"That was one hell of a first class," Lennon said as they exited the hall.
Two hours of information had been crammed into their brains; it was no wonder he was completely drained. They all were, Kenneth included.
"Still, it was interesting. I never got to learn the theoretical sides of my abilities. I feel like I understand them a lot better now." He continued.
Kenneth nodded in agreement. It was one thing doing research, but it was another learning it first-hand.
"I'm excited for next class. We'll finally be talking about compatibility," Fae gushed, her hair bouncing excitedly with her.
Andrei's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Why do you care about stuff like that so much?"
She turned to look at him, eyes wide. "How can you not?! It's always been my dream to form a pair with a strong and dependable Striker. There's something so romantic about it." She smiled, her cheeks painted in a beautiful blush.
Yoosung rolled his eyes when he heard this. "How is getting paired with a random stranger romantic?"
"That's how all relationships start, silly goose." Fae said."
"Is that so," he replied in a tone that seemed to wave off whatever she was saying as uninteresting. This made Fae grumble under her breath, complaining about how heartless he could be sometimes.
Kenneth found their interactions amusing. "What do you guys have next?" he asked, attempting to make conversation.
They all looked down at their schedules and all reacted the same way. "What's wrong?"
"Uh…do any of you guys know what TTC means?"
Lennon's question prompted him to check his own schedule.
Tuesday:
Intro to …. - 9:00 AM
TTC - 11:10 AM
Anchor Counselling - 2:00 PM
He frowned. "I guess we have the same class."
As they were left to wonder, the scowling giant with golden eyes walked past, almost briskly, muttering, "TTC means Tactical Training Course, dumbass." Under his breath.
They all blinked. "...Did this dude just…"
Yoosung shook his head. "We don't have time to waste on that asshole. Class starts in ten minutes, and if this is a tactical course, then it means we need to get changed, ASAP."
The group didn't waste any time as they headed for their dorms, got changed and met each other downstairs, where they headed for the Building.
Tactical training was one of the most important classes since it measured the student's ability to work in the field and be assigned missions in the future. Kenneth was still unclear as to what these missions entailed, but he was certain they would find out soon enough.
There were four buildings in the entire campus that had a tactical room with the sole purpose of training: the Tyr Building, Mars, Morrigan, and Eris. Their group was located in the Morrigan Building, Room 104.
The moment they stepped inside, Kenneth could feel a shift in the energy. He could tell right away this class wouldn't be anything like the one they'd just taken, and his blood pumped with excitement at the prospect of getting to move his body again. According to Lennon, this class was meant not only to test the students but also to assess their baseline strengths and see what needed to be improved.
The room itself was massive, roughly half the size of a stadium, with ceilings that seemed to stretch and go on forever. The walls were made entirely of reinforced glass, creating an impenetrable barrier around them. Along the walls, racks of weaponry stood in precise order: rifles with sleek matte barrels, sidearms, shock batons, compact energy launchers, and other devices he didn't recognize but looked just as tempting to wield as the others.
Training drones hung from the ceiling rails, and the lighting was harsh, unforgivably white, giving the room an even colder feel. Kenneth's eyes flickered with excitement, barely containing the delight and anticipation he felt. "Incredible," he muttered under his breath, unable to contain himself.
He was already cataloguing the models, tracing the edges of the rifles and noting the weight distributions just from sight alone. His fingers twitched, itching to touch the weapons.
Across the training floor, glass partitions divided the space into smaller sections—simulation pods, sparring rings, marksmanship corridors, and neural-sync testing bays. Each subroom had its own purpose, all of it leading up to one thing: combat readiness.
Most of the students, however, didn't share his enthusiasm. The sheer scale and sterility of the room sent an unconscious shiver down their spines. Some fidgeted with the hems of their uniforms; others whispered quietly, their voices swallowed by the acoustics. Kenneth counted roughly thirty of them in total, arranged in neat lines.
