The training chamber echoed faintly with the sound of controlled impact as Damon moved across the polished floor, his bare upper body glistening with sweat under the soft artificial lighting while a humanoid chanical silhouette stood before him, its form shifting subtly as it adjusted to his movents.
Damon stepped in.
His fist shot forward in a straight, precise line, connecting with the construct’s guard before his body pivoted smoothly, his shoulder rolling into the motion as he followed up with a tight hook aid at its side, only to shift his weight again and drive a knee upward, the sequence flowing seamlessly from one motion to the next without pause or wasted energy.
The construct reacted and adapted.
Its arm moved to intercept, its body angling to counter—
But Damon was already ahead.
He slipped past the response, his foot planting firmly as he redirected his montum into a low kick that destabilized its stance, imdiately stepping in to close the distance again, his elbow snapping forward in a sharp arc.
Clean. Efficient. But predictable.
A voice echoed in his mind.
"You will need to find an anchor..."
His breathing remained steady as he continued, each movent precise, controlled, almost chanical in its execution.
"Sothing that grounds you when you lose control of your emotions..."
The construct retaliated, its arm swinging wide.
Damon ducked beneath it.
Stepped inside.
Struck again.
"A single point you can hold onto for clarity..."
His attacks flowed in a sequence he had repeated countless tis, refined to perfection, honed into sothing sharp enough to cut through most opponents without resistance.
"It can be anything... a person... a place... or even a mory..."
The construct adapted again.
Predicted. Its defense tightened.
Damon’s eyes narrowed.
"Sothing that reminds you who you are..."
He shifted his stance.
But the pattern remained.
The construct responded accordingly.
A brief opening.
Then—
Damon broke the rhythm.
His leg snapped out with force, a powerful kick that drove straight into the construct’s center, sending it skidding backward across the chamber before its fra destabilized completely and shattered apart, fragnts scattering across the floor as the system registered its destruction.
"Find it..."
The voice lingered.
"And we are halfway there."
Damon exhaled heavily, his chest rising and falling as he stood there for a mont, the tension in his muscles slowly releasing as sweat traced down his back.
"Tch..."
He ran a hand through his hair, his expression tightening slightly.
"It’s hard to break my pattern of fighting..."
His gaze shifted to his Manacron as he checked the ti, then bent down to pick up his uniform, pulling it back on as he pressed a button near the exit.
The door slid open as he stepped out.
DING!
YOU HAVE USED 1 OUT OF 5 FREE TRAINING CHAMBER SESSIONS.
AFTER 5 SESSIONS, YOU WILL NEED TO EXCHANGE CREDITS TO CONTINUE USAGE.
Damon glanced at the notification briefly before dismissing it, his steps carrying him out of the training facility and into the academy grounds, where the late evening light cast long shadows across the pathways as students gradually dispersed, the atmosphere quieter than it had been earlier in the day.
His thoughts shifted again.
Credits... right.
For most academy facilities beyond the dorms and canteen, usage required credits—sothing students had to earn through various ans such as assisting professors, maintaining good academic performance, completing assigned tasks, or even taking up mundane duties like cleaning.
A system designed not just to train them—but to teach them.
***
Inside another commoner dorm room, where the lighting was dimr and the air carried a quieter stillness compared to the rest of the academy, a young man sat on the chair by his desk, his posture relaxed yet deliberate as his gaze remained fixed ahead, his voice breaking the silence without any preamble.
"Why did you do it?"
Standing in front of him was a young woman with a slender fra, her dark hair carrying a faint red tint that caught the low light, her head slightly lowered as she answered without hesitation.
"I heard he bullied master..."
The young man’s expression did not change, but there was a subtle pause before he spoke again, his tone carrying a quiet weight.
"How did you even get in here... inside the academy?"
The woman did not respond this ti, her silence stretching just enough to serve as an answer of its own, her gaze remaining lowered as if unwilling—or perhaps unnecessary—to explain.
