The library towered at the center of the academy, an imposing structure of dark stone and gleaming glass.
Inside, its floors spiraled upward, each tier marked with metallic inscriptions: F, E, D, C, and finally B. The higher the floor, the more valuable the knowledge stored there.
For cadets like Roland, only the F-Tier was accessible, its shelves packed with foundational texts—combat techniques, essence theory, and historical accounts of great battles.
The air inside the library was cool, the faint hum of essence-powered lights casting a sterile glow over the rows of books and digital archives.
It was a Saturday and Roland stood at the threshold of the F-Tier floor, his gaze sweeping over the sea of knowledge.
He felt a sense of quiet determination. For someone like him—an Empty in the eyes of many—knowledge could be as sharp a weapon as any blade.
He spent the entire day combing through the shelves, selecting texts that resonated with him.
Titles like Combat Prowess Through Agility and Elemental Synchronization: A Beginner's Guide filled his arms.
One book, Shadows in Motion: Tactics for the Elusive Fighter, caught his eye.
He flipped through its pages, his pulse quickening as the techniques described within seemed to echo the instincts he'd honed in his struggles to survive.
As he read, Roland's mind churned with possibilities. The descriptions of shadow-based maneuvers and evasive tactics felt tailored to his burgeoning abilities, even if they weren't explicitly written for his specific ability.
By the time the library dimmed its lights, signaling the end of the day, Roland left with a stack of borrowed books and a growing sense of purpose.
The day after the next, Monday afternoon, the training grounds buzzed with anticipation. the current lesson was Abyssal Weapons Training (AWT).
Rows of weapon racks lined the field, each holding gleaming blades, blunt weapons, and polearms.
Most were F-tier, ranging from one to four stars, but the students who brought their own weapons flaunted their higher-tier armaments.
Roland's gaze swept over the selection, his eyes settling on a pair of dual daggers.
The weapons were simple yet elegant, their polished edges reflecting the sunlight. Their balanced weight felt natural in his hands.
Nearby, Cole stretched his arms, his trademark grin firmly in place. Strapped to his forearms were crimson gauntlets, their jagged edges glowing faintly.
"D-tier, straight from home," he boasted, flexing his fingers. "Perfect for turning that Braxion guy into dust."
Roland couldn't help but chuckle. "You seem confident."
"I've been waiting for this," Cole replied.
The Frost twins were there as well, their matching katanas catching the light as eye-catching as their beauty.
Ava stood apart from the others, her expression as icy as ever. Eva, by contrast, offered Roland a brief nod before turning her attention back to her weapon.
Most of the nobles and merchants had brought personal weapons, their designs ornate and expensive.
Roland noticed Braxion among them, his twin arm blades gleaming with serrated edges. He wore his usual smug expression as he sized up the competition.
The instructor, General Danik with a booming voice, called the class to order.
"Today, we focus on fundamentals. No essence allowed. I want to see what you can do with steel alone."
The matches began quickly, and the first pairing drew everyone's attention: Cole versus Braxion.
Braxion stepped into the ring, his arm blades humming faintly as he spun them in a flourish. "Ready for a rematch, fire boy?" he sneered.
Cole's grin widened as he cracked his knuckles. "I've been ready since the last time."
The whistle blew, and Braxion charged, his blades slicing through the air. But this time, Cole was prepared.
He ducked under the first strike and countered with a swift punch to Braxion's midsection, sending him stumbling back.
From there, it was all Cole. His gauntlets blurred as he unleashed a relentless barrage of strikes, each blow perfectly timed to disrupt Braxion's rhythm.
The fight ended with Braxion on the ground, his arm blades knocked aside.
"Better luck next time," Cole said, stepping out of the ring to cheers from Class F.
The next match featured Ava against a boy whose infatuation and lust with her was painfully obvious.
He wielded a pair of short swords, his stance more focused on impressing Ava than on winning.
Ava's expression remained cold as ice as she raised her katana.
The match lasted all of five seconds. With a series of fluid strikes, she disarmed him and immobilized his limbs, leaving him sprawled on the ground.
"You should focus on your technique," Ava said, her voice emotionless. "Not your fantasies."
As Roland stepped into the ring, he was met with a jeer. "Well, if it isn't Kuiper," called a voice.
One of Tyson Clad's former friends, a burly boy named Grant, approached with a pair of tonfas.
"You remember me, don't you? We used to have so much fun back at the hallways and bathroom."
Roland's grip tightened on his daggers. "Let's see if you're still as tough as you think without Tyson backing you up."
The match began with a flurry of movement.
Grant pressed the attack, his tonfas swinging in wide arcs designed to overpower Roland.
But Roland's instincts took over, his well-built frame and quicker reflexes allowing him to weave through Grant's strikes.
It was a close fight.
Grant's strength was undeniable, and more than once, Roland narrowly avoided a blow that could have ended the match. But Roland's survival instincts and newfound training proved decisive.
He feinted left, drawing Grant off-balance, and then struck with both daggers in a rapid cross-slash.
Grant stumbled, his tonfas slipping from his grasp as he hit the ground.
Roland stepped back, breathing heavily but victorious.
The second phase of the training began, this time allowing students to combine their essence abilities with their weapons.
Braxion, still nursing his earlier loss, immediately challenged Cole to a rematch.
His water blades combined seamlessly with his arm blades, creating a deadly offensive rhythm. But Cole's flames roared to life, their sheer power overwhelming Braxion's defenses.
The fight ended as decisively as the first, with Cole's steaming hot gauntleted fist slamming into Braxion's chest.
Eva's battle was against Alan Tyrex, the merchant-class cadet who had underestimated Roland in their hand-to-hand sparring session weeks ago.
Alan wielded a massive greatsword infused with wind essence, his attacks precise and relentless.
But Eva was unfazed. Her katana danced through the air, her movements fluid and controlled.
She used her ice essence to counter Alan's wind, slowing his strikes and disrupting his rhythm.
In the final moments of the match, Eva disarmed him with a single, elegant maneuver, her blade resting against his throat.
Alan raised his hands in surrender, muttering, "I see why they call you the untouchable Frost Queens."
Eva stepped back without a word, sheathing her katana.