The academy grounds had returned to their usual rhythm after the lecture ended.
Students walked along the wide white pathways between the towering glass buildings of Crownspire, their conversations blending into a low murmur of voices carried by the afternoon breeze. The golden sunlight reflected off the polished stone walkways and the crystalline surfaces of the academy structures, giving the entire campus a calm, almost serene atmosphere.
Damon walked alone through the crowd.
His expression was completely blank.
In front of him, the Manacron on his wrist glowed faintly as he tapped across its floating interface with quiet irritation.
"Is there anything like an internet or sothing in this world...?" he muttered under his breath.
Students passed by him in small groups, talking about the upcoming placent exams, the lecture they had just witnessed, and the spectacle of Eric nearly being roasted alive in Lunaria’s demonstration.
Damon barely noticed them.
He tapped another icon.
Nothing useful appeared.
He frowned slightly.
"...Looks like I expected too much."
The words ca out in a quiet grumble as he continued walking.
His thoughts drifted back to the conversation he had just had with Khaira after the lecture ended.
The question had been simple.
"How can soone know what their resonance is?"
Khaira had tilted her head at him in confusion.
"Hm?" she had said. "Ya just know it when ya use it."
Damon had frowned at that answer.
"What does that an?"
Khaira had shrugged casually.
"Ya just know it when ya fight. Everyone figures out their resonance when they awaken it."
Damon had stared at her for a mont before asking another question.
"And if soone doesn’t know what their resonance is, but wants to find out?"
For the first ti since their conversation began, Khaira’s expression had faltered.
She had narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
"...Are ya ssin’ with right now?"
Damon had said nothing.
Khaira’s frustration had grown instantly.
"Are ya just sayin’ nonsense so ya don’t hafta fight ?"
Damon had simply returned to his usual cold expression.
"That’s right."
Then he had walked away.
Back in the present, Damon sighed quietly as he continued walking through the academy pathways.
If I ask anyone else that question, they’ll definitely think I’ve lost my mind.
He continued walking as he muttered, "Am I forgetting sothing?"
If I forget it, it must not be sothing important...anyway...
His fingers moved across the Manacron interface again.
"What a headache..."
After a mont, the device finally responded.
A small holographic map expanded into the air in front of him, projecting a detailed layout of the academy grounds.
Buildings, training areas, lecture halls, and dormitories appeared in glowing lines across the map.
Damon studied it carefully.
Then his eyes narrowed slightly.
"...Now where are the private training chambers?"
***
The private training complex stood slightly apart from the main academic halls, its architecture even more refined than the rest of the academy. The entire structure was built from smooth white stone reinforced with thick panels of crystalline glass, the surfaces faintly glowing with embedded mana circuits that pulsed quietly beneath the material. Tall archways led into rows of individual training chambers, each sealed by heavy sliding doors and marked with glowing identification panels.
The place looked less like a gym and more like a high-end research facility designed for combat.
Damon arrived at the entrance corridor and imdiately noticed the crowd.
Several students were already gathered outside the various training chambers, standing in small groups while waiting for their turn. So leaned against the walls while others scrolled through their Manacrons, occasionally glancing toward the chamber doors as they waited for the current occupants to finish.
Damon stopped for a mont and looked at the line of occupied rooms.
Then he pressed his fingers against his forehead.
...Damon mode on.
His expression flattened instantly.
He walked forward.
The mont he reached the nearest chamber door, he looked at the group of students waiting there and spoke in a completely flat voice.
"Fuck off."
Several of them blinked.
"I need to use it."
One of the students frowned and crossed his arms.
"We haven’t been allotted any credits for it yet," he said irritably. "Anyone can use it right now."
Damon slowly turned his head toward him.
His golden eyes were cold.
Then he tilted his head slightly and cracked his knuckles one by one.
"You want to say it again?"
The quiet sound of his knuckles popping echoed in the hallway.
That was enough.
The group exchanged nervous glances before quickly stepping aside, so of them muttering under their breath as they moved away from the chamber entrance.
Damon watched them leave with mild indifference.
As long as I don’t get physical...
That should be fine, right?
Without another word, he stepped inside the training chamber.
The mont he entered, the door slid shut behind him with a smooth chanical sound.
Damon raised his wrist and inserted his Manacron into a glowing slot beside the entrance panel.
The chamber activated imdiately.
A faint hum spread through the room as a holographic interface appeared in front of him.
Damon Valecrest — Training Mode Initiated
The interface shifted.
What kind of training would you like to perform?
Multiple options appeared across the display.
Physical Combat
Resonance Training
Weapon Training
Simulation Combat
Endurance Conditioning
Damon tapped the first option.
Physical Combat
The interface dissolved instantly.
Damon looked around the chamber.
The entire room was constructed from seamless white crystalline glass, forming a large open space that seed both endless and completely enclosed at the sa ti. Nothing from the outside could be seen through the walls, and no sound escaped the chamber.
Then—
The air shimred.
Just like the virtual environnt Eric had experienced earlier, a humanoid robotic figure slowly materialized several ters away from Damon. It had no facial features, no clothing, and no visible weapons—just a smooth tallic silhouette designed purely for combat training.
Damon rolled his shoulders once before cracking his knuckles again.
"Without resonance," he muttered quietly, "I can only rely on my physical capabilities."
His golden eyes narrowed as he studied the figure in front of him.
Let’s see what this body’s limits really are.
He turned his head slightly, cracking his neck.
Then his back.
The tension ran down his spine like a coiled spring being released.
The next mont—
Damon exploded forward.
He dashed straight toward the robotic figure.
The mont Damon closed the distance, the robotic figure moved to et him.
Its motion was precise, chanical, and completely without hesitation.
Damon’s first strike ca like a test.
