The panic was a contagiousn, spreading through the departing crowd like wildfire.
Dravin could hear the frantic voices and choked sobs of his fellow recruits as they processed the Sub-Dean's sentence.
One day to prepare for a Rank 3 monster. It was an execution order disguised as an exam.
The past exams were all rank 2 and even a few years ago they reduced it to defeating one rank one monster. But this time, they actually managed to increase difficultly by increasing the strength of the beast by one level, it was simply beyond what other have planned for.
Some were actually not panicking as with the awakened talent as well as their strength, a level 2 could manage to defeat a level 3 primitive monster. But without the talent, they are helpless.
But Dravin didn't have such opportunity, all he needed to do now was cultivate!
He didn't walk, he half-ran, weaving through the stunned and terrified students. Every second was precious. He had one day, less than 24 hours to bridge an impossible gap.
He soon arrived at the recruits' residential area, a sprawling section of the academy grounds filled with identical, minimalist dwellings. While students from wealthy or influential families purchased private dorms, commoners and those with less backing were assigned simple sheds for less price.
As they weren't formally students of the Institute, they were not provided free accommodations. Dravin had aimed his last moment in this months rent payment. If he didn't manage to succeed tommorow, he can only manage resign himself to be an ordinary person. Even with the system, without the academy, he wouldn't not be granted rare resources manuals and also access to dimensional portals.
Dravin's place was a small, cube-like shed.
As he opens the door, the insides was revealed. A small air bed was pushed against one wall, a simple wooden table and chair occupied the center, and in a corner sat a single-burner stove with a dented pot and a spoon resting beside it.
It was the perfect, private training ground.
His eyes immediately landed on his weapon, resting against the table.
It was the standard-issue alloy Cleaver given to every recruit who chose it.
While his peers had eagerly chosen swords, saber, daggers, and spears, the original Dravin had made a far more practical choice.
His predecessor's memories were vivid. For over five years, whenever he was free from his studies, he had assisted his father at the family's butcher shop.
He had spent countless hours wielding heavy cleavers and wide-bladed knives, learning the unique balance and brutal efficiency of such weapons. He knew how to put his weight behind a chop, how to slice through thick hide and dense bone.
That familiarity was an advantage he couldn't afford to waste by learning a new weapon from scratch. And so, he had chosen the Basic Cleaver Combat Art.
Dravin grabbed the weapon. The cold, familiar weight settled into his hand perfectly. The blade was as long as a sword but significantly wider, with its weight focused towards the tip—a design perfect for powerful, cleaving strikes.
It felt less like a weapon and more like an extension of his own arm.
He accessed the memories concerning the combat art.
The `Basic Machete Technique` was divided into nine distinct levels of mastery.
The first level granted a mere 2% increase in the force of one's attacks.
It was a marginal boost, but with each successive level, the benefits grew exponentially.
Reaching the perfected ninth level was a staggering fear even amongst the official students, as it promised a staggering 100% increase in attack power, effectively doubling one's destructive force.
Of course, the difficulty increased with each level, making true mastery almost impossible for some.
But Dravin was different!
Taking a deep, centering breath, he cleared his mind and fell into a ready stance.
He recalled the first fundamental movement of the technique a simple, downward diagonal slash. With a specialized and precise grunt, he executed the move, putting the full force of his Rank 2 Super Soldier body into the swing. The machete whistled through the air.
As the motion completed, the crisp sound of the system chimed in his mind.
[Ding!]
[Practice of 'Basic Cleaver Technique' detected.]
[Random multiplier activated: 20x!]
[Progress: 10.50% -> 15.50%]
His eyes flew open, a grin spreading across his face. A 5% increase in proficiency from a single swing! It worked! While he knew that he wasn't tainted but with hard work and the system, he would surpass all geniuses!
Amazed and energized, he didn't pause.
He immediately transitioned into the next move, then the next, his body a blur of motion.
Slash. Pierce. Parry. Chop. He flowed through the foundational forms, the simple shed filled with the sound of slicing air.
The system's notifications became a constant stream in his mind.
[Ding! Random multiplier activated: 45x!]
