039 STRENGTH SKILLS?
Damen looked up to Zairgid hopefully. "Then how? How did you activate Camouflage?"
Zairgid smirked faintly, his tone casual. "You have to fear. Real fear. That's the key." He turned away, already heading back to his own bed.
Damen frowned. Fear? He had always known it… or so he thought.
Then he realized it.
He was a contrast to Zairgid who was born with everything. Losing his life meant losing everything that he had… that was real fear.
He grew up pitiful, with nothing and no one. He lived recklessly, uncaring whether he lived or died because living was as painful as dead.
"What did I truly have to lose if I died?"
But now…
He clenched his fists. He thought of the medals of his parents. Of the soldier who had fallen saving him. Of the life he had begun to build, fragile as it was.
He wanted to live. He wanted to keep what little he had.
And in that moment, he felt it—his body dissolve into the environment, his form blending perfectly with the shadows of his bed.
Gasps rippled through the room. The others were shocked by his disappearance.
"Where did he go?"
"Did he just turn invisible?"
Damen ignored them.
He practiced again and again, slipping in and out of Camouflage, forcing himself to hold it longer, smoother, until exhaustion tugged at his eyelids.
By morning, he sat upright on his bunk, dark circles under his eyes but a smile playing on his lips. He had command of Camouflage now.
It was his.
He understood now what real fear was. It wasn't the fear of death. It was the fear of losing everything he had. That was real fear.
Suddenly, the overhead lights blazed to life. A sergeant stormed in, his boots echoing against the steel floor.
"Wake up, all of you! It's time for your mission. Get ready!"
-----
The students filed into the large hall, its tiered seating arranged more like a lecture theater than a war room. The chatter dimmed as Mr. Stamyre stepped onto the stage, microphone in hand.
The lights faded. A projector whirred to life, casting a grainy video on the wall behind him.
A shadowy beast prowled across the screen—its form shifting, semi-ethereal, its body crawling with writhing scarabs.
"This," Mr. Stamyre began, his voice steady, "is the Shadow Hound of Anubis."
The footage showed the creature phasing through walls, then lunging at soldiers, its body becoming solid only at the moment of attack.
"At night, the Shadow Hound is almost invisible," he continued. "It takes on flesh and blood only in combat. That is the only time it can be harmed."
When the video ended, a broad-shouldered man in uniform stepped forward. His presence filled the hall—it was Captain Greene.
"The Shadow Hound can only be killed while in combat mode," he said. "Any Rank F or higher weapon, or a Meta skill of equivalent grade, can wound or kill it."
Mr. Stamyre glanced across the hall. "Questions?"
Silence. Dozens of students shifted uncomfortably, staring at their notes, their phones, anywhere but the screen.
Then, unexpectedly, a hand shot up.
It was Damen.
Without waiting for acknowledgment, he asked, "Does the Shadow Hound have weak points? Places where it's most vulnerable?"
A ripple of murmurs passed through the students.
Captain Greene fixed his gaze on Damen, and for a brief moment, there was respect in his eyes. Few students ever asked how to kill the monster—most only wanted to know how to hide.
The screen flickered again, now displaying an anatomical chart of the hound.
"The neck," Captain Greene said, pointing to a highlighted section. "Strike there, and you can cripple it. A direct, powerful blow might even kill it outright."
Damen held up his dagger. "Could its neck be broken with this?"
The room broke into low laughter and whispers.
"Is he serious?"
"A dagger? Against that thing?"
"He'd be dead before he got close…"
Captain Greene didn't laugh.
Instead, a small smile tugged at the edge of his mouth. "That dagger of yours won't do…" He paused, studying Damen carefully, before adding, "…but if you're serious, come to me after this briefing. I may have something for you."
The hall quieted again as the briefing continued. The mission was outlined:
Students would patrol the perimeter of Fortress Myrone at dawn, collecting carcasses of Shadow Hounds slain during the night.
The beasts' remains could be dismantled for rare resources and forged into Meta artifacts. Selling them was a crucial income for the fortress.
"See? Told you we're here to work for free," Zairgid muttered beside Damen, smirking.
The task wasn't glamorous. Cleanup duty, scavenging the battlefield.
With the forces in the fortress stretched thin, students from Meta Highs and Military Highs had to bear the burden. They were forced conscripted from their school to come here for such tasks under the name of scientific expedition.
When the briefing ended, Damen rose and made his way to the front. He stopped before Captain Greene and gave a crisp salute.
The captain returned it, his eyes narrowing in appraisal. "Which Military High are you from kid?"
"No, sir. I'm from Meta High No. 2."
Greene's brows lifted in surprise. "Meta High? Few metas from there have the stomach for combat."
Damen's voice was steady, but his chest tightened as he spoke. "A soldier saved my life yesterday. He died in front of me. If I had been stronger… if I had known how to fight… maybe he'd still be alive."
The captain studied him in silence for a long moment. His jaw tightened. Then he nodded once.
"Come with me," he said. "To the training center."
Damen followed without hesitation.
-----
Captain Greene led Damen through the corridors of Fortress Myrone until they arrived at the training center.
Damen had expected something sleek and high-tech, but to his surprise, much of it looked no better than Heroes' Gym back in the city. Lathes and industrial machines stood beside armored tanks and reinforced training rooms.
It was both a workshop—where soldiers assembled and modified their weapons—and a combat facility, all merged into one.
"Didn't expect the budget for the first line of humanity's defense against an alien invasion is so poor?" Damen murmured.
Green overheard him.
"You are not wrong boy, our facility is poor compared to the city. The major families have been limiting the supply of the best equipment to us for years", Captain Green said, sighing before adding, "but a kid like you won't understand."
"Are the major families stupid? If they don't give the best to the fortress, what if it falls? They would be next on the alien's menu?" Damen burst out.
Captain Green merely frowned. The topic wasn't one he would like to discuss with a kid.
Then something caught Damen's attention- the sealed chambers lining one wall. Each had a heavy metal door etched with faintly glowing glyphs.
"What are those rooms for?" Damen asked, nodding toward them.
Greene followed his gaze. "Training simulators. They're designed to sharpen specific combat specialties. We've developed proprietary techniques that fully exploit our Meta Strengths. With enough refinement, raw attributes like Strength can be forged into combat skills that rival—" he paused, then added deliberately, "or even surpass certain Meta abilities."
Damen blinked. "You're saying combat skills can be pushed that far? To the point they can match Meta skills?"