Isaac woke to the sound of bells.
Not real bells—a notification from the blue window flickering in the corner of his vision, cutting through the heavy silence of his small room:
[5:30 AM]
[Training Hall: Maintenance Complete]
[Opening: 6:00 AM]
He sat up slowly. His back ached from the lumpy mattress—the thin padding barely separating his body from the wooden frame beneath. Every night had been a small battle with discomfort, but he had grown used to worse.
In the real world, his body had been much weaker than this. Years spent in front of glowing screens. A hunched back. Tired eyes. Fingers moving across mouse and keyboard while muscles withered slowly, day by day.
This body?
Rank F. Weak. But real.
It moved. It breathed. It hurt.
And that meant it could be trained.
He rose from the bed. Made his way to the small basin in the corner—a simple metal fixture mounted on the stone wall. Washed his face with cold water. The shock woke him completely.
He dressed in the standard black uniform—the fabric slightly rough, but covered with a light protection spell. He felt it when he touched the material. A thin layer of mana woven into the fibers. Not strong, but better than nothing.
Checked his reflection in the cracked mirror.
Alright.
Today the real test begins.
---
The academy in the early morning was a completely different place.
Fog wrapped the stone courtyards like a thick white blanket. The air was cold, damp, carrying the smell of wet grass and old stone. The blue mana lamps were still lit, piercing through the fog with faint glow.
Isaac walked quickly through the empty corridors. There was no one at this hour—most students were still asleep, enjoying their last hours of rest before the official day began.
But he didn't have that luxury.
Only six days.
Six days before the entrance ceremony. Before the real story began. Before everything became... real.
He reached the northern courtyard twenty minutes before opening. Stood in the shadow beneath a massive tree, watching the entrance.
Students began gathering gradually. Some wore the black uniform like him. Others in civilian clothes—sports shirts, training pants, special shoes. There didn't seem to be a strict rule.
Random distribution. Different ranks. Different goals.
He spoke to no one. Just watched. Noted. Memorized faces.
Knowing who surrounds you is the first step to survival.
---
At exactly six, the massive doors opened.
Isaac entered with the first wave of students. The inner corridor was long, wide, illuminated by blue mana crystals mounted on the walls.
Then the corridor opened into the massive hall.
It was the size of a full football field—perhaps larger. The ceiling was incredibly high, disappearing into shadows. The floor was covered with different materials—sand in some sections, wooden flooring in others, gravel in a corner.
Left: The wide public arena. Multiple sparring rings marked by white lines on the ground. Fixed and moving wooden targets. Training weapons hanging on long racks—swords, spears, bows, axes.
Right: A long corridor running along the wall. Numbered wooden doors—1, 2, 3... up to 12—all almost identical.
The private rooms.
Isaac headed directly toward the right corridor. Ignored the public arena—too many eyes there. Too many questions.
His eyes passed over the doors until he reached Room 12—the last in the corridor. The farthest from the entrance. The least crowded.
He pulled out his card—the simple student card he received upon entering the academy—and swiped it on a small panel beside the door.
The blue window appeared:
[Card Accepted]
[Room 12: Available]
[Usage Duration: Unlimited]
The door opened with a soft sound.
He entered.
---
The room was more advanced than he expected.
Square-shaped, about four meters by four. The floor was made of smooth concrete, covered with a thin layer of synthetic rubber—for shock absorption, most likely. The walls were thick, covered with soundproofing materials.
In the center: a circular training platform, slightly raised above the ground.
On the left wall: moving targets hanging on iron rods—adjustable to move at different speeds.
On the right wall: a large touchscreen displaying a long menu of options.
In the corner: a weapon rack containing a variety—wooden swords of different lengths, daggers, short spears.
This... is much better than the public arena.
He approached the weapon rack. Chose a medium-length wooden sword, well-balanced. Touched it. Felt the roughness of the wood beneath his fingers.
Good. This will do.
He moved to the screen. Touched it lightly.
It lit up immediately:
[Welcome to Private Training Room]
[Select Training Mode:]
- Training Dummy
- Moving Targets
- Combat Simulation
- Free Training
Selected "Training Dummy".
A sub-menu appeared:
[Select Dummy Level:]
F - E - D - C - B - A
He looked
- Training Dummy
- Moving Targets
- Combat Simulation
- Free Training
Selected "Training Dummy".
A sub-menu appeared:
[Select Dummy Level:]
F - E - D - C - B - A
He looked at the options.
F... the lowest level.
Makes sense to start here.
Selected F.
