The soreness still clung to Wads like a second skin. Every muscle in his shoulders and back throbbed faintly from the duel with Klyden, each step reminding him of the force behind every blow they exchanged. He'd learned more in those few minutes than in weeks of sparring with anyone else.
Klyden was like a wall—unyielding, grounded, and impossible to break through without strategy.
But Wads had something else: the overwhelming edge of his Diety power.
The problem? His body couldn't keep up with it yet. Every time he pushed it too far, it ate into his stamina like fire consuming paper.
He sat cross-legged on his bed that night, running through the fight again in his head.
Klyden's reflexes... his control over his weight and balance… he could overpower me in close range anytime he wanted. But he couldn't read me once I started using Ren. The problem is... Ren tears me apart from the inside if I hold it too long. It's like I'm trying to pilot a ship in a storm with a cracked hull.
The next morning, while Keiya was still asleep in the dorm, Wads slipped out quietly. His training shifted—less focus on raw output, more on strengthening his core, lungs, and reflexes without relying on Ren. He ran sprints before sunrise, practiced complex movement drills until his legs burned, and still attended every class. At night, he worked on meditation exercises to sharpen his mental calculations.
But after a few days, he realized he'd plateaued.
He needed more than self-study.
---
Mr. Jabwel's classroom always had a faint scent of incense, the air thick with a calm intensity that demanded focus. The man himself was hard to miss—long, jet-black hair tied loosely behind his back, sharp eyes that seemed to see through every thought, and a lean build that hinted at dangerous precision.
"You're Wads, correct?" Jabwel's voice was deep but not unkind.
"Yes, sir," Wads said, bowing slightly. "I was hoping you could teach me… how to handle the strain of my Diety power better. Ren is powerful, but I—"
"—can't sustain it without breaking yourself apart," Jabwel finished for him, a faint smirk forming. "I've seen that problem before. Sit."
Wads obeyed, listening intently as the professor drew a diagram on the board—lines of energy flow mapped from the center of the chest, through the arms, legs, and head.
"You're forcing your mind into a hypercognitive state," Jabwel explained. "That acceleration doesn't just burn stamina—it burns focus. You must think of your body as a vessel. The stronger and more stable it is, the longer you can channel Ren without collapse."
The tips were strange, but they made sense:
Anchor breathing — deep, controlled breaths that align the Diety flow with his heartbeat.
Pulse channeling — pushing energy in timed bursts rather than letting it flood uncontrolled.
Micro-cycles — intentionally snapping Ren on and off in rapid intervals to build tolerance.
It wasn't instant improvement, but after a week of these methods, Wads could feel the difference. His body didn't tremble as quickly. The mental strain was still there, but less suffocating.
---
One evening, sweat soaking his shirt, Wads sat in the training hall staring at his hands. His fingers no longer shook as much after using Ren.
A stronger foundation… a sharper mind… I'll need both.
The sound of heavy doors creaking open interrupted his thoughts.
A student runner, panting, called out, "All students are to gather in the Hall of Fame—immediately!"
---
The hall was already packed when Wads arrived. Murmurs filled the air, faces turned toward the massive crystal display at the front. Professors lined the stage, their expressions grave but energized.
The headmaster stepped forward. "Students of Zhero, in six weeks' time, the Colosseum Arena will open for the Grand Convergence—a tradition older than this academy itself. You will face trials that test both your individual strength and your unity as a class."
Gasps and whispers rippled through the crowd.
"There will be three events," the headmaster continued. "Class versus class combat. Group battles. And… individual duels." His eyes swept the hall, lingering briefly on the stronger students. "Use these weeks wisely. What you build now will decide your fate."
The room buzzed with excitement and tension. Wads felt his pulse quicken—not from fear, but from the burning need to prove himself. This was no longer just training for the sake of growth. This was a battlefield waiting for him.
And this time, he intended to walk in ready.