It was evening now, and the last class of the day had finally ended. The moment I stepped out of the academy hall, I felt that familiar urge stirring inside me—the hunger to grow stronger. Wasting even a single hour seemed foolish in this world where strength decided everything. So instead of heading back to my dorm like most of the others, I turned toward the training area.
The hallways leading to the facility buzzed with energy. Some students were still discussing classwork, others making plans for dinner, but I tuned it all out. My mind was already fixed on the training dummies, on pushing myself a little further today. Soon, the chatter faded behind me as I entered the wide marble-floored training center. The air smelled faintly of polished steel and sweat—a place where countless battles were rehearsed every day.
I walked straight toward the dummy center and entered one of the personal training rooms. The door sealed behind me with a low hiss, and the familiar hum of machinery filled the air. The AI system immediately recognized me.
\
"Fourth stage," I said without hesitation. That was where I had stopped last time.
\
The room shifted almost instantly. Ten combat dummies shimmered into existence before me, each crafted from dense alloy and inscribed with faint runes to simulate the agility and strength of awakened fighters. Last time, it had taken me forty-five minutes to clear this stage. Today, I intended to do better.
The first dummy lunged. I drew my sword in a single fluid motion, no skills, no flashy techniques—just steel, speed, and strength. My blade met the dummy's strike with a harsh clang. I pivoted, letting my momentum carry me into a clean arc. Sparks flew as my blade carved through its arm, disarming it before I kicked it backward. Another came from the side. I ducked low, swept my leg across the floor, and sent it crashing down.
It was pure instinct, movement, and calculation. Every swing demanded precision; every dodge relied on split-second reflexes. My breathing quickened, but I didn't falter. I forced myself to keep pushing—footwork, agility, timing. The clang of steel rang through the room again and again. Sweat slid down my forehead, stinging my eyes, but I pressed on. I lost count of how many times I struck, how many times I dodged.
Thirty minutes later, the last dummy fell to the floor, its chest caved in from the force of my blade. My chest heaved with exertion, but I couldn't help the smirk tugging at my lips.
"Thirty minutes," I muttered between breaths. "Last time it was forty-five. I'm improving."
It wasn't massive progress, but it was proof that I was moving forward.
\
I wiped the sweat from my brow and tightened my grip on the hilt of my sword. "Yes. Stage Five."
\
The room darkened, and fifteen dummies appeared this time, faster, stronger, their rune-etched bodies glowing faintly as if mocking me. The air grew heavier, or maybe it was just the pressure mounting inside my chest.
The first wave struck hard. Blades clashed with mine, nearly forcing me back. I gritted my teeth and pushed forward. One dummy swung low at my legs while another aimed straight for my head. I twisted mid-air, letting both attacks miss by a hair's breadth, before bringing my sword down to slice into one's neck joint.
They didn't relent. Every time I cut one down, two more pressed in. My arms ached from parrying, my legs burned from constant footwork, but I refused to yield. Strike, dodge, pivot, counter—it became a relentless rhythm, a battle drum echoing in my veins. Blood pounded in my ears, each second stretching into eternity.
By the time the final dummy fell, forty-five minutes had passed. I staggered slightly, dragging in ragged breaths, but a surge of satisfaction spread through my chest. Stage Five was done.
I sheathed my blade for a moment, letting my body recover, but the thought of the next stage gnawed at me. I couldn't stop here.
"Stage Six," I commanded.
\
This time, twenty dummies emerged, their runes blazing brighter. Their movements were sharper, coordinated, almost like trained fighters rather than machines. The moment the fight began, I knew I was in trouble.
Their strikes came faster than I could anticipate. I parried one only to have another blade slash at my side. I twisted away, but not cleanly—a shallow cut burned across my ribs. Gritting my teeth, I retaliated, cleaving one dummy apart. But the others pressed in, overwhelming me.
Minutes dragged on. I fought tooth and nail, sweat pouring, muscles screaming. My sword grew heavier in my hands with every strike. I dodged a downward slash, only to stumble slightly, my exhaustion catching up. The dummies swarmed, their blows forcing me on the defensive.
By the time the system halted the stage, I was on my knees, panting heavily. My body trembled with fatigue, and every muscle throbbed. I had failed to complete Stage Six.
I glanced at the clock on the wall. Nearly seven.
"That's enough for today," I muttered, pushing myself to my feet. I exited the training room and left the center, my body still aching but my mind sharper than ever.
On the path back to my dorm, the evening air cooled my sweat-drenched skin. I walked slowly, letting the quiet settle over me. But halfway down the stone path, my steps faltered. My senses sharpened, instincts screaming at me. Three faint presences trailed me from behind, keeping their distance but never letting up.
At the same time, the system chimed.
\[Quest: Revenge of Arthur Dravenlock]
\[Description: Since his arrival at Nexus Hunter Academy, the original Arthur Dravenlock endured constant bullying and violence. His tormentors never stopped until they brought about his tragic end. Now, as someone who has taken over his body, you have the chance to avenge him.]
\[Reward: Passive Skill – Sword Mastery]
I froze, my eyes narrowing at the glowing window before me. Sword Mastery.
