Thrust.
panting.
Sweat trickles down, pooling on the ground beneath.
panting
It had been a 2 days since I holed up inside my room.
I kept practicing my spear art.
if you looked at it from another perspective, the spear would vanish after every thrust, forcing me to reform it again. Then I'd enhance my body, dodging in an imaginary fight, repeating the cycle over and over.
I couldn't stop. If I did, I'd start remembering things I didn't want to.
And of course, that stupid voice rang out again:
< Student Roy. Instructor Grace requests you in Training Room Number Four. Ten minutes. >
I stopped, staring at the sunlight pouring through the window.
My clothes were a mess, my body dripping with sweat.
…Fine. Shower first. Who cares about being late?
After cleaning up and pulling on the academy uniform, I checked the map and headed for Training Room Four.
The hallways were crowded at this time. I let my gaze wander, taking in the scenery without really thinking about it. Students laughed, talked, argued—noise everywhere.
< "Did you see the latest report about the new weapons?" >
< "You look cute today." >
< "Thanks!" >
< "Want to see my new move?" >
< "Hey, save me a seat at lunch!" >
< "No way, did you actually fail the simulation again?" >
< "Shut up, at least I lasted longer than you!" >
Their voices blurred together into meaningless chatter as I walked on.
It was all happening like in the dreams
normal dreams, the kind I'd only ever heard about.
Most things in dreams like that are supposed to be blurry,
The sunlight fell across my face in soft, shifting beams.
The black floor beneath me was so clean, so polished, it reflected everything like a mirror.
A sweet smell of flowers drifted through the air, gentle and almost too perfect.
Everything was blurred at the edges—yet at the same time, impossibly detailed.
At some point, I found myself standing in front of the training room. Voices drifted faintly from inside — a low murmur of movement and speech. As I pushed the door open, a familiar voice rang out, sharp and slightly mocking:
Yet, it resembled only the whispers of fleeting, muted sounds.
"Student Roy, you're late again. I hope you didn't lose your way this time."
I ignored it completely, walked past without a word, and sat down in the nearest free seat
"Today, you will duel some of the top rankers from the Silver Class. I'm sure you understand how important this is for you."
"There's also a healer present, but avoid any attacks with lethal intent. Understood?"
............…
grace POV
After I explained the rules and orders of the duels to the students, my eyes stayed fixed on Roy Carver.
He was different today. Too different. It was like he wasn't even present in the training room. He kept his gaze on the floor, didn't engage with the other students, and didn't listen to a word I said.
Had someone told him?
I doubted it. The information was too confidential — no one knew about it besides me, the principal, and Calix.
I decided to leave it for now.
The door opened, and a group of seven students followed an instructor in orderly formation.
"Hello, Instructor Grace. It's been a while," one of them called.
"Instructor Tallis. It has," I replied.
Tallis — a Stage 4 Sinner — was the instructor for the Silver Class this time. He was a skilled teacher, and his methods produced results. Yet it was his personality that made him widely disliked in the Academy.
He spoke with a smirk, almost teasing.
"Hope your students are ready, because mine certainly are."
"Instructor Tallis," I said flatly, "remember this is not a competition."
After thirty minutes, four duels had been completed. And the results?
Four losses for the Black Class.
It was expected. Most of the students hadn't received proper combat training, or they hated using their Sins and hadn't improved in controlling them.
But the main focus of the Black Class was the three remaining students. Even Tallis knew this — they were the core, the foundation around which the Black Class was formed.
I called out loudly, "Next is Ivan Virell versus Ryan Bolden."
I noticed Ivan's face tighten at the mention of Bolden. Well, I couldn't blame him for that.
Tallis, standing beside me, leaned in with a smirk.
"What do you think about this matchup?"
I kept my tone flat but precise.
"Ivan is a swordsman, Stage 7. His Sin, as far as the Academy's records go, is Force Redirection. His past isn't tragic like the other two remaining students, but what earned him his place here was his sword art — something he inherited after his teacher's death."
I shifted my gaze to Ryan.
"As for Ryan Bolden, Stage 6. Thanks to the training he received from the Bolden family, he's polished — though not from the main line, the family still has high expectations for him. His Sin is strength-enhancement related."
"All the data suggests Ryan will emerge the winner. Which I believe as well… but it won't be an easy victory."