The shockwave from their collision sent dust billowing outward in a perfect circle.
When it cleared, the training ground went completely silent.
Brick's mace was embedded deep in the ground—driven there with enough force to crater the earth around it. His hands were still gripping the handle, knuckles white, breathing ragged.
Arden stood behind him, practice sword pressed gently but unmistakably against Brick's throat.
The referee blinked. "Match... Rank 1 wins."
For a moment, nobody moved.
Then Brick started laughing—genuine, explosive laughter that shook his whole frame.
"I didn't even see you move! One second I was going for the finishing blow, next second my mace is in the ground and you're behind me!" He released his weapon, turning carefully around the blade still at his throat. "How?!"
Arden lowered his sword, breathing harder than he'd like to admit.
"You committed everything to that final strike. Left yourself completely exposed."
"But the accumulated power—there was no way to block it—"
"So I didn't block it." Arden gestured to the embedded mace. "I redirected your momentum downward at the last possible moment. Used your own force against you. While you were overextended, I repositioned."
Brick stared at him, then at his mace, then back at Arden.
"That's... that shouldn't be possible. The timing window would be—"
"About a tenth of a second," Arden confirmed. "Maybe less."
The gathered students erupted into shocked murmurs.
"He redirected Progressive Annihilation at full charge?!"
"That's insane—"
"The precision required—"
Brick yanked his mace free from the ground, examining the crater it had created. When he looked back at Arden, his expression had shifted from shock to something more calculating.
"You held back."
It wasn't a question.
Arden kept his expression neutral. "What makes you say that?"
"Because that redirect—that timing—that's not something you figure out mid-fight." Brick's eyes narrowed. "You knew exactly when to move. Like you've done it before. Multiple times."
He stepped closer, voice dropping so only Arden could hear.
"And your mana circulation. I felt it when our weapons connected. It's different. More efficient. Deeper." A pause. "You broke through, didn't you? You're 3rd Stage."
Damn. He's sharper than I expected.
The crowd had gone silent, straining to hear.
Arden met Brick's eyes directly and nodded once.
The training ground exploded with noise.
"3RD STAGE?!"
"At twelve years old?!"
"When did—"
"HOW—"
Brick raised a hand, and surprisingly, the crowd quieted.
"When?" he asked.
"Two weeks ago."
"Two weeks." Brick shook his head in disbelief. "And you've been training with us like nothing changed. Why?"
"The ranking battles are in a week. Didn't want it affecting group dynamics before then."
"That's considerate and frustrating at the same time." Brick gestured with his mace. "But that's not what I'm asking about. Why didn't you use your full strength just now? Why not use your Integration core? Your actual 3rd Stage power?"
Arden considered his answer carefully.
"Because it wasn't appropriate for a spar."
"What?"
"You're 2nd Stage. I'm 3rd Stage." Arden kept his voice level. "Using Shadow Devil Integration and full 3rd Stage mana reinforcement against you wouldn't be testing skill—it would just be overwhelming advantage."
He gestured between them.
"This was supposed to measure technique and adaptation. Not raw power difference. If I'd used everything, this wouldn't have been a match. It would've been me bullying you."
The training ground went completely silent.
Then Brick started laughing again—but this time it was different. Respectful. Almost awed.
"You're insane, you know that?" He extended his hand. "Most people would take any advantage they could get. Especially someone aiming to keep Rank 1."
"I am Rank 1," Arden pointed out, clasping Brick's forearm. "Don't need to prove it by crushing allies."
"Allies." Brick's grin became fierce. "I like that. And you're right—we are allies. Which is why I'm going to work my ass off to reach 3rd Stage too. Then we're doing this again. For real."
"Looking forward to it."
As they separated, a familiar presence cut through the crowd.
Elara appeared, her twin swords sheathed at her sides, expression thoughtful.
"3rd Stage," she said, studying Arden. "That explains some things. The efficiency in your movements. The confidence in your tactical decisions." A pause. "You've been operating on a different level this whole time."
"Not different. Just slightly ahead."
"Slightly." Elara's lips twitched. "You're 3rd Stage at twelve. In the entire academy history, maybe five people have achieved that. And none of them were in their first year."
She stepped closer, voice dropping.
"This changes things. For the ranking battles. For everything." Her eyes were intense. "If you're 3rd Stage now, with your tactical mind and experience... you could challenge the third-year top rankers. Maybe even some fourth-years."
"Let's focus on the second-years first."
"Always practical." Elara smiled slightly. "But this means the rest of us need to work even harder. If Rank 1 is 3rd Stage, then Rank 2 needs to catch up."
She doesn't know she won't. Not for a while.
Arden had broken through early because of his Perfect Resonance, and the Shadow Devil Integration's mana enhancement.
The others didn't have those advantages. They were still prodigies—Elara especially would reach 3rd Stage eventually, probably within months—but not yet.
That's why the Northern Front fell. Not enough people strong enough, fast enough.
I need to change that. But I can't carry everyone.
Rykard appeared next, his three swords orbiting slowly.
"3rd Stage explains the mana efficiency I observed." His calm voice somehow cut through the ambient noise. "Congratulations, Rank 1. Your advancement benefits the entire grade."
"How so?"
