(Arin's POV)
CLANG!
The dull and heavy sound of metal clashing echoed throughout the outdoor training arena. It was not the sharp ring of swords meeting beautifully, but a heavy, dense sound implying brutal, pure violence.
I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the cooling afternoon air, then exhaled slowly through clenched teeth. Thin white steam billowed from my mouth, the residual heat of metabolism forced into overdrive amidst the cold air.
Before me, a black iron post as thick as an adult's thigh stood solid and unyielding. Its cold, rough surface was now stained with dark red spots beginning to dry.
That was my own blood.
"Nine hundred ninety-eight..." I counted in my heart with a steady rhythm.
I clenched my right fist once more. My knuckles were broken, the skin peeled off completely, revealing red flesh that throbbed painfully every time it was exposed to air. However, the pain felt distant and dull. The Grizzly Serum in my blood worked overtime ceaselessly, closing micro-wounds as soon as they formed, creating a brutal yet effective cycle of damage and regeneration.
This was the ancient Conditioning method taught by Instructor Brook. A primitive method to densify bones to be as hard as forged steel.
CLANG!
"Nine hundred ninety-nine," I mumbled.
The vibration of the impact traveled wildly from my fist, up my arm, vibrating my molars painfully.
I used not a shred of Aura. I did not use the Feather-Touch Glove for protection. There were only muscles, bones, and the laws of physics at work.
Around me, the sound of other activities began to be heard. However, unlike previous months where I trained alone in isolation or was mocked, this time the atmosphere felt very different.
"Brother Arin, sorry to interrupt. Is my stance too low?"
A thin Class C student asked hesitantly from the side. He was trying to mimic the technique of hitting a wooden post, though his hands were already trembling violently from exhaustion.
I paused for a moment, wiping the sweat flooding my forehead with a sleeve already dirty with dust and dried blood. I turned to him. His name was Liam, if my memory served me right.
"Your knees look too stiff, Liam," I answered, my voice sounding a bit hoarse from dehydration. "Do not fight the recoil force with your waist muscles. Channel that vibration into the ground through your heels. If you hold it in your waist, your spine will crack."
Liam nodded enthusiastically, his eyes shining with sincere respect. "Right! I understand! Thank you, Brother!"
It wasn't just Liam paying attention. In other corners of the arena, several Class C students and even a handful of "neutral" Class B students were training hard. They occasionally glanced at me secretly. Not with the condescending gaze like before, but a gaze that made me a benchmark of strength.
However, the praise and admiration did not make me careless or big-headed. Quite the opposite; every pair of eyes staring at me felt like needles pricking my skin.
My eyes moved warily, scanning those friendly faces one by one with reasonable paranoia.
Who among them is paid by Vesper? my mind wondered suspiciously. Who will stab me in the back later in the Dungeon?
Since Tom told me about Vesper's extensive spy network, I couldn't trust anyone fully except my inner circle. A friendly smile could be a fake mask. Innocent questions about techniques could be a cunning way to gather data on my weaknesses.
"One thousand," I muttered firmly, unleashing the final punch onto the iron post with remaining strength.
CLANG!
The solid iron post vibrated violently. A new shallow dent was clearly imprinted on its surface.
I took a step back, regulating my ragged breathing.
Two weeks.
According to Elena's plan last night in the library, we had two weeks to prepare a deadly trap for Vesper. In that one month, Elena would be busy lobbying academy rules, Rose would be a noisy distraction, and I...
I had to ensure my body didn't shatter apart when using the newly created "Internal Combustion Capsule."
The blood pressure generated by that pure oxygen explosion could burst my blood vessels instantly if the vessel was still fragile. I needed durability to become harder, denser, and more resilient than anyone else.
"Your technique is getting neater, Kid. But you still hit like someone afraid their hand will break."
A heavy and rough voice, accompanied by the crisp crunch sound of someone biting an apple, was heard from behind me.
Activity in the arena stopped instantly. Class C students immediately straightened up, saluting nervously and fearfully.
Instructor Brook walked closer casually. The Dwarf man, short but as wide as a wardrobe, wore a sleeveless black instructor uniform, showing off arm muscles covered in battle scars. He chewed a green apple casually, yet his sharp eyes stared at me like an eagle staring at a rabbit prey.
"Good afternoon, Instructor," I greeted politely, trying to hide my hands trembling from extreme fatigue.
Brook did not return my greeting. He immediately grabbed my right wrist roughly, lifting it high for inspection. His calloused fingers pressed my bruised and swollen knuckles.
"Hurt?" he asked flatly without emotion.
"A little," I lied. It felt like being burned by hellfire.
Brook snorted dismissively. "Liar. Your bones are screaming for mercy. But..." He pressed harder on one spot, making me grimace holding back a groan. "Density has increased. Calcium in your bones solidifies faster than normal humans. Side effect of your serum 'diet', huh?"
He knew. Of course he knew. Brook was the best physical expert in the academy; he knew my body was abnormal from day one.
"Maybe because I drink milk diligently every morning, Sir," I evaded diplomatically.
Brook released my hand roughly until it fell to my side. He threw his apple core into the trash bin in the corner of the arena with an accurate throw without looking.
"You can hit inanimate objects hard, Arin. You can cut leaves in the air. Even destroy the armor of that arrogant Class B student," said Brook while walking around me slowly. His footsteps were heavy, as if every step had excess weight pressing the floor.
"But the question is... how hard can you be hit back without dying?"
I frowned in confusion. "You mean, body endurance?"
