(Arin's Perspective)
The midday sun beat down mercilessly on the Academy, scorching the spirits of students training in the Martial Arts Practice Field. The clanging of metal and spirited shouts echoed through the air, a symphony of sweat and determination.
I stood before a training dummy made of solid oak. Sweat drenched my training uniform, turning the fabric dark. My breath was rhythmic, following the beat of my serum-enhanced heart.
Inhale... Hold...
I swung the standard iron sword in my hand with all my might, channeling Junior Aura into the blade.
CRACK!
The wooden dummy's head went flying, spinning three times in the air before smashing into the perimeter fence with a loud thud that startled everyone nearby.
Silence suddenly descended upon my immediate vicinity.
Every student on the training field turned. Their mouths hung open, eyes wide as they witnessed the destruction I had wrought.
I stared at the iron sword in my hand. The blade hadn't snapped, but it was bent at a bizarre ninety-degree angle, as if made of wax instead of steel.
If I had used this cheap practice sword against the Alpha yesterday instead of the Mithril-alloy blade, I would probably be dead. But was this the sword's fault for being weak? Or was I just too rough?
"Damn it," I cursed softly, tossing the bent sword onto the dirt. "One more time."
My hands trembled. Not from fatigue, but because my new muscles—the result of the Grizzly Serum mutation—were constantly screaming for release. The energy was overflowing, difficult to contain.
Every time I swung the sword, it felt like trying to mount a Wyvern engine onto a horse cart. The chassis simply couldn't handle the thrust.
This was why I often suffered internal injuries whenever I unleashed techniques above Junior level. My body was strong, but my control was a mess.
I grabbed a new sword from the weapon rack. Took my stance again.
CRACK!
"Dammit!" I cursed again.
Once more, the sword hilt shattered in my grip. The wooden overlay splintered into pieces. Regulating my Aura density was incredibly difficult.
I was accustomed to fighting with a style of 'minimal movement, maximum impact'. Striking the opponent's vital points with a single lethal blow was a fighting style suitable for a 'cripple' to survive.
Unfortunately, after my body density increased, the habits of my old fighting style still clung to me. This resulted in difficulty controlling my Aura with every swing. My muscles wanted to explode, but my technique held them back.
In the end, I reaped what I sowed. If not addressed immediately, my fighting style would become sloppy due to Aura and stamina waste.
"You eat bricks for breakfast, Boy?"
A heavy, rough voice came from behind. I turned toward the sound.
Instructor Brook, the burly Dwarf with a scar across his cheek, stood there with his arms crossed. He stared at the destroyed dummy, then looked at me with a deep frown.
"Instructor," I saluted stiffly. "I have a problem. My sword always feels... slippery. And every time I slash, my body feels like it wants to be thrown along with the swing."
Brook snorted, then walked closer. He picked up the bent sword from the ground, examining it briefly with a critical eye.
"Your problem isn't the slippery sword, Fool. Your problem is you have no brakes," he said curtly.
He tossed the sword onto the pile of broken weapons with a loud clang.
"Your strength has skyrocketed since the forest incident. But your brain is still using the old settings. You're used to exerting all your strength to survive, but you forget that your body control is now terrible."
"Then what should I do, Instructor? Reduce weight training?" I asked, confused.
"No. Weight training will only make you stronger but stiffer."
Brook bent down, picking up a dry leaf that had fallen from a tree at the edge of the field. He held it between two fingers.
"Starting today, forget the wooden dummy. Your training is changed. Slice this leaf in the air... without making a swish sound."
I gaped at the absurd request.
"That's impossible, Instructor. How can one slash without cutting the air?"
"Do it, or you'll break your own bones with your own strength before the semester exam starts. The choice is yours, Boy."
Brook released the leaf into the air. It drifted down slowly, dancing in the wind.
"Just try it first," he ordered.
I swallowed hard. I took a deep breath, then slashed at the leaf as fast as lightning.
WHOOSH!
The sound of wind was loud. The leaf was pushed away by the air pressure from my sword, moving further away without a single scratch.
"Fail," Brook commented flatly. "Too much power, zero feel."
One hour had passed. The sun climbed higher. Many students had already gone to the locker room for rest and lunch, but me? Still stubbornly standing in the middle of the field with a sword in hand.
Sweat flooded my body, dripping from my chin. But the leaf was still intact, not even slightly torn. This Micro-Control training was far more torturous than lifting 100 kilos.
I had to hold back 90% of my strength when Peak Junior Aura mode was active, and only use the remaining 10% with surgical precision.
Damn it! I could dissect a monster heart with high precision using a small scalpel. But what was this? I had to cut a floating leaf precisely using a two-kilo longsword.
I threw the leaf back into the air. Then I slashed again with my Junior Aura suppressed with all my might.
Whoosh.
The result? The same. The wind sound was still loud, though slightly quieter. The leaf still danced in the air as if mocking my incompetence.
"Boy! Compress that Aura, you have to control it! Don't let it explode out!" shouted Brook, who was still faithfully watching from the sidelines while munching on an apple. "When your Aura is at its peak, you must be able to hold it for at least seconds. Until you can do it as easily as breathing."
"Yes, Sir!" I shouted back, even though my lungs felt like bursting.
Brook walked closer, chewing the last piece of his apple.
"You're too tense. Relax your shoulders. Aura is like water in a pipe. If you press too hard, the pipe bursts. Flow it gently."
"'As easily as breathing' he says..." I muttered softly, wiping sweat from my forehead. "Easier said than done."
"Indeed. But that is the difference between a brawler and a swordsman. Which one do you want to be?"
Brook's words slapped my ego. He was right. I wanted to be a Knight, not a raging monster. I had to keep practicing until I didn't need to regulate deep breaths just to control aura intensity.
