WebNovels

Chapter 6 - The Hound's Kennel

Dawn broke over Luminara City, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, a stark contrast to the grim, gunmetal grey of the Blackwood Vanguard barracks. The compound was a fortress within a fortress, all sharp angles, reinforced permacrete, and the faint, ozone smell of active mana barriers. It was less a military base and more a industrial facility for processing people into weapons.

I stood at the main gate, my heart a drum against my ribs. This was it. The point of no return. The "F-Rank" designation on my temporary pass felt like a brand.

The guard, a hulking man with a C-Rank [Enhanced Physique] aura shimmering around him, scanned my pass with a grunt. "Grey? The anomaly. The Lieutenant is expecting you. Main training yard. Don't keep her waiting." He gestured with a thumb towards a cavernous opening in the central structure.

As I walked, my [Eye of the Mimic] went into a silent frenzy. The Blackwood Vanguard was a treasure trove of power.

DING! [Skill Detected: Iron Hide (B-Rank)] - Replicating... Complete.]

DING! [Skill Detected: Mana Sense (A-Rank)] - Replicating... Complete.]

DING! [Skill Detected: Berserker's Rage (B-Rank)] - Replicating... Complete.]

The skills flooded in, each chime a note in a symphony only I could hear. My dormant arsenal swelled, its passive progression bars inching forward. The [Mana Core Circuit] ticked up to 0.5%. It was working. Just by being here, I was growing stronger.

The main training yard was a brutalist expanse of hard-packed earth, dotted with advanced training dummies and obstacle courses that looked designed to break bones. A group of about twenty recruits stood at attention. They were a mix of D and C-Ranks, their auras flaring with barely contained energy and arrogance. These weren't hopeless cases; they were the disciplinary problems, the misfits with rough edges that other guilds didn't want to polish.

And then there was me.

A snicker ran through the group as I approached. "Look what the cat dragged in," a lanky boy with a [Gale Step (C-Rank)] aura muttered. "An F-Rank? Seriously?"

Standing before them was the woman from the evaluation. She was even more imposing in form-fitting combat gear, a single, jagged scar running from her temple to her jaw. Her eyes, the color of flint, scanned the recruits before landing on me.

"I am Lieutenant Valeriana," she announced, her voice cutting through the morning air like a whip. "You are all here because you are flawed. Unruly. Inefficient. Or in one case," her gaze pinned me, "a complete statistical aberration. The Blackwood Vanguard doesn't coddle talent. We break it down and rebuild it into something useful. You are not Hunters. You are hounds. And this is your kennel."

The romantic conflict from Elara felt a world away here. This was a different kind of conflict—raw, brutal, and survival-based.

"Your first test is simple," Valeriana continued. "Sparring. We need to establish a baseline. See what we have to work with." A cruel smile touched her lips. "Grey. You're up first. Against Kael."

My stomach dropped. Kael, the C-Rank Pugilist from my district, the one whose [Fist of the Boulder] was my first replicated skill, stepped forward from the group. He looked uncomfortable, avoiding my eyes.

"Lieutenant, with all due respect, he's an F-Rank," Kael said, his voice low. "I could seriously hurt him."

"That is a risk we are willing to take," Valeriana replied coolly. "Now, fight."

The other recruits formed a loose circle, their expressions a mix of boredom and morbid curiosity. Kael sighed and settled into a fighting stance. His [Fist of the Boulder] aura intensified, his fists taking on a stony, grey texture.

I stood there, feeling utterly exposed. My body was F-Rank. My stats were abysmal. But I had his skill. I had it at 31% progression, sleeping inside me. The urge to try and access it, to meet force with force, was overwhelming. But I couldn't. The backlash from the A-Rank skill had nearly broken me; forcing a C-Rank skill through my crippled channels would still be noticeable, an anomaly that would raise even more questions.

I had to lose. And I had to lose convincingly.

"Come on, Leon. Make a move," Kael said, almost pleadingly.

