After a few exchanges with Snowy, Nova stopped.
She looked at Maxwell and smiled, a mocking glint in her eyes.
"So, what did you learn?" she asked, her tone teasing but sharp.
"Simple," Maxwell said matter-of-factly. "Your entire combat technique is based on cold calculation—waiting for the enemy to attack before countering. And it heavily relies on using the opponent's force against them."
Nova frowned. She wasn't trying to hide it. Even though this was a makeshift technique she had created in the spur of the moment to spar with Snowy, it wasn't something just anyone could dissect so easily.
"Impressive," Nova admitted. "It seems you do have some skill."
"Wait—don't praise me yet. I'm not done," Maxwell said, turning to Snowy.
He began breaking down every single aspect of both their combat techniques—how they interrelated, what he observed as flaws, and how each could be improved.
As Maxwell continued, Nova's frown deepened.
What the hell? How does he know all this? Even the faults I didn't realize, he knows—and he knows how to counter them? This is unnatural.
Nova's unease grew.
Who is this guy? How can his comprehension be this strong? she wondered. Is he perhaps some master pretending to be naive just to exploit me?
She shook her head. That didn't make sense. If that were true, there would be no point in keeping her around—nothing she could do would matter. Could he be one of those old masters who refine the young for their talents? No… such a person could not be this stupid.
"Hey… who really are you?" Nova asked, her voice cold, detached.
Immediately, Maxwell felt the air around him turn ice-cold.
The biting chill that had plagued him since day one—but had disappeared earlier that morning—returned in full force.
"What the hell… who I am?" Maxwell panicked. "I'm just Maxwell, an Ophern who happened to come here by chance."
He had no idea what had caused Nova's sudden shift, but he knew one thing: to survive, he had to abandon pride and plead for his life.
Maxwell knelt on the ground.
"Please, Miss… Nova, I apologize for anything I might have done to offend you," he said, dropping all pretence of familiarity.
Nova remained calm. Her eyes narrowed, cold and assessing.
"There's nothing you can say to sway me," she stated calmly. "Just tell me—how were you able to understand mine and Snowy's combat techniques at a glance?"
"You have three seconds to tell the truth," she added, though deep down she was afraid.
What if my earlier thought was right? What if Maxwell really is some old monster? she worried. If so… he would make me regret ever speaking to him this way. But if I'm wrong… maybe I can learn something useful.
"What understanding? All I did was compare it with other combat techniques I knew and connect the dots—correcting errors and suggesting improvements," Maxwell answered honestly.
"Fine. If that's how you want to play, explain everything in perfect detail," Nova snorted coldly. She wasn't about to deny him the chance if he insisted.
Maxwell began. "It's complicated and can't easily be explained from the beginning, but I'll try my best."
"Sometime ago," he continued, "while I was still in the real world, I was called—"
"Are you insane?" Nova snapped, unable to understand how Maxwell could remain calm and almost playful in such a tense situation.
Her earlier suspicions seemed to confirm themselves with each word.
Maxwell pressed on. "I had been instructed by ???????? to learn countless combat techniques for up to two years. Thanks to that foundation, I can now connect the dots in other techniques almost instantly."
Nova's unease only deepened.
"Something isn't right… can you repeat the name you just said?" she asked, her voice tight.
"Sure… it's ????????," Maxwell replied.
A creeping sense of dread settled in Nova's chest.
Maxwell didn't hear the name as though something.
The world itself did not want her to know.
He should be dead! How is this happening again?.