They all waited for their instructor to walk in, and didn't have to wait long as they heard heavy footsteps enter the room. They all turned, almost in unison, as the man walked all the way to the centre before turning to fix them with a hard glare.
"Shit, man," Lennon whispered to Kenneth. "This guy is no joke."
Damn straight, Kenneth thought.
The instructor stood there with his hands clasped behind his back, towering over them like a monolith. He had to be at least 6'5, broad-shouldered and built like he could crush steel with his bare hands. His skin was a deep bronze, the kind that caught the sterile light and turned it to something fierce. Long locs, dyed a dark, stormy blue, were tied neatly back into a ponytail that fell between his shoulder blades.
His eyes, however, were what silenced the room: black and cold, like twin suns that had burned too long.
He paced slowly across the line of students, his boots striking the floor in rhythmic, deliberate steps. Every few seconds, he would stop to look someone dead in the eye. No one dared look back for long. When he halted in front of a boy near the edge of the group, a scrawny first-year with trembling hands, the silence grew unbearable.
The instructor tilted his head slightly, gaze unmoving. The boy paled several shades lighter, shoulders stiff as a board. For a moment, it looked like he might faint if the man so much as blinked.
The instructor's voice rolled through the space like a controlled explosion. "Welcome to Tactical Training Course," he said. "The class most of you will likely fail. "From this point on, you'll learn how to survive, fight, and think under pressure. Out there—" he pointed toward the far glass wall, where the reflection of their uneasy faces stared back at them, "—there won't be anyone to babysit you. You either adapt or you die."
The room went still again. Even Kenneth, for all his intrigue, felt the gravity settle over his chest.
"My name is Alexi Matthews, and I'll be your instructor for this class. We will be conducting a series of tests in order to better assess your level. We will be judging you based on three criteria. The first one being speed, the second, wielding weapons and third, combat."
After looking down at the poor boy who was still trembling, he moved away from him and went back to his original position."Let's not waste any time." He pulled out what looked to be a remote from his pocket. Pressing the button, the room started to change. They were now met with a makeshift obstacle of sorts with targets, drone dummies and the like.
The most exciting of all was the racks of weapons. A few more had appeared, this time ranging from swords, shortblades, daggers, and even axes. It was a weapon-hater's worst nightmare.
"We'll be starting with weapons. One by one, I'll call each of you to showcase your skills with the weapons you are the most comfortable with. Once completed, we will move on to the next stage. Let's begin."
"What in the…" Lennon exclaimed.
Andrei grinned. "Guess this guy doesn't like wasting time," he said.
"Still, he could at least give us time to warm up or something," Fae added.
Kenneth shrugged. He didn't mind getting straight to it. His body had been itching to move for a while now, so this was fine with him.
They all cleared the area and sat at the corner of the room and waited as their names were called. The energy was high with tension as the students silently hoped they wouldn't be the first ones to go out there.
Kenneth looked to his right and saw Lennon and Fae holding on with bated breaths while Yoosung stared ahead, his face impassive, while Andrei had a lazy smile on his.
His staring was interrupted by Instructor Alexi's booming voice calling out the first name: "Durian Black. Step forward."
Everyone turned to look at the scowling giant almost simultaneously. The first pick, the sacrificial lamb, only this time, the giant didn't have a resting scowl like usual. In fact, he had quite the mean grin adorning his face, and a vicious glint in his eyes that made some of the students flinch. Fae followed everyone's gaze and couldn't help following the man with her eyes.
Yoosung, ever the observant fellow, narrowed his slightly angled eyes that curved with faint amusement as he watched how intently Fae had been staring at Durian. There was a mix of curiosity and attentiveness hidden beneath her molasses gaze.
"I didn't know men like that were your type, Fae," he remarked as he eyed the scowling giant.
A flattering blush coloured her face. "H-He is not, what are you saying!"
"Alright, my mistake then. I was just wondering what about that oaf made it worth staring at," he said briskly.
