Chapter 61: Two Weeks Later!
Chapter 61
It had been two weeks now. Two weeks since Zen discovered that he had a Veil. During this time, he didn’t take up any missions. Instead, he decided to train as hard as he could, doing everything possible to force his Veil to react.
But no matter how much he pushed himself, the result remained the same. His Veil refused to activate. He was left powerless, relying only on his own body as he focused on sharpening his new speed and strength.
During these long weeks of training, Zen also decided to give himself a makeover.
What kind of makeover?
A physical one. He forced his body through a new routine: a hundred push-ups, countless squats, sit-ups, and a twenty-kilometre run.
Every single day.
And in between, he allowed himself only the bare minimum of rest before continuing again. He threw himself into it with such single-minded determination that, after just four days, his body began to adapt.
The others hardly saw him anymore. If he wasn’t in the training room practicing his system skills or attempting to master his sword techniques, then he was in his own room drilling through his exercises — push-ups, sit-ups, squats, over and over again until sweat drenched his clothes.
Hence, after two full weeks, the result of his rigorous routine finally bore fruit. In just a short span, Zen underwent a drastic change that turned his entire appearance around.
Before, he had looked like a twig. It was shocking that he had survived this long with a body that fragile. He was so thin, so frail, he looked malnourished, his eyes sunken as though he hadn’t eaten for days.
But now, after weeks of endless dedication, Zen’s body had transformed.
His once wiry frame now carried well-defined muscle along his arms, chest, and legs. His shoulders had broadened, his posture had straightened, and the way he moved carried a quiet aura of strength. His skin had tanned slightly from hours under the sun, and veins now traced faint lines along his forearms, standing out whenever he gripped his sword.
His face too had hardened. The softness it once carried was gone. His jawline had sharpened, his cheekbones stood out more prominently, giving him a more mature and battle-tested look.
Most noticeable of all was his gaze. His eyes no longer carried the same scattered, clueless energy they once had. His dark hair, now messier and often damp with sweat, framed eyes that had grown colder, sharper, filled with a quiet resolve honed through sheer grit and repetition.
Even when standing still, Zen radiated the presence of someone who had endured pain, someone who had pushed himself again and again past his own limits.
He even seemed taller, standing straighter and prouder than before. His body dripped with sweat as he looked at himself in the mirror, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly.
His black hair, with faint streaks of purple running through it, almost fell into his eyes, but he brushed it back quickly. Picking up a towel, he wiped the sweat from his face, never taking his eyes off the reflection staring back at him.
"Alright. That was fun while it lasted," Zen said to the mirror with a faint grin. "I can’t believe this is me. I don’t look pathetic anymore."
{Stop deceiving yourself. You are still as pathetic as ever. Even with an Essence Veil, it still feels like you have none. Lol!}
"Do you know one thing I’ve learned over these months?" Zen scoffed as he walked toward the bathroom. "It’s that I should stop wasting my breath replying to a useless, cowardly system that refuses to help me and instead nags like a woman."
He disappeared into the bathroom and, a few minutes later, stepped out again. His hair dripped with water, small droplets trailing down his neck as he wiped them away with his towel, his breathing calm but his thoughts restless.
’Two weeks of not seeing the others or going on a mission. Sheesh! I’m getting bored already. I think I should go grab a mission. Maybe a D rank or s... wait! What am I even thinking about?’ Zen muttered in his thoughts, his palm dragging across his face in frustration as he pulled on his newly fitted clothes.
’Why should I settle for a D ranked mission as a C ranker? That makes no sense. I know what I should do.’ He smiled faintly at his reflection.
His sharp gray eyes stared back at him, burning with quiet determination. He clenched his fists tightly, veins pressing lightly against his skin, and with one final glance at the mirror, he turned toward the door.
"Let’s go grab a C rank mission, shall we?" Zen grinned to himself as he stepped out of his room, his footsteps steady and confident.
__
The main hall was bustling as usual, the noise of chatter and laughter echoing across the wide space. Hunters moved in and out, some drinking, some shouting over card games, while others clustered around the quest boards snatching up available missions.
The atmosphere carried a mix of sweat, steel, and ale — the smell of warriors living rough, living loud. Those who usually formed squads had already gathered at their regular tables, their conversations flowing as naturally as the drinks in their mugs.
At one corner, seated together, were Jace, Kael, Aria, Zarin, and Erin.
The five had grown accustomed to going on missions as a unit ever since Zen stopped appearing. In the absence of his presence, their bond had deepened, although Erin remained as cold and blunt as ever.
"Honestly, I don’t know what’s up with Zen anymore." Aria sighed, delicately cutting into a piece of steak before lifting it to her mouth.
"Why do you care about that weakling so much?" Erin shot back sharply, one brow raised in disdain. Her voice carried the bite of ice. "Does it matter if you see him or not? Why the fuss?"
"Erin." Jace’s voice was calm, but the warning in it was clear. Erin turned her eyes toward him for a moment before deliberately looking away.
"Probably after that gate raid, he was too broken down," Kael mumbled with a shrug. "He must have lost the will to fight beasts again. That’s why we haven’t seen him around."
"Yeah. If it had been me facing a ridiculously strong B-rank boss , I would have lost my fighting spirit too. Especially considering how close I came to dying that day." Zarin sighed heavily, remembering the weight of that battle.
"That guy sure has a good heart and will," Jace added, his tone firm. "I don’t think something as simple as that would destroy his spirit."
"Can we just stop talking about Zen already?" Erin snapped, her voice carrying irritation now. "If he really was such a good guy or had some amazing fighting spirit, he’d be here right now, taking up missions for the clan instead of hiding in his room sulking like a kid."
"Chill, girl. What’s there to get so worked up about?" Aria asked, arching a brow.
"I’m worked up because you all keep wasting breath on someone who isn’t even here," Erin shot back, her annoyance flaring. "Instead of enjoying our food, you’d rather sing praises of a ghost. Now I’ve lost my appetite thanks to all of you."
With a sharp movement, she pushed back her chair and stood, her tone still edged with disdain.
"Tch! Have fun talking about a weakling." Erin turned as if to leave, but her feet froze mid-step.
Her eyes widened slightly. And she wasn’t the only one — the rest of the table stilled as well, their expressions shifting to shock.
Not because of Erin’s words.
But because of the figure standing right in front of her.
"Hey, guys," the figure greeted warmly, a relaxed smile curling his lips as he lifted his hand in a casual wave.
"Ze...Zen?!" Zarin stammered, his voice breaking with disbelief.