The moment he stepped outside, he was met with a crowd.
The stands surrounding the training field were filled with students, some chatting excitedly while others simply waited to see the so-called "worm" get crushed.
And in the center of it all, gripping a steel training sword, stood Aegir Rofelis.
Hajun grinned. So he's actually planning to fight seriously, huh?
Aegir sneered as Hajun approached. "You really showed up. I was half-expecting you to run away like the pathetic coward you are."
Hajun's grin widened. "If you were so confident, why do you look so pissed?"
Aegir's sneer twitched, but he didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he lifted his sword slightly. "Where's your weapon?"
Hajun cracked his knuckles. "Don't need one."
Aegir's grip tightened. "You're fighting barehanded?"
"Yep."
Silence fell over the crowd. Some students whispered among themselves, others outright laughed.
Aegir's eyes darkened. "You arrogant little—"
He stopped himself, inhaling sharply before shaking his head. "Fine. You want to get beaten with your bare hands? I'll make sure you never use them again."
Aegir's mana flared to life, faint embers of energy swirling around him. Hajun frowned slightly.
He really is third-rate.
The mana surged around Aegir's body, but it lacked refinement. It was brute force, raw power thrown out without technique. No subtlety, no control—just unpolished aggression.
Hajun exhaled through his nose. This won't take long.
Aegir's friend, acting as the commentator, stepped forward. "Alright, everyone! The fight between Aegir Rofelis and Oren Lesurial is about to begin!"
The murmurs in the crowd grew louder.
"Three..."
Aegir's stance shifted, his grip tightening on his sword.
"Two..."
Hajun simply rolled his shoulders.
"One—*"
Aegir charged.
The moment Aegir lunged forward, sword raised, a series of blue windows flashed across Hajun's vision.
[Your Martial Body is reacting to the enemy.]
[Defensive ability has been strengthened by 2.5x.]
[Offensive ability has been strengthened by 3.5x.]
[Your Fist Eye has activated.]
Hajun's entire body thrummed with energy. His muscles felt lighter, sharper—his vision seemed to slow down, every movement Aegir made becoming clearer.
The moment Aegir surged forward, a new System window flashed before Hajun's eyes.
[Your body is recording the martial arts you display.]
Aegir's form wasn't as sloppy as Hajun initially thought. His sword was positioned well, his footwork solid—within an instant, he was already upon Hajun, his blade swinging downward with force.
Hajun tilted his head slightly.
"Yeah, this ability's overpowered."
Before the sword could even get close, Hajun lashed out with a straight kick. His foot connected squarely with Aegir's chest, sending him stumbling backward. His grip loosened, his sword nearly slipping from his hands as his mana wavered, momentarily disrupted.
Aegir gasped, clutching his chest, pain flashing across his face.
Hajun grinned. "Get up. Try again."
Aegir's eyes burned with fury. He clenched his teeth, forcing himself to stand, mana flaring around him once more. He picked up his sword and this time, his stance was different.
More refined. More dangerous.
Hajun narrowed his eyes as Aegir's mana flowed in practiced movements, his body shifting into a deliberate rhythm. The air around him shimmered with intensity as he prepared his next strike.
[Detected Unique Sword Style: Rofelis Royal House Sword Dance – Imminent Flash.]
Aegir's body blurred, his sword almost flickering from view.
Hajun's mind moved fast.
"System, can you record that sword dance? If my Martial Body is recording arts, I want that attack."
For a moment, there was silence. Then, a single word appeared in his vision.
[Yes.]
A new notification followed.
[New Skill Acquired: Eminent Flash.]
[Skill Slots Remaining: 9/10.]
Hajun chuckled at the blatant copy-paste, raising a brow at the slightly altered spelling. "System, you're not even trying, huh?"
But he wasn't complaining.
Aegir lunged, his sword vanishing in a blur.
Hajun moved at the exact same time.
Their figures flashed—two blurs of motion colliding in an instant.
Then, silence.
Aegir collapsed.
His body hit the ground with a dull thud, completely unconscious, his sword slipping from his grasp.
And standing over him, grinning, was Hajun.Teresa had much more important matters to handle. The upcoming field trips required meticulous planning, not to mention the several scheduled meetings with government officials in the following weeks. There was paperwork piling up on her desk, tasks that needed her immediate attention.
And yet, despite all that, she was here, dragged to watch a petty duel with an obvious conclusion.
"Seriously, I could be doing something important right now, Maria…" Teresa sighed, blinking her silver lashes as she crossed her arms.
