Swords, daggers, halberds—an assortment of weapons materialized as the students summoned their Blessings. Adam watched the instructor retreat with a gleam in her eyes, like a spectator awaiting a spectacle. More students trickled in, promptly assigned to groups and briefed without question.
There was no room for negotiation; they either obeyed or suffered the fallout.
The first group surrounded Adam but hesitated. Only two of the five carried weapons. His gaze lingered on the unarmed trio—their fists were hardening, turning to stone.
“Hey!” a girl called out. “Now that we can use our Blessings, I’d advise you not to try anything stupid. If you surrender, you’ll get expelled, sure—but that’s still better than taking a beating and getting expelled. So, what do you say?”
Adam smirked. “Your advice works both ways.” He crossed his arms. “You think you have the upper hand just because she gave you permission?” His eyes swept over the group. “Trust me, you’re all going to regret this.”
“Enough talk!” the instructor barked. “First group—move! If you’re not fighting, you’re out!”
The students flinched at her tone.
Adam didn’t move. System messages flickered before his eyes, linking him to his Omen. He ignored them, gaze fixed on his opponents.
Manipulator should be enough to handle this.
One notification caught his attention:
[Manipulation Range: 50m]
A thin smile curved his lips. Let’s see how good this title really is.
“We gave you a chance, but—” The girl never finished. Adam’s form blurred, and he reappeared before her like a phantom.
His uppercut snapped her head back and lifted her off her feet. She was unconscious before she fell. Adam caught her by the ankles and, with a flick, hurled her into a nearby student wielding a staff.
They crashed together, bodies crumpling into a heap. The girl bled from her nose and mouth; the young man’s face split open, his nose fractured and his brow cut deep.
“Spread out!” the last woman shouted. “He’s got a body-modification Blessing—don’t get close!”
The remaining two men obeyed instantly.
Adam raised his right arm and clenched at the air. “That’s useless.”
Confusion flickered across their faces—then horror—as the woman’s sword trembled in her hand. It ripped free and soared toward Adam, spinning in midair before turning to face its former owner.
“It seems to like you,” Adam said with a grin. “You can have it back.”
The silver blade shot forward, impaling her stomach. She gasped, blood splattering across the floor. Adam appeared before her in the same instant, his hand closing around her throat. He lifted her easily, her feet kicking helplessly.
“Don’t you dare touch her!” one of the men shouted.
Adam tilted his head, watching them charge. His smile widened. He twisted the sword still lodged in her gut, and her screams tore through the hall.
“Are you insane?! Let her go and fight us like a man!”
“Or what?” Adam’s voice dropped low, cold. “You think this is a game?”
He drove the sword deeper. Her body convulsed, then went still, her hands slipping from his arm.
“I told you,” Adam said, his voice echoing through the chamber, “this won’t end with just tears and broken bones. If you want to use me as a stepping stone, be ready to stake your life.”
He hurled her corpse aside. Blood streaked his hand as he turned to the last two.
“Now,” he said softly, “who’s next?”
Neither man answered. Their mouths opened, but no words came. Their eyes trembled; their legs shook.
“Well?” Adam taunted.
They took a step back.
“Next group, proceed!” the instructor called.
No one moved.
“Third group, proceed!”
Silence.
Then—a wet cough broke the tension. The woman Adam had skewered was breathing again, blood bubbling at her lips. The others stirred, their wounds closing under a faint blue glow.
Adam frowned. That healing again…
His gaze locked on the woman he’d strangled. Her lips moved as if to speak, but when her eyes met his they went blank. She scrambled backward, gagging on air—no calm, no relief—only raw terror. The wounds had closed, but whatever broke inside her when he skewered her hadn’t healed.
Adam chuckled while shaking his head. It seems the healing doesn’t extend to psychological injuries.
“Fourth group, proceed.”
No one moved.
“Fifth group, proceed.”
At last, footsteps echoed. A young man wielding a mace stepped forward—but when Adam met his eyes, the student froze mid-step. Adam smirked and curled a finger, beckoning him closer. The boy paled and backed away, gaze fixed on the floor.
No one laughed at him. None dared. Most hadn’t found the courage to step forward in the first place.
“The two of you—step out,” the instructor called, pointing toward another pair. “Unless you’d rather wait for reinforcements?”
“We’ll proceed,” they said together.
“Good,” she replied with a sharp clap. “You know what you’re up against. Fight to your heart’s content. Ten minutes.”
The crowd parted. Two students emerged.
One was round as a boulder, towering over six feet. His uniform quivered with every step, hands clasped over his bald head. Though his eyes were closed, he’d walked the entire way without bumping into anyone. The other wore a baggy uniform that hid his thin frame. A gray muzzle covered his mouth and nose, leaving only dark eyes visible. Barely five feet tall, he looked like a dwarf beside his mountainous partner.
They stopped three meters away.
“I seriously admire your work,” the shorter one said, voice smooth and deep. “It’s rare to see someone here who isn’t a pampered prick. You even killed one of them to make a point—simply beautiful.”