I charged him. It was a clumsy, telegraphed lunge anyone with combat perception could see coming. Kael sidestepped easily and delivered a light, controlled jab to my ribs.

It felt like being hit by a sledgehammer. The air whooshed out of my lungs, and I crumpled to the ground, gasping. Pain, bright and sharp, flared through my side. It was a world away from the ethereal agony of mana backlash; this was brutally, physically real.

"Pathetic," Valeriana stated, not with malice, but with clinical disappointment. "Get up."

I struggled to my feet, my vision swimming.

"Again."

This went on for what felt like an eternity. I'd lunge, I'd swing, I'd fall. Kael, to his credit, pulled his punches, but each one was a fresh lesson in my own physical inadequacy. The other recruits watched, their initial mockery fading into a kind of pitying contempt. I was the bottom of the barrel. The proof of what happened when you had no power.

But with every fall, every grunt of pain, I was learning. My [Combat Perception (F-Rank)], which I had dismissed as useless, was actually being forced to work. I began to see the subtle shifts in Kael's weight, the minute telegraphing of his moves. I couldn't do anything about it, but I was seeing it.

And then, during a brief pause as Kael let me get up again, a new chime sounded.

[Passive Skill Evolution Triggered!]

[Combat Perception (F-Rank)] has met necessary conditions for growth.]

[Evolving to: Analytical Combat Sight (D-Rank)]

A wave of clarity washed over me. The world seemed to slow down. When Kael next moved, I didn't just see his motion; I saw the potential trajectories. A faint, predictive ghost-image of his fist appeared, showing me where it would land a split second before it did. It was still too fast for my F-Rank body to dodge, but the knowledge was there.

I took the hit, rolling with the impact slightly better than before.

Valeriana's eyes, which had been half-lidded with boredom, sharpened. "Hmm. He's adapting. Not physically, but mentally. The body is F-Rank, but the mind... there's something there." She made a note on her data-slate. "That's enough. Kael, fall in. Grey, go to the med-bay and get patched up. Then report to the logistics office for your assignment."

As I limped away, the taste of blood and dirt in my mouth, I felt a strange sense of triumph. I had passed their test by failing perfectly. I had hidden my power and still shown a glimmer of something "unique" to keep their interest. The phantom had been bloodied and deemed acceptable.

The med-bay was a sterile, white room. A healer with a [Minor Regeneration (C-Rank)] aura directed me to a cot. As she worked, her hands glowing with soft green light, I felt the bruising on my ribs fade.

And then, a new, deeply unsettling chime echoed in my mind.

[Unique Passive Skill Detected: Cellular Empathy (A-Rank)]

[This skill allows the user to subconsciously sense and replicate the biological and mana-based traits of others through prolonged proximity.]

[WARNING: Skill is inherently tied to the user's life force. Replication will be slow and resource-intensive.]

[Initiating Replication... 0.1%...]

My blood ran cold. This wasn't copying a fireball or a fist technique. This was copying the very essence of a person. Their biology. Their potential. What would happen if I replicated this? Could I passively, over time, copy the superior physical stats of a B-Rank? Could I change my own F-Rank vessel?

The implications were terrifying and exhilarating. The road to lordhood wasn't just about collecting skills anymore. It was about rebuilding the very foundation of my being.

I left the med-bay, my body healed but my mind reeling. My assignment in the logistics office was to sort incoming dungeon loot—a menial task perfect for an F-Rank. But as I handled a monster core, another chime sounded.

[Item Analysis Complete: Lesser Drake's Core.]

[Passive Skill Blueprint Detected: Drake's Vitality (B-Rank).]

[Replication requires physical contact and mana absorption. Initiating...]

I nearly dropped the core. I could replicate skills from objects too?

The kennel was full of dangers. But it was also, I realized with dawning awe, a place of limitless opportunity. The hound they thought they were breaking was, in fact, learning to hunt in a way they could never comprehend.

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