[Sword Mastery: A passive skill that increases one's innate understanding of the sword. Improves precision, efficiency, and instinctive reaction speed in combat. Allows the wielder to grow with the blade naturally, bridging the gap between raw talent and technique.]
My breath hitched slightly. I wasn't good with swords. All I knew were the basics, my techniques still clumsy compared to my peers. But with Sword Mastery… it would be different. It was like being given a map through unfamiliar terrain, a path to becoming something greater.
Without hesitation, I selected 'Yes.' The window vanished with a shimmer, leaving only the weight of the task behind.
The bullies. Rufus and his little gang. I remembered them clearly—the original Arthur's tormentors, the ones who had hounded him relentlessly. To me, they were pathetic. The strongest among them was barely a peak one-star hunter, bottom feeders of the academy. Still, if completing this quest meant gaining Sword Mastery, then so be it.
I turned off the path, veering into the academy's forest. The shadows lengthened beneath the trees, a hushed stillness replacing the chatter of the campus. My footsteps were deliberate, drawing them in deeper. When I finally stopped, the air was thick with tension.
A mocking voice cut through the silence. "Hahaha, look who we have here."
I turned slowly, my gaze locking onto three figures stepping from the shadows. At the front was Rufus Grint, the burly brute who fancied himself their leader. Beside him stood Dylan, thin and sharp-eyed, and Amy, the orange-haired girl whose beauty did little to hide the cruelty in her smirk.
Rufus sneered, towering over me. "What's a weakling like you doing here, huh? Think some extra training will make you stronger? Lowest rank loser."
I barely listened. His words were empty, recycled taunts I'd heard a hundred times before. My eyes flicked briefly to Dylan and Amy before returning to him. Calmly, I said, "You keep going on and on about being the lowest rank. You do realize you're not much better yourselves, right?"
The smirks froze. For a moment, silence hung in the air before forced laughter spilled out, covering their irritation.
"Listen to this little rat," Rufus growled, stepping closer. "Let's see how tough you are when you're on the ground."
He charged, fist cocked back. I tilted my head, and the punch swished past harmlessly. He threw another, then another, his rage spilling out in sloppy blows. I danced around them, my feet moving effortlessly.
Just as I thought—I was stronger.
On his next swing, I stepped in and drove my fist into his solar plexus. The impact made him choke and collapse to one knee, gasping for air. I leaned down slightly, a mocking smile curling my lips. "All that talk, and one punch puts you down?"
His pride flared, but before he could recover, I slammed a kick into the side of his head. He went sprawling, crashing against a tree before slumping, dazed.
I turned my gaze on Dylan and Amy, my smile widening into something darker. "Now, now. We still have two more people waiting their turn."
Their fear was palpable. Two days ago, they had beaten the original Arthur like it was nothing. But now, watching Rufus lying motionless, they realized something had changed. Still, desperation hardened their resolve.
Dylan lunged from behind with a roar. I spun and kicked him in the chest, sending him sprawling. Amy, however, unleashed a wave of mental energy, her eyes glowing faintly.
\[A mental attack has been detected.]
\['Perfect Poker' has been activated.]
\[You have nullified the mental attack.]
My smile widened. "Nice trick. Too bad it didn't work."
Her eyes widened in horror as I closed the distance, step by step. Before she could retreat, my fist smashed into her face. Blood sprayed, her nose snapping under the impact. She crumpled to the ground, groaning.
I looked at them, disappointed. They were weak, weaker than I expected. Sighing, I gestured to Rufus and Dylan. "Come here."
They hesitated until I added coldly, "Five seconds. Or it'll get worse."
They shuffled forward, trembling. Amy dragged herself up, blood dripping down her face.
Without warning, I struck Rufus in the gut, making him cough blood as he collapsed again. "Didn't I say within five seconds?"
Silence poured in between us, thick and heavy. The forest listened. Night was almost here, and with it came the kinds of sounds you only notice when you're already on edge.
Their broken forms trembled before me. I was already thinking ahead, to how I would finish this. They wouldn't live past tonight. But it wouldn't be traced back to me. I knew what was coming.
"Walk," I said, and nudged Rufus with my boot. "We're going a little deeper."
I guided them fifty meters farther, where the trees grew closer and the ground's soft give turned treacherous underfoot.
Suddenly ripple shuddered through the forest. The ground trembled faintly as a low growl echoed from the shadows. My lips curled upward. Right on time.
Monsters didn't normally appear this close to the dorms. The grounds were patrolled, the boundaries warded to steer wildlife away. Normally. But I remembered the timing from the game's event schedule. At this hour, on this path, a window opened: something from deeper in the reserve wandered wrong. Not random; corrupted. Demonic stain riding a beast's body like a parasite wearing a fur suit.
The corrupted beast appeared at the edge of the clearing, its body twisted by demonic energy, eyes glowing with feral hunger.
Perfect.