I had just stepped into the training ground, I was surprised I even knew my way there .
I hadn't even taken a minute to assess my surroundings when I was welcomed with a fist right into my gut and of course the fist was wrapped in aura.
The hit sent me skidding across the marble floor. My ribs screamed; my vision shook. I barely managed to stay on my knees.
"Late," he said flat, cold, like a statement of fact.
Another blow came before I could answer. I folded in half, choking, blood on my tongue. The floor tilted, and I realized the pain was making me dizzy.
"You can't afford weakness," his voice cut through the ringing. "You will not shame this house at the Academy Trials. I don't know why you have proven to be the most pathetic member of this house ".
Shame.
Right. That's what they called it when their weapon didn't sharpen fast enough.
[Architect Analysis Initiated
Skill activatied : Time genius.]
Target: Aureon Valencrest
Estimated Deconstruction: 6 minutes, 12 seconds.
What the...??? A whole six minutes, would I even be conscious? But my compression rate isn't that show !!! Fuck .
He vanished again — no, not vanished, moved faster than my eyes could track. Aura cracked like thunder as his palm hit my chest I felt something give.
[Progress: 42%...]
I staggered back, barely breathing. The Architect pulsed in my mind, cold and mechanical, dissecting every motion, every flick of his aura.
[76%...]
Come on faster ...
He came again. I dropped low, the instinct hitting half a heartbeat before the thought did. His strike tore through empty air.
[Deconstruction Complete.]
My body moved on reflex a half-step, a pivot and I dodged another hit cleanly.
He stopped. Just looked at me. A silent, unreadable expression.
Then he turned his back. "That's enough for today. You shall be present in the training ground by dawn every day for the rest of the week. We must prepare for the academy throughly . You must not fail . "
" And no healing potions shall be offered to you the whole week . That is the cost of weakness ".
The doors opened, and he left without another word.
---
The room was quiet again. My breath wasn't.
I spat blood, wiped my mouth with a shaking hand. What the fuck was that . A whole week of torture!!! Is this what this body has been going through. I am cooked.
A D-rank body trying to learn from a monster. Smart plan.
Still… I was alive. Barely. But alive.
And I'd seen something. The rhythm of his movements, the way aura gathered in his stance. Patterns. Repetition.
Data.
Every strike, a lesson.
Every bruise, an equation.
Every drop of blood, an investment.
He thought I wanted to pass the Academy Trials.
He had no idea.
I'm not doing this to prove I'm a Valencrest.
I'm doing this to make sure the people who killed me last time don't exist long enough to do it again. This is my motto and I would make sure I go through any length to get what I want.
The Architect pulsed once more.
[Prototype Skill Acquired: Reactive Step — Rank D]
A dull laugh escaped before I could stop it. It hurt to breathe. Hurt worse to grin.
Progress. Pain and progress.
---
Later that night.
The study lights burned dimly, shadows cast by floating candles crawling across the walls. Aureon Valencrest stood by the window, hands clasped behind his back, armor still faintly humming with residual aura.
Alfred tall, gray-haired, loyal waited silently by the door.
"He dodged," Aureon said finally. "My second strike."
Alfred blinked. "The young master?"
Aureon's lips curved — not quite a smile. "He's changed. Watch him closely. Don't interfere… just observe."
"Yes, my lord."
Aureon looked out into the night again, faint amusement flickering in his eyes.
"Interesting," he murmured. "Let's see what you become, boy."