"Because now we have a clear target." Rykard's expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes. "Proof that early breakthrough is possible. Motivation to push harder."
Serra stood at the edge of the group, maintaining her usual distance. But when Arden glanced at her, she nodded once—acknowledgment and respect.
Brick hefted his mace onto his shoulder.
"So what happens now? You going to demolish the second-years single-handedly?"
"No." Arden's voice was firm. "I'll take down Rank 1 directly no need to challenge one after the other"
A sharp whistle cut through the conversation.
Instructor Valen stood at the edge of the training ground, expression unreadable.
"0001. My office. Now."
Here we go.
As Arden walked toward her, he could feel dozens of eyes following him.
The first-year who'd broken through to 3rd Stage before anyone else.
The Rank 1 who'd just demonstrated overwhelming superiority while holding back.
The leader of the Golden Generation.
Too much attention. But necessary.
If I'm going to change things, people need to believe change is possible.
---
Valen closed the door behind them, then turned to face Arden with an expression somewhere between impressed and exasperated.
"3rd Stage. At twelve years old. In your first year." She crossed her arms. "Do you have any idea how unprecedented that is?"
"I have some idea, yes."
"And you didn't report it? Protocol requires informing your instructor of stage breakthroughs immediately."
"I apologize, Instructor. I wanted to—"
"You wanted to avoid disrupting group dynamics before the ranking battles." Valen's expression softened slightly. "I know. Brick's voice carries. I heard the whole conversation."
She moved to her desk, pulling out a folder.
"I'm not going to reprimand you for the delay. Your reasoning was sound, even if it technically violated protocol." She opened the folder. "But now that it's public knowledge, we need to adjust your training regimen."
"Adjust how?"
"You're 3rd Stage. The standard first-year curriculum is inadequate for someone at your level." Valen pulled out several documents. "Starting tomorrow, you'll train with the advanced second-year group three days a week. The other four days, you'll continue with your first-year cohort."
She looked up.
"This isn't a reward. This is necessity. You need opponents who can actually challenge you, or your growth will stagnate. The second-year advanced group includes few 3rd Stage students and one early 4th Stage."
"Understood."
"Additionally, I'm assigning you supplementary Integration training. That Shadow Devil core you absorbed—you've barely scratched the surface of its capabilities. I'm bringing in a specialist to help you develop proper technique."
Valen's expression became more serious.
"The ranking battles start in one week. You, as Rank 1, will be the first-years' representative in several key matches. Your performance will set the tone for the entire cohort."
"I understand."
"Do you?" Valen leaned forward. "Because this isn't just about you anymore. Every first-year is watching you. Following your example. When you broke through to 3rd Stage, you became more than just Rank 1—you became the standard they're all trying to reach."
She paused.
"That's a heavy burden. Can you carry it?"
Arden thought about his past life. About being Captain Chen, leading soldiers through Fallujah and Kandahar. About the weight of command, of knowing every decision affected lives.
"I can carry it."
"Good." Valen pulled out one final document. "Then there's one more thing. The Marshal wants to meet you personally before the ranking battles. Tomorrow, after your training session. Be prepared to explain how you achieved 3rd Stage so early."
The Marshal. The academy's commanding officer. One of the Empire's legendary warriors.
This is getting complicated.
"I'll be ready."
"Dismissed. Get some rest—tomorrow's advanced training session will make today look easy."
----
When Arden returned to the barracks, he found half his cohort waiting.
They'd reorganized the common area—moved furniture, cleared space. Like they were preparing for something.
"Uh," Arden said eloquently. "What's this?"
A first-year from Rank 30 stepped forward.
"We want you to teach us."
"Teach you what?"
"Whatever you did to reach 3rd Stage. Your training methods. Your optimization techniques. Everything." The student gestured to the gathered group. "We know you've been holding back. Doing extra training. We want in."
Others nodded eagerly.
"We're not asking for special treatment," another added. "We'll do whatever work is required. We just—we want to be stronger. Like you."
Arden looked at the assembled faces. Determination. Hunger. The same desperate drive he'd seen in himself.
They want to survive. To matter. To be worthy of the Golden Generation title.
"Alright," he said. "But I'm warning you—my methods are brutal. Some of you won't be able to keep up."
"We can handle it," they chorused.
We'll see about that.
"First lesson: optimization starts with understanding your foundation. Everyone, show me your basic sword forms. I'll identify inefficiencies in your mana circulation and movement patterns."
As they began demonstrating, Arden moved between them, offering corrections, pointing out wasted energy, suggesting refinements.
This is how it has to be. Not me carrying everyone, but me helping them become strong enough to carry themselves.
If the Golden Generation is going to matter, everyone needs to improve. Not just the top ranks.
I'm building survivors, Arden corrected. People who can handle what's coming.
Because what's coming will break anyone who isn't ready.
Hours later, after the impromptu training session ended and students returned to their bunks exhausted but energized, Arden finally had a moment alone.
He stood by the window, looking out at the darkened training grounds.
One week.
One week until the ranking battles.
One week until the Golden Generation proved itself.
And somewhere beyond the academy walls, in Frontier Fortress Kar'eth, the first warning signs of the Northern Front's collapse were beginning to appear.