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The muzzled youth clapped, his loose sleeves flapping wildly.
“My name’s Garrett Walsh,” he continued. “The tub of lard over there is Tao Hong. Forgive him—he doesn’t talk much. Unlike these fancy bitches, we come from a nice little place where you’ve got to do nasty things to stay alive—”
“I don’t give a fuck,” Adam cut in flatly.
Tao Hong let out a series of strange, seal-like cries.
“Oh?” Garrett tilted his head. “Seems tubby can’t wait any longer. Let’s both have fun, shall we?”
As soon as he spoke, Hong’s eyes snapped open. Adam’s vision blurred for an instant. The man’s eyes were colorless—pure white, without even a hint of black.
At that same moment, Garrett’s body began to convulse. Bones cracked, flesh bulged, and his uniform tore apart as his muscles expanded grotesquely. Meanwhile, Hong’s body shrank, his blubber vanishing until only lean, honed muscle remained.
A pale frost gathered along their arms. The temperature dropped sharply. Breath misted in the air.
“Snow? They’re Elementals?” someone whispered, the words slicing through the silence.
Adam’s eyes narrowed. This isn’t going to be easy.
Unlike the earlier opponents, these two radiated a refined, focused bloodlust—the kind only killers learned to master.
Adam stared at the pair; they stared back. Students slid away at the edges of his vision, but he ignored them.
“They expect a show. Let’s not disappoint.” Garrett’s voice was bright as he watched the retreating crowd, then snapped back to Adam. “Since it’s two against one, we’ll give you the first—”
They moved like coiled snakes. Garrett lunged for the skull; Tao Hong aimed low for the legs. Ice sheathed their arms, jagged rime clinging to their boots; a lattice of deep-blue veins crept across their necks.
Adam watched them close, a smile shaping his lips.
System, adjust my stats to battle mode.
[BATTLE MODE: CON 0 (-20) | AGI 38 (+20) | END 40 (+10) | DEX 0 (-20) | STR 30 (+10)]
The title granted him control over innate items in a fifty-meter radius, and the ability to reallocate his own stats on the fly.
Garrett and Hong were almost upon him. Barely inches from impact, Adam moved with brutal precision.
“Refined bloodlust doesn’t make you better than those pampered brats,” he whispered.
They rolled aside, widening the angle.
“Axe.” He spoke it like a command. A battle-axe materialized and hurtled from his palm with the force of his altered strength.
The axe arced toward them. Garrett vaulted over it; Hong screamed as both his legs were sheared away cleanly.
“Use the ice—stop the bleeding!” Garrett barked.
“How confident,” Adam said, watching Garrett turn his head away. “Turning your back on your opponent.”
“Spear.” The word left him, and the spear struck Garrett in the back the instant his feet hit the ground. He coughed bright blood.
Adam followed with a brutal palm to the temple and swept Garrett’s legs. The man skidded across the floor.
“Spear.” Again and again, Adam called. Spears erupted from the floor, dozens of them, until more than twenty hovered around him, ten above each Elemental. He lifted his hands; the weapons obeyed.
Then he dropped them. The spears drove through flesh. Hong’s wails cut the air as both men slumped, impaled.
The students nearby recoiled. Some sank to their knees. The instructor’s smile flashed; Adam returned it with one of his own.
“This round goes to you,” Garrett managed, voice strangled.
“See you soon,” he rasped as the blue light washed the room. The spears dissolved. Wounds sealed.
Adam murmured commands—axes now, dozens manifesting—and watched them spin above the recovering men. He lowered his hand; the axes lunged and struck an invisible barrier, clanging to the floor.
I can’t touch them while they’re healing. He frowned. No matter.
He summoned more. The blue glow faded. Hong and Garrett moved; the weapons circled above them like hungry birds.
Garrett laughed. “We made a mistake.”
Adam’s hand began to fall, and then his stomach seized.
Hunger, primal and all-consuming, ripped through him. He dropped to his knees, clutching his gut. The weapons slipped from his control and clattered to the marble.
There are so many delicacies around us. Tear them to shreds. It will stop the hunger. Stop resisting… The voice in his head cooed with craving.
“Shut up!” Adam roared.
“Adam, our meal approaches. Tear him to pieces!” the voice urged again.
He raised his head. Hong loomed above him. Before Adam could steady himself, fists smashed the back of his skull. Pain exploded; then a cascade of boots rained down—head, chest, back—Hong’s ice-clad feet pounding like sledgehammers.
I can’t control it… Adam tried to rise but collapsed as boot after boot drove in. “Get away! I can’t—” he bellowed, but the stomps continued. Blood slicked the ice.
“Tao, let me have some fun!” Garrett called, voice elated.
On the twentieth stomp Adam clung to Hong’s left leg and squeezed. Hong screamed; Adam’s grip tightened like a vice. Bones snapped; a wet, sick sound echoed. Hong howled.
Adam’s voice—raw, visceral—filled the hall. “I told you to stop! Why didn’t you listen?!”
