Two years passed.
Not like in stories—with a single flash and sudden power.
No… I lived every single day of it.
🌄 The Change
When I opened my eyes now, the "animation" and "reality" had started to merge.
I no longer saw two separate worlds.
I understood both.
I stood up—and this time, my body felt different.
Stronger.
My arms weren't thin anymore. Lean muscles had formed from endless lifting, hunting, surviving. My shoulders had broadened. My height had stretched just enough to no longer look like a helpless child.
Not impressive…
But no longer weak.
My hands told the real story—covered in small scars, rough skin, cuts that never fully healed.
Each one had a memory.
Each one had a price.
🌲 Hunting Alone
At first, I used to follow others.
Now?
I went alone.
The forest didn't feel like a background anymore. It felt alive… watching.
Every sound mattered.
Every shadow could kill.
I crouched low, breath steady, eyes locked on movement in the bushes.
For a moment—
Yes, that familiar shift came again.
The scene sharpened like animation. The prey slowed. My movement became precise, calculated… almost perfect.
Then I moved.
Fast.
The knife struck.
The illusion vanished.
Blood. Struggle. Reality.
No dramatic victory.
Only survival.
I had faced things most village children never would.
A low-level spirit beast lunging without warning
Nights where I hid in trees, too afraid to sleep
Hunger so intense it made my hands shake
There was no teacher.
No protection.
Only instinct… and will.
🧍 The Way I Changed
People in the village noticed.
Not because I spoke more.
But because I spoke less.
I stopped complaining.
Stopped expecting.
Stopped… hoping for help.
My eyes changed first.
Calm.
Observing.
Cold when needed.
I wasn't a child anymore.
Not here.
🏙️ First Time Seeing the City
The first time I went near a city… I understood something important.
Power doesn't just protect.
It separates.
Spirit Masters walked differently.
Clothes clean. Steps confident. Eyes looking above others—not at them.
Villagers like us?
We were invisible.
Or worse…
We were useful.
⚖️ The Reality of Spirit Masters & Nobles
I had imagined them as heroes once.
That illusion broke quickly.
From what I saw—and what history has always shown, even in our world—
Powerful people don't treat the weak equally.
Not usually.
Not naturally.
Most Spirit Masters behaved like nobles in old times:
They expected respect without giving it
They saw villagers as labor, not people
They spoke to us, not with us
Some ignored us completely… others showed open disdain
Kind ones existed.
But they were rare.
And rarity doesn't define reality.
I once saw a Spirit Master push aside an old villager just for standing in the way.
No apology.
No pause.
Just a look that said—
"You don't matter."
That moment stayed with me more than any fight.
💭 What I Realized
Strength isn't just about fighting beasts.
It's about position.
Status.
The right to exist without being stepped on.
In stories, power brings glory.
In reality?
Power decides who gets treated like a human.
🌙 My Resolve
That night, I didn't see animation anymore.
No cinematic glow.
No heroic background.
Just darkness… and truth.
I looked at my hands—stronger now, but still far from enough.
If I stay weak…
I'll always be that villager.
Ignored.
Used.
Disrespected.
So I made a decision.
Not emotional.
Not dramatic.
Just… clear.
I won't just become stronger to survive.
I'll become strong enough—
That no one can look at me the way they look at villagers now.
And when that day comes…
I won't forget what it felt like to be on this side.