[Illustration: Training arena, Lee Shin facing Jin Tae-Sung in a one-sided duel while students watch and laugh.]
Combat class was brutal. The sun beat down as dozens of students clashed swords and mana.
"Pair up!" barked Instructor Rho.
Jin Tae-Sung grinned, stepping forward. "You and me, weakling."
Shin sighed. "Fine."
When the match began, Tae-Sung charged like a bull, blade coated in fiery mana. Shin dodged narrowly, his slower reflexes frustrating him.
This body can't keep up… not yet.
Blow after blow pushed him back. The class jeered.
"Pathetic!"
"He's useless as always!"
But Shin's eyes narrowed. Every strike taught him something—timing, weight, mana flow. He was analyzing, adapting.
When Tae-Sung overextended, Shin moved.
A flicker of blue light surged from the ring, running up his arm. His wooden sword glowed faintly as he parried the strike perfectly, sending shockwaves through the arena.
The crowd gasped.
Tae-Sung stumbled back. "W–What the hell—?!"
Shin stepped forward, calm and cold. "Your stance is weak. Fix your balance."
Then he struck. One clean hit to Tae-Sung's chest sent him flying backward. His sword cracked, splintering.
Silence followed.
Even the instructor looked stunned. "That… that mana signature… impossible."
Shin turned away, his expression unreadable.
Inside, the ring pulsed again. Its glow spread faintly through his veins, whispering words he couldn't understand.
You're changing me… or I'm changing you.