September 4, 3108
My morning began like the previous day. Nero, Liam, and I ran together before I returned to take a shower, changed into my academy jacket, and headed to lessons.
The first lesson of the day was aether control. It passed without any surprises. As it was the introductory session, we were only taught about the basics of aether manipulation and the history behind the development of aether technologies. In simpler terms, it was empty theory. The only notable difference was that the entire class seemed completely focused on the teacher—an understandable reaction given the importance of the subject.
The next lesson was with Mr. Michael. Today, he tested us on the theory he had previously taught.
The Scout group was divided into two teams: the hiders and the seekers. The task was simple—those hiding had to avoid being found within a designated territory, while those seeking had to find as many people as possible within the time limit.
I ended up in the hiders' group, while Liam was assigned to the seekers. We were given one minute to find a hiding spot. Without hesitation, I chose a large tree with multiple branches and dense foliage. I carefully erased my tracks, created some fake ones to throw off the seekers, and settled on one of the higher branches.
As I anticipated, no one found me. A few seekers passed through the area, but none noticed me. When the time was up, my bracelet vibrated, signaling that I could return to the starting point.
Growing up in the forest, surrounded by animals I often had to hunt, made hiding my presence as natural as breathing.
When I arrived back at the original location, I found many of my classmates animated and cheerful. Liam was among them, and I approached him.
"How was it?" I asked.
"Great! I just got 20 points," he replied with a grin.
"What points?"
"They didn't find you? Obviously not. Here's how it works: this hide-and-seek exercise will happen every time. Everyone starts with 1 point. If you're a seeker, you steal points from the people you find. If you're hiding, your goal is to avoid being found and losing your points. The most important part is that if you manage to collect 50 points and keep them for a week, you pass the first test."
"And if you don't collect enough points?"
"Then you'll have to pass the test the standard way—with the teacher as the examiner. Honestly, I don't even want to imagine what Mr. Michael might come up with."
"You're lucky, then. You've already collected almost half the required points."
"Of course! That's because I'm miraculous," Liam declared, puffing out his chest with exaggerated pride.
The rest of the lesson was spent analyzing the mistakes made by both the seekers and the hiders. At the end of the class, Mr. Michael gave us another task.
"By the end of the day," he announced, "ten of you will receive a message containing a unique word or phrase. If you're one of the recipients, your task is to use this word or phrase at least twice daily in conversations or around groups of people. You must do this without revealing that you've been assigned the phrase. If someone correctly identifies you as having the phrase and informs me, you'll be penalized in both grades and rank. However, if they're wrong, they'll be penalized instead. Keep in mind, the stakes are high—so tread carefully."
This marked the end of the physical training lesson, which had unexpectedly provided us with a mission unrelated to physical activity.
Liam and I headed toward the Unarmed Combat class, and on the way, we ran into Nero. He shared that he had also been given a strange mission. Unlike ours, which clearly focused on information acquisition and preservation, his mission revolved around commanding military troops and employing tactics to achieve better results in battle.
We eventually reached the gym designated for Unarmed Combat. The centerpiece of the room was a ring surrounded by high netted walls, roughly five meters tall. The ring was closed off and wasn't particularly large, as most of the room was filled with various training equipment—mannequins, punching bags, and other tools—much like the gym where I had previously dueled with Nero.
As we entered, we began to take a closer look at the room's setup. It was well-equipped, even though the equipment was clearly aged. Despite this, everything was impressively well-maintained.
The door we had come through opened again, and we saw someone familiar: Mr. Ronald.
"Hello," we all greeted in unison.
Mr. Ronald glanced at us and, for a moment, I caught a flicker of surprise on his face.
"Hello. Are you here for class?" he asked.
"Yes," Nero replied, and Liam and I confirmed his words with a nod.
"Great. Head to the locker room and change," he instructed.
We exchanged puzzled looks confused by the request since we were already wearing specialized training clothes.
"Into what?" I asked.
"You'll find out when you get there," he replied cryptically.
When we entered the locker room, we discovered what he meant. Each of us found a set of black gloves and sports boots adorned with small silver ornaments. At first glance, the attire seemed elegant and stylish, but the moment we put them on, we realized their true purpose.
These are heavier than my old jacket, I muttered to myself, feeling the added weight.
The silver ornaments, it turned out, were actual pieces of metal embedded into the gloves and boots. Combined, they added at least 80 kilograms of extra weight to our bodies.
The discomfort was undeniable, but it wasn't enough to severely restrict our movements. Once we had changed into the weighted attire, we stepped out of the locker room and saw Mr. Ronald waiting for us. He had changed into more casual training clothes and was already in the ring, warming up with boxing gloves on.
"Warm up your muscles a little, then let one of you step into the ring," Mr. Ronald instructed.
Slightly confused by the situation, we began doing light warm-up exercises and stretches. Taking the initiative, Liam volunteered to go first and climbed into the ring.
"I'll test you a bit to determine what you need to work on," Mr. Ronald explained. "Armor and techniques are prohibited, but you can use elemental enchantment. Attack when you're ready."
Our first contestant was decided and stood up in the ring.
Liam activated his circuit, and his entire body was enveloped in ManaVentis. Unlike mine, Liam's was a lighter green, with currents of wind swirling around his hands at high speed, though without forming any vortices.
He assumed a fighting stance, placing his right foot forward in line with his extended right fist, while his left arm was raised defensively.