Andrei patted Yoosung on the shoulder, giving him a disapproving look. "You shouldn't tease Fae like that, Yoosung. Just look at her, she is on the verge of exploding."
The young woman in question shot Andrei a sharp look, which he ignored. Luckily for her, their attention was directed back to Durian, who sauntered towards the weapon rack like he was going on a casual stroll. His eyes swept across the blades until he landed on a large axe that was about the height of the average human male. Without another thought, he grabbed it, holding it tightly in his hands before stepping towards the row of dummy drones, waiting to be butchered.
"Whenever you're ready," Instructor Matthews said.
He grunted in response, and the instructor took it as his cue to begin the test. The rules were simple. He needed to defeat as many dummies as he could before the allotted time ran out.
A giant timer appeared just above them. He had ten minutes. He wasn't given an exact number of dummies to defeat, but Durian didn't care. As long as he got to swing his axe, he was more than fine.
The timer began, and the rows of dummies began to move. It started slowly at first. One dummy came straight at him, and Durian was able to swing his axe in one swift motion and slice its head off. Kenneth watched with keen interest as the towering man moved with an agility that didn't suit his height or stature.
Another dummy lunged. Then another. Durian pivoted on his heel, his movements fluid despite the sheer weight of the weapon in his hands. The next two fell with a single arc of his axe, the hum of metal against the synthetic air echoing through the training hall. For the first minute, it almost looked effortless, like he was swatting flies with a fly swatter. Each strike came down with precision and ferocity, the dummies shattering under the force of his blows. When three came at him at once, he barely flinched, spinning the axe like a staff and knocking backwards before cleaving through the other two. The others watched in silence, awestruck.
"Remind me never to piss this guy off," Lennon muttered beside Kenneth.
Kenneth didn't reply. He was too focused on the way Durian moved, how he used his surroundings, the timing of his steps. He couldn't believe a kid this young was able to fight like this. His battle IQ was through the roof, and his understanding of space was incredible. Though he looked kind of showy from where he sat, Kenneth could tell not a single move was wasted. Everything had a purpose.
But then, at the two-minute mark, the system adjusted. The dummies' pace doubled. Ten of them advanced at once, rushing him from different angles. The floor panels glowed faintly as their movement algorithms recalibrated, and soon the air was filled with the sound of metal feet pounding in unison. While most people would panic when faced with multiple opponents like this, especially without warning, Durian's grin widened. He was not like most people.
A student watched with wide eyes, muttering under his breath, "This guy is insane."
He swung the axe in a broad, upward sweep, catching one dummy mid-leap and sending it crashing into two others. Another tried to flank him. He spun and drove the blunt end of the axe into its chest, the impact cracking its synthetic plating. He kicked it away, then slammed the weapon's handle into the jaw of another.
Every motion was brutal, economical. Instructor Matthew's brows tightened. The timer read 6:45.
The students were quiet except for the rhythmic clang of metal and the dull hum of dummies regenerating. Kenneth could feel his pulse matching the tempo of the fight.
Then the system escalated again. The next wave came in thick, fifteen dummies, each moving faster than before. They didn't just charge at him; they coordinated, spreading out, circling, adapting. Durian's grin turned feral. He crouched slightly, readjusting his grip.
Fae leaned in unconsciously, her eyes strained on him as he breathed, "Let's go," almost laughing under his breath.
He surged forward, meeting them head-on. One dummy swung from the right. He blocked with the axe's flat, then spun and drove the butt of the handle into another's neck. He vaulted over a third, landing in a crouch and sweeping its legs out before driving the blade down through its torso.
When one grabbed his arm from behind, he slammed his elbow backwards, twisted, and brought the axe up in a sharp, upward cleave that split it in two. The weapon wasn't just an axe in his hands. It was an extension of himself.
Kenneth glanced at the timer again. Five minutes left. And the dummies weren't stopping.