[Ding! Random multiplier activated: 8x!]
[Ding! Random multiplier activated: 0x!]
[Ding! Random multiplier activated: 73x!]
The multipliers were wildly inconsistent, a true lottery. Some swings yielded massive gains, others barely anything. But it didn't matter. The cumulative progress was astonishing. On his tenth slash, something incredible happened.
[Ding! Random multiplier activated: 1,000x!]
A torrent of information, insight, and pure muscle memory flooded his brain. It was as if a grandmaster of the machete had personally downloaded a lifetime of experience directly into his soul. His understanding of the technique didn't just grow; it fundamentally transformed.
['Basic Cleaver Technique' has reached Level 2!]
Without thinking, he swung the machete again. The movement was completely different. It was faster, cleaner, more fluid. The slight hesitation at the peak of his swing was gone. The minute wobble in his wrist had vanished. All the small, imperceptible mistakes that had created openings in his form were instantly corrected. The force of his slash increased, and the air in front of him audibly split with a sharp whoosh.
"Incredible," he breathed, but he didn't stop.
Intoxicated by the feeling of rapid improvement, he pushed himself harder, swinging again and again.
"Slash!"
"Whoosh!"
The shed shook with the force of his practice. His muscles, enhanced by his physique, burned with exertion, but his spirit soared.
Hours passed in a blur of relentless training.
[Ding! Random multiplier activated: 4,000x!]
['Basic Cleaver Technique' has reached Level 3! <20.00%>]
Another, even more profound wave of enlightenment washed over him. He could now feel the flow of energy from his body into the blade, concentrating it at the edge for maximum cutting power. The air didn't just split; it seemed to groan under the pressure of his attacks.
He practiced until the sun dipped below the horizon, bathing the small shed in twilight.
Sweat drenched his body, his arms screaming in protest, but his eyes shone with a feverish, manic light.
**
['Basic Cleaver Technique' has reached Level 4!]
['Basic Cleaver Technique' has reached Level 5! <12.00%>]
Finally, a deep, rumbling growl from his stomach broke through his trance-like focus.
The sheer physical exertion had burned through all his energy reserves.
He was exhausted, but incredibly happy.
'Level 1 to Level 5 in a single afternoon,' he thought, his mind reeling.
From a 2% boost to a 25% boost in attack power. He had achieved in hours what might take a talented recruit years to accomplish. The speed of his progression was like a drug, and he was already addicted.
Stumbling over to the corner, he picked up the pot from the stove and devoured the cold, leftover rabbit meat he had cooked the previous night.
It wasn't much, but it was enough to silence his protesting stomach.
As he sat on his bed, catching his breath, he pulled up his status panel to review his progress.
┌──────[ Profile ]──────┐
│ [Name]: Dravin Borne
...
├──────[ Techniques ]───┤
│ [Meditation]: Astra Breath Absorption [Level 1] <3.50%>
│ [Combat Technique]: Basic Cleaver Technique [Level 5] <12.00%>
│ [Beast Companion]: NILL
│[[New User Gift: One (1) Lottery Spin available. Use now?]]
└─────────────────────────┘
His gaze fell on the final line. In his haste and excitement, he had completely forgotten about it. The New User Gift.
His one and only lottery spin. With the exam looming tomorrow, there was no better time to test his luck.
"System, use the lottery spin," he commanded in his mind.
The world in front of him dissolved. The wooden walls of his shed were replaced by an infinite, cosmic void. A colossal, ethereal slot machine, forged from starlight and nebulae, materialized before him. Its three reels were a blur of golden light, inscribed with countless words and symbols that spun too fast for him to comprehend.
With a mental command, he pulled the celestial lever.
The cosmic lottery machine whirred to life, its reels spinning with the sound of galaxies colliding. Light and shadow danced before his eyes. It was a dizzying, awe-inspiring sight.
After a few seconds that felt like an eternity, the reels began to slow down, one by one.
"Clank!"The first reel stopped.
"Clank!" The second reel locked into place.
"CLANK!" The third and final reel shuddered to a halt.
Across the center, a single line of glowing, golden text shone brightly against the cosmic backdrop, announcing his prize.