---
A soft mechanical sound filled the room.
In the center of the platform, a circular opening appeared in the floor.
Something rose from it slowly.
A training dummy.
A humanoid metal frame, about 170 cm tall. Its joints were visible—shoulders, elbows, wrists, hips, knees. Its body was covered with a thin layer of gray rubbery material.
Its eyes—if they could be called eyes—were two small blue crystals in the position of a head.
In its right hand: a long wooden sword.
The blue window appeared above it:
[Dummy F: Activated]
[Mode: Defensive/Offensive]
[Begin when ready]
Isaac took a deep breath.
Raised his wooden sword. Entered a simple fighting stance—left foot forward, right foot back, sword in his right hand, left hand for balance.
"Begin."
---
The dummy attacked.
But slowly. A simple horizontal strike, easy to read.
Isaac dodged with a step back. Countered with a vertical strike of his own.
Hit the dummy's shoulder.
[Dummy F: Damaged 15%]
The dummy retreated a step. Then attacked again.
A diagonal strike from above.
Isaac raised his sword, blocked it. The vibration traveled to his arm—not strong, but present.
Weak.
This is level F?
He countered with a quick strike to the dummy's chest.
[Dummy F: Damaged 40%]
Three more strikes—shoulder, waist, leg.
[Dummy F: Subjugated]
[Time Elapsed: 38 seconds]
The dummy stopped. Sank back into the floor from where it came.
Isaac lowered his sword.
Too easy.
But that was without the blessing.
What if...?
---
He closed his eyes.
Focused on the blue window in his mind.
[Blessing: The Transcendent]
[Activate?]
[Yes] [No]
He hesitated for a brief moment.
Then chose.
[Yes]
---
The transformation was immediate.
His hair changed from black to silver, gleaming as if moonlight lived in every strand.
His eyes—from dull gray to pale glassy gray, cold, completely inhuman.
His body straightened on its own. His stance changed—more precise, more efficient, every muscle in the right place.
The sword in his hand felt lighter. Or perhaps his hand had become stronger.
He touched the screen again.
[Select Level: F - E - D - C - B - A]
Selected E.
---
[Dummy E: Activated]
The new dummy rose.
Slightly larger. Slightly faster. Its movements smoother.
It attacked—
—and his body moved.
He didn't think. He didn't decide.
Dodged with a smooth sidestep, as if the strike moved in slow motion.
Countered with a diagonal strike hitting the dummy's chest.
[Dummy E: Damaged 40%]
The dummy retreated. Repositioned. Attacked from a different angle—
—but his body was already there.
Blocked the strike at a perfect angle, deflected the force sideways. Countered with three consecutive strikes—chest, shoulder, knee.
Each strike precise. Each angle perfect.
[Dummy E: Damaged 90%]
Final strike to the head.
[Dummy E: Subjugated]
[Time Elapsed: 1 minute, 12 seconds]
Fast.
Efficient.
But...
He felt it again—the separation.
His body fought. He only watched.
Like watching a movie from the inside.
---
He raised the difficulty once more.
Touched the screen.
[Select Level: D]
A red warning window appeared:
[Warning: Level D exceeds recommended limit for Rank F]
[Do you wish to continue?]
He looked at the warning.
Exceeds recommended limit?
Good.
I want to know the limits of this blessing.
Selected [Yes].
---
[Dummy D: Activated]
The new dummy rose.
Almost the same size.
But its movement... different.
Natural.
As if it were thinking.
It stood in a fighting stance—not rigid, but fluid. Its sword raised at a defensive/offensive angle.
Its blue eyes flickered.
It attacked.
---
The first strike was fast.
A direct thrust toward his chest.
His body dodged by mere millimeters—he felt the air pass beside his cheek.
Countered with a diagonal strike—
—but the dummy blocked it.
[Dummy D: No Damage]
Ah.
The dummy didn't wait. Attacked again—a fast horizontal strike.
His body jumped back, then forward immediately—using the moment after the strike ended—to attack from below.
[Dummy D: Damaged 10%]
But the dummy spun quickly. A side kick.
His body raised his arm, blocked the kick. The shock traveled through his bones.
Strong.
---
The fight continued.
Strike. Block. Counter-attack. Dodge. Spin.
Dummy D was equal to his blessing-enhanced body.
Neither superior. Neither inferior.
Perfectly equal.
Isaac—or rather, his body—immersed himself.
No longer felt time passing. No longer thought about seconds. Only the fight—
Its attack.
His defense.
His counter.
Its dodge.
An endless circle.
