Charles woke in his new room, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the light streaming through a small window.
The space was slightly larger than his Aspirant quarters, with a decent wooden bed, a simple desk, and a chair that didn't look like it'd collapse.
There was even a narrow wardrobe in the corner—something he hadn't had before.
'Not bad at all,' he thought, stretching.
The sheet was thicker, and the mattress didn't creak with every move.
'This is practically luxury,' he thought, grinning.
But his moment of peace didn't last.
A gruff voice boomed from the hallway.
"Novices, up! Five minutes to get ready!"
Charles groaned, rubbing his eyes.
'Again?' he thought, feeling the exhaustion from the previous night.
The rain, his talk with Nora, and the pain in his hands had kept him from resting well.
But there was no time to complain.
He muttered, "System, help me make the bed."
A blue panel appeared:
[Efficiency Mode Activated: Making bed.]
In seconds, Charles folded the sheet and smoothed the mattress with inhuman precision.
'This is the system's best trick,' he thought, satisfied.
He slipped on his black tunic, still surprisingly intact despite the explosions, and stepped into the hallway.
About twenty Novices stood outside their rooms, all in identical tunics.
Charles noted most were closer to his age, though some boys and girls looked barely teenaged.
'Fewer people than the Aspirants,' he thought, counting quickly. 'But these guys seem… sharper.'
An instructor, a tall man in a black tunic with red-striped edges, paced the hall, inspecting the Novices.
His eyes landed on Charles, and an eyebrow rose.
"You the new guy? The one promoted yesterday?" he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and skepticism.
Charles nodded, standing taller.
"Yeah, I'm Rian," he said, keeping his voice steady.
The instructor sized him up, like he was appraising a horse before buying.
"Get ready, Rian," he said, with a smile that wasn't entirely friendly. "After breakfast, you'll face your peers in duels. That'll set your place in the group."
He clapped his hands sharply, ending the talk, and shouted, "To the dining hall, now!"
Charles followed, but inside he was cursing.
'Duels? Shit!' he thought, stomach churning.
It wasn't just the pain in his hands or the fatigue; the system still hadn't fixed the "authority" issue for fighting.
'If I don't sort that out, I'm screwed,' he thought, clenching his teeth as he walked.
The dining hall had a smaller table for about twenty, and the food was a step up: fresh bread, scrambled eggs, and a pitcher of watery juice.
The Novices ate in near-total silence, with only the clink of cutlery and the crunch of bread.
Charles sat at one end, keeping his head down, but he felt his peers' stares.
'They're sizing me up,' he thought, slicing a piece of bread.
The silence broke when a boy across the table, with green hair and broad shoulders, spoke without looking directly at him.
"Hey, you're the guy who fought yesterday, right?" he said, his tone more accusing than curious. "The one who dodged that Aspirant's punches?"
Every head turned to Charles.
The Novices' eyes, male and female, pinned him in place.
Charles swallowed a bite of egg, feeling the weight of their attention.
"Yeah, that was me," he said neutrally, trying not to sound cocky.
The boy, with a small scar on his chin, let out a dry laugh.
"Don't let it go to your head," he said, pointing with a spoon. "That Aspirant was a weakling. You're with a different league here. Don't think you're gonna impress anyone."
Charles raised an eyebrow, holding back a smirk.
'Here we go,' he thought.
He didn't want trouble, but he wasn't about to get walked over.
"Not trying to impress anybody," he said, shrugging. "Just wanna eat in peace."
Another boy, slimmer with long hair tied in a ponytail, leaned forward.
"Is it true your last name's Cole?" he asked, his tone blending disbelief and challenge.
Murmurs rippled across the table, and Charles felt the air tighten.
The Cole surname carried weight, and everyone knew it.
"Yeah, it's Cole," Charles said, voice firm. "I'm Rian Cole."
The murmurs grew.
"No way…" a short-haired girl whispered.
"A Cole at Novice," another muttered, shaking his head.
A boy crossed his arms, smirking mockingly.
"I'd keep a low profile if I were you, Cole," he said, his tone a warning. "Some folks here could cripple you in a fight. You don't want that, do you?"
Charles met his gaze, then said, "If that's a threat," with a cold smile, "go ahead and try. I don't need my family to wipe the floor with you."
The boy flushed, opening his mouth to retort, but a girl beside him, with black braided hair, raised a hand.
"Cool it," she said, firm but calm. "Don't make a scene in the dining hall. This isn't the place."
Her eyes flicked from the boy to Charles, scolding them both.
The boy clicked his tongue, muttering, "We'll see who kicks whose ass in the duels."
He turned back to his plate, but the tension lingered.
Charles kept eating, ignoring the stares.
After breakfast, the group headed outside to a training area Charles hadn't seen before.
The ground was wet and littered with leaves from last night's rain, and the air smelled of damp earth. The sky was overcast.
The instructor, with his red-striped tunic, pointed to a pile of brooms against a wall.
"Clean this mess!" he shouted. "I want the ground spotless before the duels!"
Charles grabbed a broom, muttering, "System, efficiency mode."
A blue panel appeared:
[Efficiency Mode Activated: Cleaning.]
His movements turned precise, sweeping dirt and leaves with a speed that surprised some Novices.
In minutes, the ground was clean, and Charles deactivated the mode, feeling a slight fatigue.
'Yeah, this'll come in handy if I ever need a side gig outside,' he thought, leaning on the broom.
The others finished soon after, and the instructor clapped his hands.
"Line up!" he shouted, then pointed at Charles. "You, newbie, come here."
Charles approached, feeling the others' eyes.
The instructor looked at him sternly.
"These are the top ten Novices," he said, gesturing to a group of boys and girls standing while the rest sat on the ground. "If you can't beat any in the duels, you'll be unranked, like those losers over there."
He paused, a mocking smile forming.
"And unranked, your chances of promotion are zilch."
Charles nodded but couldn't resist asking, "What if I beat them all?"
The instructor barked a laugh, shaking his head.
"Beat them all, and you'd skip this rank, go straight to Warrior," he said, still chuckling. "You might even fight in the arena against outsiders."
His tone turned serious.
"But don't get your hopes up, Rian. You barely awakened your power yesterday. These folks know how to use theirs, unlike you."
Charles grinned, though nerves churned inside. He eyed the ten Novices watching him, their expressions ranging from curiosity to disdain.
'Alright… let's see how many I can take down,' he thought, cracking his neck.