I got to combat class, and to my surprise, the instructor was Charon.
Damn. I didn't want to see him again—his intuition was too good.
I caught a glimpse of Trace and Cedrick. Of course they were here.
Whispers floated behind me.
"What's the liar doing here?"
"He's getting last place in combat too."
I had to focus without giving away too much.
"Alright, class."
Those two words alone silenced the room. Any lingering murmurs vanished.
"Here," Charon said, pointing to a hit bag, "you'll practice striking this. Every hit earns a score. Twelve to eighteen is the best of the best, especially at your rank. Eight to ten is good. Anything lower… regular human strength."
I had no combat experience. No physical strength. Perfect.
I drifted toward the back, keeping out of sight. Only a few students were paying attention—and even fewer cared about me.
I glanced down at my shadow. It waved excitedly, then pointed at itself, then at me. It scanned itself from head to toe, then me.
Do you want me to wear you? I asked in my mind.
It shook its head—yes—and threw its hands in the air like it had been waiting for this moment forever.
I rolled my eyes and smirked. Great. Even my shadow has more personality than I do today.
"Okay," I muttered, annoyed. "Stop acting like I already know my ability."
The shadow shrugged, almost smug. I shook my head. I swear, you're going to get me in trouble one day.
I crouched slightly, focusing on the hit bag in front of me. Time to figure out how to survive combat… and maybe prove I wasn't a complete joke.
First up was Trace. She scored a 14.
Damn, I thought. Expected from the heir—but still shocking. Especially since none of us had fully awakened yet.
Whispers rippled through the crowd. "Awws," floating in admiration.
One kid shouted, "Show them, Cedrick!"
Charon's voice cut through. "Very impressive, Miss Star. Who would like to go next?"
"I would, brother," Cedrick said.
My eyes widened, and my shoulders slumped. How had I not noticed the resemblance? Same hair color, similar facial features…
"That's Professor Helstin to you. Strictly teacher and student here," Charon added.
"Yes, sir," Cedrick replied, stiff and formal.
Cedrick squared up to the bag, pivoted his left foot, and struck with a strong right hook.
Of course he'd been trained. Fast, controlled, powerful.
Twelve.
The number flashed.
"Good, Mr. Helstin," Charon said, sternly.
Again and again, students went up. Eights and nines, occasionally tens, but no one reached twelve—let alone fourteen.
Cedrick looked proud, his group cheering loudly.
They look like cheerleaders, I muttered, almost hysterical.
My shadow moved, almost as if laughing at what I'd said.
I'm not wrong, I told him. He nodded in agreement.
I scanned the room. Trace was in the back, easy to spot despite keeping to herself. Her performance drew attention without words. I couldn't help but wonder what she was thinking.
Minutes later, my name was called.
"Asher," Charon said. "Step up to the front."
All eyes turned toward me—some filled with pity, others with barely concealed amusement.
I willed my shadow to come forward. It enveloped my body. No outward change, yet I felt… different. Stronger. Lighter. Sharper.
Charon watched carefully.
"Whenever you're ready."
I didn't know exactly how strong I was—and I didn't want to go all out.
When the shadow passed through my body, every fiber of my being surged with strength. But it didn't feel ordinary. It wasn't raw power or brute force. As it engulfed me, it felt like it was guiding me.
We were one and the same.
Every movement it made was linked to me—clenching my fists, turning my hips, aligning my stance. This wasn't just an ability.
It was a part of me.
No—it was me.
For the first time, my body felt… complete.
I squared up, mirroring Cedrick's stance, copying every movement. As I contracted my muscles, I felt lighter. Stronger. Every fiber, every tendon—my strength multiplied tenfold.
Then I struck.
I held back. A lot more than I wanted to. Because I could feel my own power.
The numbers flashed in bold.
11
For a split second, I was ecstatic. A smile tugged at my lips—
Then realization hit.
My face went pale, my stomach dropping as if I'd been punched instead. 11.
"That's the third-highest score," Professor Charon said, his tone straightforward—yet cautious.
So much for discreet, I thought, panic flooding in.
I immediately ordered my shadow to detach. It peeled away reluctantly, and the strength vanished just as fast as it had come.
Whispers erupted.
"Impossible…"
"He cheated…"
"There's no way…"
I hope they keep believing that, I thought, unease crawling up my spine.
"Asher," Charon said, cutting through the noise. "Congratulations on the turning event."
Then, louder—final.
"Next."
As I walked back behind the crowd, eyes followed me. Some stared in disbelief. Others in suspicion.
But one person was impossible to miss.
Trace.
When she stepped up beside me, my face flushed despite myself. She leaned in slightly, her voice low as the rest of the class continued striking the machine.
"How much were you holding back, Asher?"
"Uh—what?" I said, scoffing lightly, feigning confusion.
"You pulled your punch," she replied calmly. "And trust me—if I noticed, Charon did too."
Panic flared, sharp and immediate—but I kept my expression neutral.
"I don't know what you think you saw," I said nonchalantly, "but trust me, I'm just as surprised as you are."
"Listen, Asher," she said in a steady tone. "I'll help you blend in—because you obviously need help with your social skills—if you agree to be my training partner for this class."
"Uh… are you being serious?" I asked, then scoffed lightly. "I don't see you making friends either."
"That's by choice," she replied calmly. "But I understand social standing. And I also know you're clearly trying to keep a low profile."
I hesitated. "…Okay, true. But why? What do you get out of it?"
She smirked. "I get a training partner who's strong. And someone who won't ask me too many questions about myself."
"Was that a smirk?" I asked, genuinely surprised, my tone half-sarcastic.
"What?" she said, almost annoyed. "I can't be a little excited?"
"You can," I said, grinning. "It's just—by the way you're always closed off, I thought that was impossible."
She shot me a glare. "Not funny."
I raised my hands slightly. "Worth a try."
She met my eyes. "So. Do we have a deal?"
"Yeah," I said, confidence settling in. "We do."
My shadow looked up at me and nodded approvingly. If it had a mouth, I knew it would be smiling.
"Don't look at me like that," I muttered, embarrassed.
"All right, class," Charon said, his voice loud and stern. "That's enough for today. Return to your rooms and prepare yourselves. Tomorrow, we begin combat."
The room stilled.
"I hope you've all started forming companions to train with," he continued. "They will be your sparring partners for the remainder of this course."
A pause.
"Dismissed."
By the time I reached my room, I was exhausted—physically and mentally. My head throbbed, thoughts tangling over everything I'd learned: combat forms, movement, survival, language. It all felt like too much, packed into a single day.
I collapsed onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.
I needed sleep.