A sharp jab, clean and controlled, snapping forward toward the figure’s upper fra. The robotic opponent reacted instantly, raising its arm to block, but Damon had already shifted his weight. His body pivoted smoothly as the jab transitioned into a cross, the punch carrying far more power behind it.
tal rang sharply.
Damon stepped back.
Reaction speed... acceptable.
The figure lunged forward.
Damon’s body responded before the thought even fully ford.
His torso leaned aside just enough for the incoming strike to pass harmlessly by his shoulder. His footwork shifted lightly across the smooth floor as he countered with a rapid combination—two quick boxing strikes followed imdiately by a low Muay Thai knee aid at the figure’s midsection.
The tallic fra staggered back slightly.
Damon’s eyes sharpened.
Balance is excellent.
The robot attempted another strike.
This ti Damon didn’t dodge.
He caught the arm, twisting his hips as he redirected the montum using a movent closer to judo, sending the figure off balance before driving his elbow downward into its shoulder joint.
The joint cracked loudly.
But the figure recovered almost instantly.
It retaliated with a sweeping kick.
Damon jumped back, landing lightly before pivoting forward again. His body flowed naturally between movents—boxing footwork transitioning into a kung fu side strike, then a sharp palm thrust aid directly at the robot’s center of mass.
Every movent felt... smooth.
Efficient.
Like the body already knew what it was supposed to do.
Flexibility... far above average.
The robot stepped in again.
Damon rotated his hips and launched a quick roundhouse kick, the strike snapping across the figure’s upper fra with enough force to rattle the chamber walls.
Sweat had begun forming along Damon’s neck and shoulders now, trailing slowly down his bare skin as his body ward into the rhythm of combat.
But his mind remained analytical.
Strength output... impressive.
The robotic opponent rushed him again.
Damon shifted his stance.
This ti his response ca faster.
A quick feint, followed by a sudden forward step that closed the gap instantly. His fist slamd into the figure’s chest plate, the impact echoing loudly through the chamber.
Then ca the final movent.
Damon pivoted.
His body lifted from the ground as he launched a flying kick, the strike landing squarely against the robot’s upper fra with explosive force.
The impact shattered the machine’s balance.
tal fragnts scattered across the floor as the robotic figure crashed backward and collapsed, its fra dismantling across the white glass surface.
Silence returned to the chamber.
Damon stood there for a mont, breathing heavily as sweat ran down his shoulders and chest. His lungs expanded slowly as he regained control of his breathing.
Then he muttered quietly to himself.
"...This body is definitely better than mine."
He rolled his shoulders once, testing the tension in his muscles.
"It’s like it was made for combat."
Before the thought could settle further—
The chamber shimred.
Two more robotic silhouettes materialized several ters away from him.
Damon looked up.
Then chuckled softly.
"It’s ti to get serious, huh?"
He reached up and pulled off his academy blazer, tossing it aside before removing the waistcoat beneath it. The fabric landed on the floor beside the shattered remains of the first robot.
Now bare from the waist up, his muscles tightened slightly as he rolled his neck once more.
Then Damon dashed forward again.
Straight toward the two figures waiting for him.
***
The next three days passed in much the sa way.
From morning until late evening, Damon could be found inside the private training chambers, repeating the sa relentless cycle of physical combat drills and endurance training. The white glass chambers that had initially seed pristine and untouched quickly beca familiar territory as he pushed his body through round after round of simulated fights.
The robotic training figures appeared.
They were dismantled.
Then more appeared.
The process repeated endlessly.
Punches, kicks, throws, counters—Damon cycled through every technique he knew and adapted them to this body’s capabilities. Between combat simulations he forced himself through endurance programs, sprint drills, weighted resistance exercises, and stamina tests until sweat soaked through his clothes and his muscles burned.
And yet—
Every day, this body endured more than he expected.
It recovered faster.
Moved faster.
Adapted faster.
It was as if the body itself had been designed with combat in mind.
Even when exhaustion crept in, Damon’s mind remained sharp, constantly analyzing the limits of his movents and adjusting his techniques accordingly.
The weekend had technically begun, but Dean Adirelle had already inford him that his volunteer duties would begin the following week, allowing him to focus fully on the upcoming class placent examinations.
For Damon, that worked perfectly.
It ant fewer distractions.
He deliberately avoided interacting with anyone during those three days.
Especially the maid.
Every ti the thought of her crossed his mind, a faint irritation crept into his thoughts.
There is definitely sothing strange about that woman.
The mory of that night lingered uncomfortably.
Until I figure out what it is...
It’s better to stay as far away as possible.
Damon kept his routine simple.
He ate his als in the student cafeteria like before, usually sitting alone in the corner where the afternoon sunlight filtered through the tall windows. After finishing, he would return to training or walk the academy grounds briefly before heading back to the dorm.
He also made sure to leave early in the mornings—before she woke up.
Or at least before he thought she would wake up.
But every night, when he returned late after training, he always found the lights in the dorm room still on.
And her awake.
Waiting.
Damon said nothing. He simply walked past her, took a shower, and then told her calmly to go to sleep.
There was no conversation.
No contact.
Nothing else happened.
The maid slept in the small kitchen area on an extra mattress she had arranged there for herself.
Damon slept in the bed.
On the third night, long after the dormitory had fallen silent, the pale moonlight filtered through the glass window beside Damon’s bed. The soft silver glow illuminated the quiet room, casting faint shadows across the floor while highlighting the pale strands of his white hair as they fell across the pillow.
Damon stared at the ceiling for a mont.
Then he spoke quietly.
"...Tomorrow is the class placent exam."
The words faded into the silent room.
His eyes slowly closed as the next thought passed through his mind.
I will make sure I end up in Class S.
No matter what.
User Comments
0 comments from readers