Huff! Huff! Huff!
The air was thick with the sound of heavy breathing, each member of Rico's squad gasping as they braced themselves against the relentless training.
Hours had passed with no breaks, pushing each of them to the brink as Rico, now armed with his Holy Aura, had sparred them into exhaustion.
Despite his rank of Warrior (Novice), Rico's strength far surpassed his title, and it showed.
He stood amidst his battered, bruised subordinates, grinning as he took in the sight before him.
The training uniforms on most of them were torn, ripped at the seams or stained with dirt and sweat.
Some even bore visible bruises, reminders of the blows they'd taken.
They looked like they had just returned from a real battle—but this was only sparring.
Rico had found something profound here.
He had been bullied on Earth, labeled a loser, but here, he felt respected, valued, and at peace—a priceless feeling.
His memories might remind him of his past life, but the present offered something greater.
The Blessing of Ares pulsed within him, its influence blending his identity with a thirst for battle, a love for the thrill of fighting that he could no longer deny.
He was no longer the Rico from the lower realm. Here, he was a warrior.
This is perfect, he thought, glancing over his bruised and battered subordinates with satisfaction.
With training like this, no one will dare undermine me or my authority.
He looked at them all and raised his voice.
"You've impressed me today; you've held on," he said, his tone firm and commanding.
"For that, I will teach you the first quarter of the Shield of Fortitude."
His divine aura flared, and a touch of his Aura of Intimidation seeped into the air around him.
His subordinates stood transfixed by the sight, watching with awe as his energy radiated power.
For many, their path was now clear: they wanted to become just as impressive and steadfast as their Commander Tiyaga.
With a steady hand, Rico began demonstrating the Shield of Fortitude.
"Focus on your breath," he instructed, his voice calm but carrying authority.
"In every breath, channel your energy inward, grounding yourself like a fortress."
"Imagine your body as an unbreakable barrier."
He moved into position, showing the stance, his muscles tense and focused, embodying the technique.
"The Shield of Fortitude is not just about defending yourself," he continued.
"It's about standing firm for those you protect."
"Your body becomes the last line of defense, absorbing and deflecting any incoming force."
He demonstrated, planting his feet and centering his weight in a way that made his stance look immovable.
As they practiced, his subordinates focused with all they had, gradually beginning to understand the technique's depth.
Luna's voice chimed in his mind,
[Impressive. The Favor of the Gods is definitely with you today.]
Three hours flew by, and only the sound of the dinner bell interrupted their practice, signaling that they'd gone well past the usual training time.
Rico looked at his team, pride swelling in his chest, and they all made their way to the dining hall.
At the Dining Hall
The tables were neatly arranged, all of them laden with food, every dish set perfectly by the diligent maids.
Most groups had already gathered, chatting and sharing tales of the day's training.
Only Rico's group's table sat empty, yet it too was laid out with fresh food, awaiting their arrival.
Others couldn't help but glance at the door periodically, as did Commander Demetrius, his eyes flicking to Rico's table with faint curiosity.
Lycus watched the entrance with a smirk.
I thought he was a slacker. Seems I was mistaken, he mused, a hint of respect in his tone.
In contrast, Lysander clenched his fists.
"Typical ascenders," he muttered under his breath, jealousy simmering as he glanced toward Rico's empty seat.
Just as the maid raised her hand to ring the triangle, the dining hall's doors creaked open with a loud CRRRR!.
The hall fell silent as the heavy doors slowly opened, the sound echoing sharply and drawing all eyes to the entrance.
!!!
Rico entered, followed closely by his subordinates.
Their clothes were torn, their faces bruised and marked with fatigue, and their steps slow but steady.
The air around them was different, charged with an intensity that hushed the whispers.
"Did they actually fight in a real battle?" someone murmured, others nodding in disbelief.
"They look like they went through war," another murmured, eyes wide as he took in the bruised and battered state of Rico's group.
Their expressions were stern, faces set with a hardened resolve that spoke volumes.
Without glancing at anyone, they focused only on their table, moving through the hall with an aura of purpose that made their presence feel larger.
Even Lysander, who usually found a way to trip or taunt Rico, stood aside, too intimidated to even attempt it.
Rico led his group up to their table, stopping at the front with his right hand over his chest.