"Are you Arin?"
A sharp, clear voice broke my concentration.
I turned. On the edge of the field stood a girl radiating an aura different from other students. She stood tall with hands on her hips, staring at me sharply.
Fiery red hair tied in a high ponytail swayed in the wind. Her skin was slightly tanned, proof she spent more time under the sun than in the library.
She wore a modified training uniform. Her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, showing off toned and defined yet feminine arm muscles.
At her waist hung a Rapier with a golden hilt that looked elegant yet deadly.
Rose Carlos, a Class S student. Daughter of the Marquis Carlos family, famous as one of the best sword-knight families in the kingdom. And more importantly... Elena's childhood best friend.
"Correct," I answered while wiping sweat with my sleeve, trying to regulate my breathing. "What business does Lady Carlos have with this Cripple?"
Rose didn't smile. Her face was flat, cold as ice. She walked closer, her steps light and soundless like a cat stalking prey.
Her emerald green eyes stared at me sharply, as if scanning every inch of my body, looking for weaknesses.
"Elena told me everything," she said when the distance between us was only two meters. "About her illness you cured and about the ridiculous alliance between you two."
"Ridiculous? I think it's a mutually beneficial symbiosis, Lady," I replied calmly.
Her hand slowly lowered to her Rapier hilt. Her fingers tapped the golden guard with a threatening rhythm.
"I thank you for saving her life. Truly. But as her best friend since childhood, I have to ensure one thing."
"Ensure what?"
"Whether you are strong enough to stand by her side," Rose tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing.
"The Rhyms family has many enemies. If you are weak, you will only be Elena's weak point. Or worse, you're just a parasite hiding behind a Duke's daughter's skirt for your own safety," she stated firmly.
Those words were sharp, stabbing my pride. Parasite?
I sighed deeply, stabbing the tip of my sword into the ground. "Do we have to do this now? I just finished heavy training. Can we do it later when I'm fresh?"
Rose raised an eyebrow, smiling cynically. "Why? Are you scared? Or do you need Elena to protect you from this little 'test'?"
"..."
Damn! Was I destined to always be involved in disputes with arrogant nobles? After Karl Benzzi, now Rose Carlos.
I reconsidered whether forming an alliance with Elena was the right decision or just the beginning of a prolonged headache.
But I couldn't back down. If I refused, she would spread rumors that Elena's 'partner' was a coward. That would damage Elena's reputation too.
I pulled the dull practice sword from the ground. "Fine. If the Lady insists. But don't cry if your expensive uniform gets dirty with dust."
Rose's eyes flashed with anger. "Talk is cheap! Prove it with your sword!"
Other students still on the field began to gather, forming a large circle.
Duels between students were legal during break times, and the spectacle of Rose Carlos hazing Arin "The Cripple" was premium entertainment not to be missed.
"Haha, young blood is indeed amazing. Always full of fire," commented Brook, laughing heartily. He seemed entertained by this sudden duel, forgetting the outburst of emotion directed at me earlier during training.
"Alright, you may duel. I will be the referee. Standard rules: Winner is decided if the opponent surrenders or cannot rise within ten seconds. Lethal attacks to vital areas are forbidden."
Brook stepped into the center, raising his hand.
"Positions!"
I tightened my grip on my Longsword handle. The weight felt wrong in my hand. This steel sword felt as light as a wooden block.
That was my problem: I often swung too hard, throwing off my own balance.
In front of me, Rose stood in a perfect Rightguard stance. Her body turned sideways to minimize the target area. The tip of her Rapier pointed straight at my eyes, not wavering a single millimeter.
She was calm, calculated, and that made me nervous.
"Ready, Arin?" she asked flatly, her voice cold.
"Always," I answered briefly, trying to calm my heartbeat which began pumping adrenaline.
"Get set! One, two, three, START!" shouted Brook while swinging his hand down.
His voice was slightly drowned out by the enthusiastic cheers of the audience.
Rose started first. Not running, but gliding. Her feet moved in a beautiful and fast fencing step pattern. Her Rapier shot straight toward my chest like a snake strike.
Fast!
My instinct screamed, as if saying, 'Parry left!'
I swung my longsword to deflect the thrust. But, damn. Overpowered again. My swing was too wide and strong.
CLANG!
My sword indeed deflected her Rapier hard, throwing the girl's weapon to the side, but the momentum of my swing carried my body spinning slightly to the side, opening a fatal gap in my left ribs.
Rose did not waste my technical error. She didn't fight my sword's power; instead, she let her sword be deflected, then used her body rotation to close in.
Her left hand raised, palm open aiming at my exposed ribs.
"Too slow," she whispered.
A first circle magic circle glowed blue in her palm.
First Circle Magic: Mana Bullet.
A fist-sized ball of blue energy shot out from point-blank range. Too close to dodge.
BOOM!
The ball hit my chest plate squarely. It felt like being hit by a sledgehammer right in the solar plexus.
Normally, a person would fall backward or at least stumble back five steps clutching a tight chest. But my body density saved me. Dense muscle and bone absorbed the shock.
I only took one small step back, my boots screeching on the stone floor resisting the thrust force.
Rose jumped back to keep distance, her eyes widening in surprise.
"You... are tough," she commented, her face slightly shocked seeing me still standing upright without wincing in pain. "I thought your ribs would crack."
I patted my chest plate, slightly scorched by magic, then smiled wryly.
"Haha, this Princess won't show me mercy, huh! That shot hurt, Lady."
"Don't whine. That was just a warm-up," replied Rose, taking her stance again. This time her eyes were more serious. No more hesitation.
I sighed deeply, correcting my sword position.
It seemed my days would be more colorful and more painful from now on.