Liam channeled all his strength into his left leg, his muscles contracting like a coiled spring. After a brief pause, he launched himself toward Mr. Ronald. However, just before reaching him, Liam halted his momentum with his right leg, transferring all his inertia into his left leg, which he whipped toward Mr. Ronald in a swift kick.
With a simple yet precise motion, Mr. Ronald redirected Liam's kick downward, sending it harmlessly toward the ground. But Liam wasn't finished. I watched as he adjusted his movements, fluidly transitioning into a spin. Using the centrifugal force from his redirected leg, he unleashed a follow-up attack—a rising kick with his right leg aimed directly at Mr. Ronald.
Mr. Ronald reacted effortlessly. As Liam's attack approached, he sidestepped with uncanny precision, allowing the kick to pass harmlessly through empty air. The missed strike, combined with all the momentum Liam had built up, sent him crashing into the wall of the ring, abruptly ending the duel.
"That wasn't a bad attempt," Mr. Ronald commented. "But you shouldn't throw everything into a move unless you're certain there's a good chance of success."
I wasn't sure if Liam even heard the feedback; he seemed too preoccupied trying to process what had just happened.
The next person to step into the ring was Nero.
Nero took a different stance than Liam's. His feet were shoulder-width apart, and his hands were not clenched into fists but extended with relaxed palms. One hand rested loosely behind his back, concealing its position. Unlike Liam, Nero didn't rush into the fight immediately. Instead, he began circling Mr. Ronald, observing him carefully and searching for any weaknesses in his movements.
Mr. Ronald mirrored Nero's motion, keeping pace and ensuring he couldn't be approached from an angle. The tension built as Nero slowly started to close the distance, not directly, but in calculated, circular strides. Then, without warning, Nero lunged forward, angling in from Mr. Ronald's left side.
Mr. Ronald responded swiftly, launching a left jab aimed at Nero's head. Nero reacted with precision, dodging by shifting his head to the right while extending his left hand to the left, aiming to exploit the blind spot created by Mr. Ronald's attack.
But Mr. Ronald wasn't caught off guard. Without hesitation, he bent his arm at the elbow to neutralize Nero's advancing hand and immediately countered with a left uppercut aimed at Nero's chin. Nero barely evaded the strike, ducking just in time to avoid what would have been a decisive blow. Recognizing the danger, he tried to create some distance between them.
Mr. Ronald didn't allow it. Closing the gap instantly, he drove a knee toward Nero's chest. Nero managed to stay conscious, though the impact forced a grunt from him. In response, he finally brought his concealed hand into play. With a flowing, wave-like motion, he moved his palm toward Mr. Ronald's knee, channeling the momentum into a decisive strike. Just before impact, Nero transformed his palm into a fist, aiming to redirect the force and counterattack.
However, Mr. Ronald anticipated the move. With a fluid shift, he angled his head slightly to the left and transitioned his knee strike into a sweeping kick. The sudden shift caught Nero off guard, and the impact sent him flying into the ring's wall—just as it had with Liam.
"You did well," Mr. Ronald said, his tone firm but approving. "But you should've retreated earlier to force me into a corner instead of letting me dictate the fight."
Nero climbed out of the ring, clutching his ribs where Mr. Ronald's knee had landed. He shot me a half-hearted grin. "You better not let him get you, Kail. Pretty sure he cracked a few of my ribs."
It was my turn. I stepped into the ring, taking a deep breath to steady my nerves. Activating my circuit, I felt the weight of the gloves and boots more acutely. Strangely, rather than hindering me, they seemed to enhance my focus, making each movement deliberate and charged with potential power.
Here's a revised and polished version of your text:
Like Liam, I positioned my legs carefully, but my fists remained closer to my body—relaxed yet ready. My muscles felt responsive, my breathing steady, and my gaze locked on Mr. Ronald. Every movement of his was subject to my constant analysis, searching for the ideal opening to strike.
Gathering strength in my feet like Liam had, I began to close the distance. However, instead of a straightforward charge, I approached in a zigzag pattern, weaving unpredictably from left to right. At the final rush, I prepared a left-handed vertical strike aimed at Mr. Ronald. He avoided it with a sidestep to his left, already setting up an uppercut with his own left hand.
Adapting in the heat of the moment, I shifted my intended fist strike into a tight elbow attack, reducing the radius and aiming directly for his head.
Mr. Ronald reacted instantly. Using his forearm, he redirected my elbow upward, sending it off course. Before he could fully follow through with his uppercut, I delivered a quick jab to his chest, creating just enough space between us to force a reset. Both of us took the moment to regain our stances.
The reset didn't last long. Together, we rushed at each other, colliding like opposing forces in a storm.
Taking advantage of the distance, Mr. Ronald aimed a low strike at my right knee. Instead of retreating, I charged forward into the attack, attempting to minimize its power and force him off balance. He adjusted seamlessly, turning the intended strike into a rising kick powered by a fluid motion of his pelvis. The kick landed solidly in my abdomen, knocking the wind from my lungs.
With no other option, I grabbed his leg with both hands before it could fully retract, using it as a pivot to twist myself away from the impact. In the same motion, I launched a counterattack, driving my left leg toward Mr. Ronald's shoulder.
As if anticipating this, he caught my leg mid-strike. With a swift and powerful motion, he hurled me into the wall of the ring.