Then something snapped inside him. Instantly he heaved himself upright. With a single, vicious twist of his wrist the leg came away in his hands—bone, black ice, and all. Hong’s shriek was a high, inhuman note. Blood sprayed across the polished floor.
Adam stood, chest heaving, the severed limb clutched like a trophy. The room smelled of iron and melted frost.
Adam held Hong’s severed foot aloft. Icy water and warm blood dripped over his skin, but his gaze never left Hong’s face.
When Adam let go, the limb dropped to the floor with a wet plop, and Hong’s wails ricocheted off the marble.
Garrett crawled backward a few meters. His knees trembled; dampness stained the groin of his uniform. Fear twisted his features.
“Devour them!” the voice hissed in Adam’s head. “They’re worms. Tear them apart. It will stop the hunger—”
Adam took a step forward.
“Stay away from me! I quit! I quit!” Garrett cried.
Adam didn’t stop. The blood that had slid down Hong’s flesh left a smear on Adam’s lips; he tasted it and licked his mouth.
[Skill: Devourer — stabilized]
The hunger receded as suddenly as it had struck. Adam blinked. He tasted iron on his tongue and watched Garrett panic harder. Adam’s smile widened as he took another step forward.
“That’s enough.” Arlette intercepted them, stepping between Adam and Garrett. “We’ll continue training tomorrow.” She frowned. “You want to keep going?”
Adam gave a soft chuckle but did not advance. He glanced once at Garrett, then at Hong, still writhing. Wordlessly he retreated to the periphery; the students in that corner fled like leaves in a storm.
Arlette studied him as he left. Cuts laced his back; his uniform hung torn in several places.
Someone highly skilled trained this brat, she thought, arms folded. One Blessing shouldn’t grant that weapon control and that speed. Dual Blessings? Impossible — he wouldn’t be here if he had them.
The sour scent in her nostrils made her glance at Garrett; the boy’s hands trembled and he muttered nonsense, unable to steady himself. Hong’s severed limb lay like discarded meat.
He’s adept at crushing opponents—physically and mentally, she noted. At seventeen, this was abnormal.
A small smile curled her lip as she catalogued anomalies. His sudden collapse earlier, he had gone from predator to rag without warning. And that repulsive sensation she’d caught? Where had it come from?
She scanned the remaining students: fear, shame, nerves; a dozen emotions layered across the crowd.
“This is nothing compared to the dungeons,” she said, voice clear, hard as steel. “Out there, mistakes are punished with death.”
The lights flicked blue. Arlette stepped forward. “In your own interest, many of you should drop out.”
She looked around; most avoided her gaze. “Ona, Daphen, Garrett, and Hong,” she continued, naming them with a blade in her tone. “You four passed. You have permission to enter subset dungeons within the Academy to train.”
Garrett and Hong remained collapsed, still under the aftershock of pain; the two women who’d been struck by Adam’s blows had been healed but did not rise in triumph.
“If you can’t recover from something this simple, forget graduating,” Arlette snapped. “Varidan has no use for cowards. You can fuck off for all I care.”
A few students stiffened; the two women’s eyes burned with a new, hungry competition. Arlette’s mouth softened into something like approval. “That’s more like it.”
“Those four are free to attend general classes. Come back when you need to loosen your bones.”
Portals bloomed beneath the two women. As Arlette finished, Garrett and Hong vanished too.
Arlette swept her gaze across the remaining students, eyes narrowing. “The rest of you have three months to give me a reason not to break your legs and toss you out. If you can’t handle my training, then fuck off back to whatever hole you crawled out of. I want to see every one of you tonight!” she roared. “Get out of my presence.”
A ripple of portals swallowed the students, everyone except Adam.
She closed the distance to him in slow, deliberate steps and stopped a breath away. “For the record, I don’t approve of your choice, but I can’t stop you.”
Adam smirked.
Arlette’s jaw clenched. “Skill means little when everyone around you is weak,” she said. “You have my permission to accept missions. You don’t need more combat training.”
“What do I do next?” he asked.
“That’s not my job.” Her tone snapped like a wire. “Use your Blessing wisely. Demons and their kin won’t give you time to recover if you’re exhausted. You may leave.”
A portal opened and swallowed him.
“Kids these days are ridiculously weak,” she muttered, re-tucking a strand of hair.
Her trench coat shivered with a faint vibration. Arlette glanced down: the crystal atop the coat trembled and flared blue in her palm. A voice erupted; angry and incredulous.
“Arlette! You silly girl. Did you come into this life to make mine miserable?”
“Dean Hensley, I can explain—”
“Shut up!” the dean snapped through the crystal. “Do you think I enjoy being scolded by the elders? How in hell did you allow multiple deaths during a routine orientation? Were you attempting a record?”
“Dean—”
“Shut up!” she barked again. “Get to my office—now! You love fighting, don’t you? I’ll give you the fight of your life!”
Arlette’s mouth opened; her protest died as the crystal shifted from blue to white. A portal bloomed beneath her feet.
“Aunt, please wait—” she began, and then the floor swallowed her.

