The academy grounds lay quiet under the night sky as Asher carefully made his way out of bed. He checked the hallway - all doors were closed, indicating everyone had retired for the night. The descent down the stairs seemed to take forever, each step carefully placed to avoid making noise.
Finally reaching the outside, fresh air filled his lungs as he approached his chosen training spot - a basketball court-sized area he'd noticed was conveniently hidden from the security cameras. He'd spent days observing the camera patterns to find this blind spot, knowing he needed somewhere private to practice.
Recalling the day's training sessions, Asher started with basic combat stances. He quickly realized he needed something to practice with, and after a brief search, he discovered some wooden logs near an ongoing construction site. He dragged several back to his spot, setting them up as makeshift training dummies.
His kicks landed with precision, splintering the logs one after another. Each successful strike built his confidence, and a small smile formed as he watched the wooden pieces scatter. This was what he needed - proof that regardless of his test scores, he could perform the same moves he'd seen others practicing.
Then something unexpected happened. A slate-like interface appeared before him, displaying his stats. Curiosity led him to tap the mystery box icon, and a message appeared:
The sword materialized - impressive with its three sharp edges and an inscription reading 'belju' along the side. Asher examined it carefully, testing its weight and balance. He practiced a few swings, already imagining how useful it could be in actual combat situations, before storing it away.
His watch beeped - 4 AM already. Time to head back. The return to his room was quick, but as soon as he closed his door, a familiar pain gripped his chest. His heart raced as he dropped to his knees, recognizing the onset of an attack.
"Not now, not now," he whispered, crawling to his suitcase. Inside, at the bottom, lay several medication packets, each labeled for different symptoms. Finding the one he needed, he took two pills and leaned against his bed, waiting for them to take effect.
The scene from two years ago played in his mind - sitting in the doctor's office, receiving his diagnosis: post-traumatic stress disorder with severe anxiety. The memory of those initial struggles was still clear - the trembling hands, the headaches, the panic attacks that seemed to come from nowhere.
"Why now?" he thought, frustrated that his condition was flaring up just as things were starting to make sense at the academy. He remained there until sunrise, watching the room slowly brighten with dawn's arrival, his mind wrestling with questions about his future at the academy and how to manage his condition alongside his training.
As morning light filtered through his window, Asher heard the familiar sounds of other students beginning to stir. Despite his exhaustion from the night's activities and the anxiety attack, he knew he had to maintain his routine. He'd promised Derek he'd join them for early training, after all.
Getting to his feet proved harder than expected - his muscles protested from the night's secret practice session, and the aftermath of his anxiety attack left him feeling drained. Still, he managed to shower and change into his training gear, making sure to slip an emergency pill into his pocket, just in case.
The dining hall was sparsely populated when he arrived, mostly occupied by other early risers preparing for morning training. He spotted Yuno at their usual table, methodically working through a bowl of oatmeal while reviewing what appeared to be training notes.
"You look like death warmed over," Yuno commented as Asher sat down with his own breakfast. "Rough night?"
Asher shrugged, not meeting his friend's eyes. "Something like that." He glanced around. "Where's Derek?"
"Already at the training grounds. He's been there since dawn, probably trying to master that new technique Stanley showed us yesterday." Yuno paused, studying Asher's face. "Have you seen Kira this morning? She wasn't at breakfast yesterday either."
The mention of Kira brought back memories of their conversation in the garden. "She's going through some personal stuff," Asher said carefully, not wanting to betray her confidence. "Her grandfather passed away."
Understanding dawned on Yuno's face. "That explains a lot. No wonder she seemed off during practice yesterday."
Their conversation was interrupted by Steven Fletcher's loud entrance into the dining hall, already surrounded by his usual group of admirers. He was demonstrating some flashy move that sent sparks of energy dancing through the air.
"Show-off," Yuno muttered, returning to his breakfast.
Asher watched Steven's display with mixed feelings. On one hand, the guy's arrogance was insufferable. On the other hand, Asher had managed to replicate some of those same moves during his night training session - not that anyone could know that.
"We should head to the training grounds," Yuno said, checking his watch. "Derek's probably wondering where we are."
As they made their way across the academy grounds, Asher felt the familiar surge in his stomach, stronger after last night's practice. He pushed it down, conscious of Stanley's warnings. But he couldn't help wondering how long he could keep up this charade of being the weakest student in the academy.
The training grounds came into view, already busy with early morning activity. Derek was easy to spot, his movements precise and powerful as he worked through a complex series of combat forms. Several other students had stopped their own practice to watch him, whispering among themselves about his true name and impressive test scores.
"Ready to join the fun?" Yuno asked, stretching his arms above his head.
Asher nodded, though 'fun' wasn't exactly the word he'd choose. Every training session was a careful balance - trying to improve while not revealing too much, staying involved without drawing attention. At least his night training sessions gave him an outlet for his true abilities.
As they approached Derek, Asher noticed Stanley watching from the sidelines, his expression unreadable. Their eyes met briefly, and Asher felt a chill run down his spine. How much did Stanley really know about his abilities? And more importantly, what other secrets was the instructor keeping?
"There you guys are," Derek called out, pausing his practice. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about morning training."
Asher forced a smile, pushing aside his concerns about Stanley and his secrets. Right now, he had a role to play - the struggling student with minimal powers.