Days turned into weeks, weeks into months. The lakeside kept changing, and It now seemed like a house without walls. A large bed, a small kitchen, a table with a single chair, a bookshelf full of tomes written in the exotic languages of Iliria all arranged in a precise and tasteful way around the deep blue pool of water.

On the other side of the lake, a shed, full of different tools, had its place. Around the shed, a calisthenic park had been built, with weighted vests, heavy belts, and a plethora of other types of equipment just lying around on the cavern floor.

On one of the pull-up bars, a black boxing bag hanged, the remains of its older brethren, torn open by a powerful force, could be seen, carelessly swept to the side by the man responsible for the deed.

Roy was currently doing a handstand, his beard kept in place by a hairband. The man's physique changed dramatically.

The thin physique of a healthy male in his sixties was replaced by a statuesque figure. Reading the text in the grand library had been the main reason for the change. The more he read, the more his mind tuned itself to the new world he was in, and in a never-ending cycle, his mind affected his body.

In Paths to Power 101, he found a really basic explanation about ether, one of the fundamental energies that impregnated this reality, and how it affected the three known paths that the various creatures of Iliria used to "upgrade" themselves.

Ether connected everything on a deep level, meaning that a big disparity between body, soul, and mind would be mitigated via a process really similar to osmosis. A strong mind and soul-influenced the body subtly, giving it the ability to improve much quicker and to reach and stay at its prime level.

A strong body would mean a sturdier soul and a faster mind until a point of equilibrium was reached. Various people during the ages experimented with how much training someone should do to maximize the benefits of this effect, but no consensus was reached, as talent still played quite a big role in how far someone could go, and the potential of everyone was different.

They did reach a consensus on how to train their youngest. Everyone would get an education in basic subjects, plus martial training, to understand which path would be the most beneficial for future growth.

This led Roy to constant adjustment to his schedule, and what started as a normal routine developed into something only a superhuman being could endure. Now, each day he trained until exhaustion, read until he could no longer keep his eyes open, and ate until he felt he would vomit.

He didn't keep track of the days and every time he felt he could no longer hold onto the crazy training schedule, he would simply take some time off, and do nothing but watch old cinematography in common Ilirian, the first language he managed to get a basic understanding of.

This led to crazy improvements for the man. His body kept developing, each time he looked at himself he saw more muscle being added and fat being burned. His skin was now taut over a slim and powerful figure, the wrinkles on his face less and less.

The first time he broke a boxing bag was after a full-blown session of rage. His crazy rhythm meant constant mental pressure, and that pressure developed in huge mood swings, usually being the last indicator of his exhaustion. He used them as a signal to take a break, and he saw the most improvement after those moments of temporary insanity.

The last punch he threw, a corkscrew right, impacted the center of the bag, tearing its outer layer apart and sending it flying for a good couple of yards.

The man took in the sight of his bleeding knuckles and went to bed with his mind clear. The next weeks saw him consuming more and more bags until he finally took the poplar wood and used it for conditioning his hands.

Now you could see the man savagely beating the plank, deep imprints left where his punches landed. The man was focused on his objective and with a scream, the last right snapped the plank in half. Finding himself with some gas left in the tank, the man proceeded to move onto the birch.

The time it took for each plank to be beaten started to be less and less. After another month the professor was on his last wooden obstacle, the ebony one.

This time, the wood held for a week, after which Roy took a longer pause. He was getting stronger, but something was bothering him.

He felt something different in his state of mind, a tranquillity he never had even in his past life. He couldn't grasp the feeling, so he turned towards the Grand library once again. He adjusted his schedule, leaving more time for his reading habit and resting for longer.

He noticed how much easier it was for him to understand Ilirian, and after another month he was able to read and write in the language at a level he considered proficient. He could finish a book in less than a couple of days, and so he started to turn his focus to the more advanced manuals.

He got his answer while reading a compendium titled: Harmony, the state of contentment.

"Sometimes, during their ascents towards greater heights, people experience something that can only be described as a rut. Once your body, your mind, and your soul reach Balance, you will feel like further improvement is meaningless, as the three paths tries are harmonized. This state is the first obstacle towards finding where your talent lies, as the Balance doesn't want to be broken. You will need to reach imbalance once again, even if that means sacrificing the happiness of harmonization. For scholars, it means to leave behind the body, for martial artists you can choose between soul and mind. Be careful, for when you start to progress again you will need to keep your mind clear, your soul tranquil and your body steady. If you do not, you may form an unconscious block, preventing further advancement in your chosen path."

The man closed the book and left the library with a somewhat sour expression. He knew he had to change something in his schedule, and for the first time since he found himself in the crucible, he found the notion unpleasant. His determination wavered for the next few days, as he once again started to spend more time training his body, and less and less time reading.

The pauses were few and far in between, and each time he felt rage rushing to his head, he would undress and jump into the lake. After another month of the insane routine, plank after plank of ebony wood blasted to pieces, the man felt something different again. It wasn't rage, and it wasn't tranquillity. Nor it was the mild displeasure at having his reading time took away from him.

He felt hunger. Starvation like he didn't eat for months on end, deprivation of energy of the highest order. He quickly summoned a feast for himself, and after eating a pantagruelic meal, he felt even more hungry than before.

This kept on for a while but after having the equivalent of a couple of eighteen courses dinners the hunger subsided, leaving Roy standing in front of a battlefield of empty plates and gnawed bones. The man looked at the messy scene in front of him, and with a confused sigh, headed for the library once again.

His first step hit the bedrock, and a resounding thump spread far and loud. The professor looked at his feet and noticed a deep print on the floor. The realization hit him. He felt emotional again, he consumed enough food for an army and he was suddenly much stronger than before.

The balance was broken, his hurdle surpassed. With a powerful shout, the man lunged at the ebony wood set up on the other side of the room. The man soared, laughing all the while. He jumped over the lake, over the gym equipment. Over the wood. With another thud, Roy impacted the wall of the cavern behind the ebony block that had been his main opponent for the last few weeks.

His laugh cut off the man slid down from the wall, a stupid expression on his beaten-up face. A smile could be seen on his lips. Carefully getting up, Roy turned towards the wood. He started with a plank, increasing its size and thickness each time he managed to break down the object.

What now stood in front of him was a cubic shape of dark ebony, as thick as a fridge. The man charged his left, and with a muted cry hit the wood in its center. His hand went through the cubic shape without even slowing down, the boney material collapsing into itself like wet sand.

The man freed himself from the wood, using his other hand like a hatchet to split it down the middle. He started at his hand, his grin never leaving his face. He gave himself a pass. He graduated from middle school, now it was time for him to enter the big leagues.

The next day was spent summoning cubic shapes of minerals and metals. The way forward was clear, his path was straight.

He would pierce through life, a star shooting from underground towards the wide world outside.