Maria, unfazed, only giggled and stuck out her tongue. "Oh, come on! Think about it, it'll be fun no matter what happens!" With a grin, she pushed Teresa toward a seat before plopping down beside her, reaching into a bucket of food like this was some grand entertainment spectacle.
Teresa scowled but didn't argue. Despite herself, she was interested.
Oren Lesurial was supposed to be someone without presence—so forgettable that people could run into him and assume it was a wall before moving on. He had never been remarkable, never stood out. A shadow. A footnote.
But today? Today, he bowed to her with a confidence that was impossible to ignore.
That clenched jaw.
Those piercing, almost doe-like eyes.
That smirk—brazen, unruly, completely out of place on the face of someone like him.
He was different.
More than different—he was unrecognizable.
Teresa narrowed her eyes, fingers resting lightly on her chin.
She still remembered that night.
"Ah... thank you..." Oren sniffled, wiping his tear-streaked face as he looked up at her with shaky gratitude.
Teresa's silver hair was damp, her uniform soaked from the rain.
"Ah! I'm so sorry! Because of me, you're—"
She simply shook her head. "Stand up for yourself." Her voice had been firm, unwavering. "That's the only way it'll stop. Don't thank me—you can avoid this if you try hard enough."
Back then, she hadn't realized just how talentless he was.
But she had noticed his determination—those shining eyes filled with desperate resolve. Until that morning.
That morning, Teresa had seen a hollow shell walking toward the dorms. No more resolve. No more light. Just an empty boy, carrying the weight of defeat on his trembling shoulders.
She had almost told one of her colleagues to check on him. Almost.
But now? Now it was like he was a completely different person.
The crowd stirred as Oren entered the training field. His presence wasn't just noticeable—it was blatantly daring, as if he wanted every eye on him. And then, in the face of Aegir's confident stance, he outright mocked him.
"I don't need a weapon. My fists are enough."
The arrogance in that line was absurd.
Aegir Rofelis was one of the top freshmen—not on the level of the Hero Class, but still someone recognized as a future contender in the academy. He had prospects. A path laid out for him.
And here was Oren, standing before him barehanded, acting as if it didn't matter.
Maria nudged Teresa with an excited grin. "He's got guts, huh? Maybe he was hiding his strength all along?"
Teresa wasn't so sure. She focused on Oren's stance, her silver eyes narrowing slightly.
Full of weak points.
His footing was unstable, his center of gravity too high, his shoulders relaxed in a way that spoke of someone untrained. If she had been in Aegir's place, a light shove would've been enough to send him tumbling.
Then why—
Aegir attacked.
A clean, practiced swing—one of his better techniques.
And Oren moved.
Not just moved—reacted perfectly.
A flawless sidestep. A movement so smooth it felt almost rehearsed. Teresa's eyes widened. That wasn't just instinct. That was art.
Aegir's entire body reeled back as a kick struck his chest. His grip on the sword loosened, his stance shattered.
Maria gasped. "HAHAHA! Told you! Who thought that shrimp would be strong? Was he hiding all along??"
But Teresa wasn't laughing.
Where the hell did Oren learn that?
Her gaze sharpened, analyzing every detail. The flow, the precision, the perfection of the technique. This wasn't something a beginner could do. And yet—this was Oren Lesurial.
No, something was wrong. This wasn't Oren Lesurial.
Then, to her growing disbelief, Aegir growled and powered up his mana.
"The hell?" Teresa muttered under her breath.
In a non-commissioned duel? Using a sword dance against an unarmed opponent?
She felt her silver aura ripple in irritation. If Aegir had any sense, he would know that breaking the academy's unspoken rules—using high-level techniques in unofficial duels—was crossing a line. She was already preparing to stand up, to go down there herself and stop this nonsense.
But then—
She lost sight of Oren.
For a split second, he simply vanished.
No—he didn't vanish. She just couldn't keep up.
Teresa sucked in a sharp breath, her silver eyes straining. If it weren't for her unique vision, she would've been just as lost as the rest of the crowd.
Oren stepped forward with blazing speed, so much faster than Aegir it was almost laughable.
Aegir didn't even realize what was happening.
Oren struck.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
A kick to the side. A punch to the gut. A straight to the jaw. A sweep to the legs.
Aegir hit the ground hard.
But to the ordinary eye?
It had all happened too fast.
To them, Oren had simply taken a single step and won in one blow.
The silence was deafening.
Maria almost choked on her food. "What the hell is this???"
Teresa simply gaped. "Who the hell is that...?"
A future Numbered Student had just been humiliated by the weakest student in the academy.
Or rather—by someone who used to be the weakest.