Bowing slightly, he addressed the seniors with respect.
"I apologize for our late arrival," he said, his voice steady and calm.
Behind him, his subordinates, synchronized in movement, mirrored him, showing their deference and silently apologizing for their late arrival.
The hall held its breath as the commanders nodded approvingly, acknowledging Rico's respectful gesture.
The room, still silent, watched the display of respect, surprised by the discipline and unity they radiated.
Rico's group had made a powerful entrance, one that would not be forgotten anytime soon.
As Rico took his seat, Demetrius's sharp eyes observed him closely, a glimmer of intrigue flickering.
Mmh…fascinating. I can still sense the faint residue of Holy Aura around him, he mused silently, his gaze assessing.
Another commander across the hall noticed the same and exchanged a confirming nod with Demetrius,
both struck by the rarity of what they were witnessing.
For a novice-ranked warrior to wield Holy Aura was unheard of—it was a privilege reserved for high-ranking beings.
Few possessed the strength and mastery to channel it, and for Rico, a mere novice, to wield it was beyond surprising;
it was extraordinary.
Meanwhile, Lysander sat silently across the hall, his fists clenched, struggling to control his simmering envy.
The state Rico's group was in—bruised, battered, and torn—hinted at the intensity of their training, a level that left him unsettled.
What on earth have they been doing to end up like this? he wondered, his mind racing with suspicion.
He gritted his teeth and glared down at his clenched fists, forcing himself to focus.
Fine. Let him have his moment. Our groups will face off soon enough, and I'll make sure to deal with him.
Elsewhere in the Helikon
Far from the bustling hall, Overseer Thalor, one of Ares' champions, sat in his private quarters with a faint smile, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.
With an unhurried motion, he lifted a glass of rich red wine to his lips, savoring the scent as he swirled it slightly.
Through his innate power and his oversight of Helikon, he could perceive almost every significant event that took place within his territory, and Rico's prowess had not gone unnoticed.
So, you sent me quite an intriguing one, Eila, Thalor thought, his lips curving in a smirk as he took a measured sip.
The wine was potent, thick and heady, a concoction of flavors that mirrored the richness of his territory.
The faint warmth spread through him, fueling his amusement. He leaned back in his seat, eyes glinting with fascination.
Holy Aura, huh? Fascinating indeed, Tiyaga… he murmured, the name rolling off his tongue with a sense of appreciation.
The oversight of someone like Rico promised battles worthy of Ares himself.
And for Thalor, a man who reveled in skill and combat, this novice warrior might just become his newest source of interest.
As the dining hall began to empty, Rico and his group moved as one, their exit as powerful as their entrance.
Fellow trainees murmured among themselves, casting curious glances at the group battered from a day of intense training yet carrying themselves with unmistakable pride.
Just outside, Rico and Lycus met, falling into step alongside each other beneath the soft glow of the lamp posts that dotted the walkway.
The night was calm, but a slight tension lingered, magnified by the hushed whispers of passing groups.
!!!
Then, Lysander appeared, standing directly in Rico's path.
Behind him, his own group gathered, their expressions hard and laced with a barely concealed eagerness for a confrontation.
The lamp post above cast long shadows, sharpening the anger on their faces.
Lysander, eyes glinting with a fierce battle lust, locked his gaze onto Rico.
"Say your words or keep them to yourself—whatever suits you," Rico said with a grin, his voice steady, showing not a shred of intimidation.
Lysander's lips curled into a sneer.
"Count your days, Tiyaga. We're watching."
Rico's grin only widened, the playful defiance in his eyes catching Lysander off guard.
"That's boring," Rico shot back, his tone light but mocking. "Just state the day and time."
A tense silence settled.
Around them, a few trainees slowed, watching the exchange with bated breath, their faces barely illuminated in the soft glow.
Some exchanged looks of unease, while others waited for a fight to break out, eager for the spectacle.
Rico, standing unfazed and relaxed, gave Lysander a single look that spoke volumes: a challenge accepted, on his terms.
Lysander clenched his jaw, his group stirring restlessly beside him, their frustration evident.
But without another word, he turned sharply and walked away, his followers falling in line, leaving Rico and Lycus standing beneath the light, unfazed and victorious in spirit.