"Structural Integrity," corrected Brook sharply. He stopped right in front of me. His height was only up to my shoulder, but it felt like he was looking down on me from a height. "Your enemy in the Dungeon later is not a silent iron post. Nor spoiled children who panic when hit once."
Brook pointed to my chest with his hard index finger.
"Arin, your attacks are deadly, but if you are touched even a little with real strength... you will shatter into pieces."
Those words struck right at the heart. He was right. I always relied on speed, surprise attacks, or cunning tricks to avoid direct impact. When fighting the Silver Golem or Alpha Wolf, every time I took a direct hit, I almost died or broke bones severely.
"So, what is your advice, Instructor?" I asked seriously.
Brook grinned widely, displaying his strong white teeth. He walked to the weapon rack at the edge of the arena. Instead of taking a practice sword, he took a dull Battleaxe made of solid black iron.
The weapon probably weighed fifty kilograms, but Brook held it with one hand as if it were a light plastic toy.
"One strike," said Brook, spinning the axe in his hand easily. The sound of wind generated by the spin sounded heavy and terrifying.
Vwoom. Vwoom.
Students around us retreated orderly in panic, forming a very wide circle. Their faces were deathly pale. They knew Brook's reputation as the most sadistic instructor.
"Look! Brother Arin is going to be tortured again by Instructor Brook!"
"Does he always treat Arin like this?"
"Are you new here? Brook never shows mercy when training Arin."
"HAHAHAHA."
Those damn students just watched from the sidelines as if seeing my suffering was entertainment. Damn it! Just you wait. If you ask to be trained by me, I will make sure you feel the same hell.
"Withstand one strike from me, Arin," challenged Brook. His eyes flashed challengingly, ignoring the students' commotion. "You do not need to win. You do not need to attack back. Just withstand, and do not die. Prove to me that your bones are not made of thin glass."
I swallowed dry saliva. My heart beat fast spurring adrenaline.
This was not ordinary sparring, but a life and death test.
"With all due respect, Instructor... you are a Master," I said, my hand moving to draw the Adamantium sword from my back as the only hope. "If you are serious, I will be meat porridge."
"Then be hard porridge," answered Brook casually.
He began channeling mana throughout his body.
And right then, the atmosphere in the arena changed drastically.
The air around Brook suddenly felt heavy. Not a mere figure of speech. Air pressure literally dropped, making breathing feel tight and heavy. Dust on the arena floor did not fly, but was pressed flat to the ground as if a giant hand were holding it down.
THUMP.
This sensation... very familiar.
Cold sweat poured down my back. I had felt this before. At dinner in the Rhyms residence, when Duke Edwin stared at me with killing intent.
This was a Domain.
The hallmark of a Tier 4 or Master Aura user. They not only strengthened the body, but their physical presence was so dense it distorted gravity and space around them.
Dense brown aura, like the color of earth and stone, began to envelop Brook's dwarven body. Yet in my eyes, his shadow grew, towering high as if he were a giant mountain ready to collapse on me.
"Ready, Kid?"
That was not a question, but an evacuation warning for my life.
Some Class C students at the edge of the arena fell sitting down because their knees went weak just feeling the residual aura from ten meters away. The excitement on their faces was replaced by threatening terror.
I could not retreat. If I retreated here, I had no right to enter Dungeon Sector 9.
"Ready!" I shouted loudly, more to encourage myself than to answer him.
I assumed a total defensive stance or Ox Guard. I raised the Adamantium sword crossed above my head as a final shield.
Piston Heart: Maximum Senior Aura.
I spurred my heart to its limit. Grizzly Serum fully active. My arm muscles enlarged, solidifying as hard as possible. I planted my feet into the ground, gripping the stone floor with my toes so as not to be thrown.
Hold... Hold... Do not shatter!
"Good. Be a strong nail," mumbled Brook.
He raised his big axe high. His movement was slow, not fast like an Assassin. But every inch of the axe's movement seemed to suck all the air in the arena, creating a terrifying vacuum around it.
The axe descended.
There was no sharp wind whistling sound. What existed was a low rumble like a mountain landslide. The gravitational pressure was so great that the air in the axe's trajectory path was pressed aside before the dull blade passed.
I saw death descending from the sky.
I channeled all the Senior Aura I had into the sword and arms. Forming the densest defensive layer I could make in a short time.
Black iron axe met Adamantium sword.
KABOOM!
The world exploded around me.
Not the sound of clashing metal was heard. It was the sound of thunder exploding right next to my ear.
When the impact occurred, I felt no pain in my arms. My nerves went numb instantly due to sensory overload.
What I felt was... my body became short.
The stone floor under my feet was not strong enough to withstand the load. The ground exploded and sank ten centimeters deep. My feet were forcibly planted into the shattered stone.
The impact vibration did not stop at the sword. It traveled wildly throughout the body. Penetrating Adamantium, hitting wrists, traveling to elbows, crushing shoulders, down to the spine, and finally...
THUD.
My brain shook violently inside the skull.
It felt like a multi-story building was dropped on me. My vision turned totally white. Brook's gravity not only pressed my body, but flattened my consciousness.
I saw my sword bend. The hardest object in the world bent under the load before finally thick and comfortable darkness swallowed my entire vision.
(Several hours later)
The sharp smell of alcohol. White light blinding the eyes. The monotonous hum of a medical magic machine.
Beep... beep... beep...
I opened my eyes slowly. My eyelids felt heavy, as if copper coins were placed on them.
A white ceiling I knew very, very well greeted my vision. There was a small rabbit-shaped water stain in the corner of the ceiling. I knew that shape because I had stared at it dozens of times over these two semesters.
Academy Infirmary. My regular VIP room.
Damn it...