---
The third minute.
Sweat began forming on the body's forehead. Breathing quickened slightly.
The dummy tested him. Attacked from a low angle—a strike targeting his leg.
His body jumped back, landed with perfect balance, countered with a horizontal strike.
[Dummy D: Damaged 20%]
But it wasn't enough.
The dummy recovered quickly. Repositioned. Attacked with greater force—a heavy vertical strike.
His body blocked it—but the force was immense. His knees bent slightly under the pressure.
---
The fourth minute.
The dummy found an opening.
A strike so fast—a direct thrust toward his left shoulder.
His body dodged at the last moment—barely—but the wooden sword scratched his shoulder.
A faint pain.
But he felt it.
Even in autopilot mode, pain is real.
---
The fifth minute.
The equilibrium continued. Neither advanced. Neither retreated.
Strike versus strike. Defense versus attack.
Perfect balance.
---
The sixth minute.
The dummy didn't look tired—because it was a machine. It doesn't tire. It doesn't slow down.
But the body?
The body is human.
Even with the blessing, even with perfect execution, energy is limited.
---
The seventh minute.
His body began lagging.
A millimeter here.
A fraction of a second there.
Small details.
But they accumulated.
---
The eighth minute.
The dummy attacked with force—a heavy horizontal strike.
His body blocked it—but the vibration traveled through his arm, through his shoulder, through his spine.
No.
Not now.
Continue.
---
The ninth minute.
The dummy attacked—a vertical strike with full force, targeting the chest directly.
His body didn't dodge.
Instead—
Received the attack with his sword, blocked it at a perfect angle, deflected sideways, used the force to spin—
—and entered the dummy's range.
Too close. Too close for it to use its sword effectively.
And found it.
An opening.
Small. But present.
---
A precise wooden strike hit the knee joint from the side.
The dummy staggered. Its balance wavered.
Second strike—chest.
Third—head.
[Dummy D: Damaged 80%]
[Dummy D: Damaged 100%]
[Dummy D: Subjugated]
[Time Elapsed: 9 minutes, 47 seconds]
---
The moment the dummy submitted—
—Isaac canceled the blessing.
[Cancel Activation]
---
His body stopped immediately.
Control returned—
—and collapsed.
His knees lost all strength. His hands trembled violently. The sword fell from his grip, hitting the floor with a hollow wooden sound.
He fell on the platform—on his knees first, then on his side.
Tried to breathe.
But his lungs refused.
Damn.
Damn damn damn.
He felt as if someone drained all energy from his body at once. As if he ran a full marathon in nine minutes.
Every muscle burned.
Every joint screamed.
His head spun.
---
Tried to rise.
Failed.
His arms didn't respond.
Tried again.
Fell on his face.
The concrete floor cold against his cheek.
The world fading.
The edges numb.
No.
Not now.
Stay awake.
Stay—
---
Darkness.
---
Silence.
---
Cold.
---
He woke on his back.
The room was quiet.
The blue lights in the ceiling were dim now—perhaps evening mode?
He looked at the screen on the wall.
[Current Time: 2:15 PM]
[Blessing: The Transcendent]
[Duration Used: 9 minutes, 47 seconds]
[Status: Cancelled]
[Note: Exceeded safe limit - Severe Exhaustion]
2:15 PM?
I was out for... eight and a half hours?
He tried to sit up. His body protested violently. Every muscle complained. As if he fought the Demon King again—but this time, the body was real and the pain was real.
He rose slowly—painfully slow. Leaned against the wall. His legs trembled.
Thirsty.
Searched for water. Found a small faucet in the corner of the room—for emergencies, probably. Drank greedily. The cold water went down his dry throat like mercy.
---
He left the room slowly.
The corridor was empty now. Most students had left—perhaps official training hours had ended.
He leaned against the wall, walked unsteadily, step by step.
From the gap under the arena door, he saw it was crowded now—students training, talking, laughing.
Ignored them.
---
He saw Arthur leaving the adjacent room—Room 11.
Clean. Refreshed. His white uniform still perfectly neat. As if he hadn't trained for nine hours. As if he simply entered and left.
Arthur looked around—a quick, assessing glance.
Saw Isaac.
A student F leaning against the wall, looking completely exhausted.
He said nothing.
Didn't ask.
Just left quietly.
---
Isaac returned to Stone Hall.
The bare stone corridors. The narrow stairs. Room 49.
Opened the door.
Fell on the bed.
Didn't write a list. Didn't think. Didn't plan.
Just...
Slept.
---