Chapter 33: Janitorial Awakening
The knight, still gasping for breath, clutched his ribs and tried to stabilize his legs.
He had fought many—students, rebels, deserters, even Academy elites in spars—but none had left him feeling like this. Not from pain alone, but from the weight of sheer bewilderment.
He blinked at Wesley, who still stood silently with the mop in hand, the anger in his eyes smoldering but not extinguished.
The knight had to admit—he hadn’t just underestimated the kid. He had misjudged something deeper.
What kind of training did this kid undergo...?
His thoughts spun.
The knight recalled other Mana-less noble offspring he’d encountered in the past.
Many noble houses had children who failed to awaken Mana and were quietly discarded to distant lands, given false posts or titles to save face. It was common knowledge.
One Baron’s son—weak, soft-spoken—had a predictable form. Overreliant on swordplay that never had the edge of real combat.
The knight remembered training with him: his swings too calculated, too hollow. A child mimicking moves he saw from his father’s soldiers.
He remembered a Viscount’s daughter who was sent to scrub floors in a mountain monastery because she couldn’t awaken Mana by fifteen. She had some spirit, yes, but her footwork always wavered when pressed. Even her will cracked when the spar turned real. The moment pressure rose, her stance collapsed.