor of the ogre queen’s chamber. A faint bluish glow surrounded him as he breathed in deeply, drawing the ambient mana into his small but growing body. His blonde hair shimmered faintly under the dim light of the chamber, and his piercing blue eyes were tightly shut in concentration.
The air in the dungeon was heavy, alive with energy. The mana flowed like invisible rivers, currents that Kenji could now sense with increasing clarity thanks to the [Mana Perception] skill he’d unlocked.
The queen sat across from him, her massive form watching him intently. Despite her imposing size, there was a gentleness in her gaze as she observed her adopted son. Beside her, the ogre prince sat cross-legged as well, trying to mimic his brother’s movements. The young ogre’s brow furrowed in frustration.
“Mother,” Gorruk grumbled, his voice low but tinged with impatience, “Why does get it so easily? He is just a human!”
The queen’s gaze hardened. “Patience, my son. Kenji is not like other humans, nor are you like other ogres. Each of you will grow in your own time.”
Gorruk‘s lips curled in a snarl, but he said nothing more, returning his focus to the mana around him.
System Notification
Kenji opened one eye as a translucent blue screen flickered into view in front of him:
Objective: Absorb 100 units of ambient mana.
Progress: 82/100
Reward: +50 EXP, +1 System Point.
Penalty: None (Tutorial Phase).”
He grinned to himself. The daily quests had been a godsend, guiding him step by step. As an otaku in his previous life, Kenji couldn’t help but marvel at how much the system reminded him of the games and novels he had once consumed.
“Just a little more,” he muttered under his breath.
The queen raised a brow. “Are you speaking to yourself, little one?”
Kenji looked up, startled. “Ah, no, Mother. Just… focusing.”
The queen’s deep laugh rumbled through the chamber. “Good. Focus is the foundation of strength. Without it, even the greatest of talents will wither.”
A Lesson in Mana
As the session ended, the queen gestured for Kenji and the prince to follow her outside the chamber. They stepped into the heart of the ogre village, a sprawling cavern lit by bioluminescent moss and glowing crystals embedded in the walls. The villagers were busy with their daily routines, their low voices and heavy footsteps filling the air.
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“Kenji,” the queen began, her voice steady and commanding, “do you understand why mana is so important?”
Kenji nodded. “It is the foundation of everything here. Strength, magic, even life itself—it all depends on mana.”
“Good,” she said. “But do you know why so many ogres struggle to grow stronger?”
Kenji hesitated. He’d observed the villagers closely over the past few days. While many of them were physically imposing, their auras were weak, unfocused.
“They don’t use it properly,” he ventured.
The queen smiled, pleased with his answer. “Exactly. Most ogres rely solely on their physical strength, neglecting the power of mana. It’s why our kind has stagnated. Without balance, without understanding, evolution is impossible.”
Gorruk crossed his arms, glaring at Kenji. “Not everyone has your weird human brain. Some of us have to work for it.”
Kenji smirked. “And how’s that working out for you?”
“Enough,” the queen snapped, her tone brooking no argument. Both boys fell silent.
She continued, her voice softer now. “Kenji, I’ve seen the potential in you. And you, my son,” she said, turning to Gorruk, “are no less capable. But potential means nothing without effort. From tomorrow, you will both begin formal training. The path to evolution is open to those who earn it.”
The Training Grounds
The next morning, Kenji stood in the village’s makeshift training area. A wide, open space bordered by jagged rock walls, it was filled with crude wooden dummies, weighted stones, and other rudimentary tools.
The combat instructor, a towering ogre with scarred green skin and a single glowing eye, loomed over the two boys.
“I am Grakk,” he growled, his voice deep and gravelly. “You will address me as ‘Instructor.’ Do you understand?”
“Yes, Instructor,” Kenji said immediately. Gorruk muttered something under his breath but nodded.
Grakk eyed Kenji critically. “A human, huh? Fragile. Weak. But maybe you’ll surprise me. Let’s see if you can keep up.”
The training was grueling. Grakk’s methods were brutal, focusing on raw strength and endurance. He made them lift heavy stones, dodge incoming attacks, and strike at dummies until their knuckles bled.
By the end of the session, Kenji’s muscles ached, and his mana reserves were nearly depleted. But as he sat on the ground, panting, a familiar blue screen appeared before him:
Kenji smiled despite the exhaustion. He was making progress, step by painful step.
As the days passed, Kenji and Gorruk found themselves locked in a fierce but unspoken competition. Every training session, every lesson, every hunt became a test of who could push themselves further.
Gorruk, with his natural strength and pride, often outperformed Kenji in physical tasks. But Kenji’s sharp mind and growing mastery of mana allowed him to outwit his rival more often than not.
“You’re too slow,” Kenji taunted one day, narrowly dodging a clumsy strike from the prince during sparring.
“And you’re too weak!” the Gorruk roared, his fist grazing Kenji’s shoulder with enough force to send him stumbling.
Grakk watched the exchange with a satisfied grunt. “Good. Fight harder. Push yourselves. Only through struggle will you grow.”
Later, that night, as Kenji lay on his straw bed, his body sore and his mind racing, the system’s voice echoed in his ears:
Kenji clenched his fists, determination flaring in his chest. This world was harsh and unforgiving. But if he was going to survive—if he was going to protect the ones he cared about—he had to grow stronger.
And he would.
One step at a time.