The young man exhaled faintly, then continued, his voice calm but firm.
"Don’t do anything like this again... he is not soone you can deal with."
His attention shifted toward the window, his eyes settling on the faint glow of the academy grounds outside as his thoughts moved ahead of his words.
"I thought he was just an arrogant noble before..."
A brief pause followed.
"...but..."
He didn’t finish the sentence.
Instead, his tone settled into sothing more decisive.
"Anyway, as long as he doesn’t get in our way... leave him alone."
The woman remained silent.
Unmoving.
Then the young man spoke once more, his voice carrying quiet authority.
"Now go. Don’t stay in the academy for now... and keep an eye on the people I told you about."
This ti, she responded imdiately.
"Yes, master."
Without another word, she turned, moved to the window, and in one fluid motion leapt out into the night, her figure disappearing into the darkness beyond.
***
By the ti Damon returned to his dorm building, the night had settled fully over the academy, the earlier activity fading into a quieter rhythm as he walked in after having a light al at the canteen, his mind still half-occupied with the events of the day.
Just as he stepped inside, the receptionist’s voice stopped him.
"You will be punished for breaking the dormitory rules last night."
The man didn’t turn, his back still facing Damon as always, his tone carrying that sa neutral firmness.
Damon looked at him for a brief mont before replying.
"It was an ergency."
"What ergency?"
The question ca imdiately.
Damon exhaled softly, already knowing this wasn’t a conversation worth continuing.
"What’s the punishnt?"
"Two weekends of voluntary work."
Damon paused for a fraction of a second as the number registered in his mind, his thoughts shifting briefly.
Hmm... I already have the sa punishnt for this month anyway...
"Fine," he said without argunt, already turning away as he began walking toward the stairs.
He didn’t make it far before the receptionist’s voice ca again, just as indifferent as before.
"With your already assigned four weekends... that makes a total of six."
Damon didn’t stop nor did he turn.
He simply continued walking up the stairs, his expression flattening slightly as a quiet mutter slipped out under his breath.
"That old hag..."
Step by step, he climbed until he reached the third floor, then walked down the corridor and stopped in front of his door, his hand resting briefly on the handle before he pushed it open and stepped inside.
As Damon stepped inside the room, his gaze imdiately fell upon the maid standing near the entrance as if she had been waiting for him, her posture straight yet slightly tense, and the mont she noticed him, she spoke softly.
"You are early today, young master..."
Damon gave a small nod in response without saying much, already moving past her as he removed his academy uniform and changed into casual clothes, his movents unbothered by her presence as he walked toward his desk, took his seat, and put on his study glasses before picking up a book, settling into a posture that suggested he had already shifted his attention elsewhere.
A mont of silence passed.
Then—
"Y-young master..."
Her voice ca again, hesitant.
Damon turned his head slightly to look at her.
"W-would you like to have sothing to eat?"
He shook his head faintly.
"You can eat... I already had sothing in the canteen."
With that, he turned back to his book, his gaze dropping to the pages as if the matter was already concluded, but behind him, the maid bit her lips, her fingers tightening slightly against the fabric of her dress as she hesitated, clearly wanting to say more yet holding herself back.
She stood there for a mont.
Then gathered the courage.
"Y-young master... p-please don’t get angry... b-but the food in the canteen must not be good..."
Damon paused.
Then turned back again, his eyes settling on her as a faint thought crossed his mind.
Now what does this woman want...
She flinched slightly under his gaze but continued anyway, her voice still uncertain yet more insistent than before.
"It’s what everyone eats... b-but for y-you, there is already a al plan prepared specifically for you... w-which is designed for your body... Master pays a lot for high-quality ingredients for your diet..."
Her eyes lifted to et his briefly before lowering again, and before Damon could respond, she added quickly, almost as if afraid he would refuse imdiately.
"Y-you can examine the ingredients yourself... and the entire process while I cook... I-I will even taste everything in front of you before you do..."
Damon remained silent for a mont, his gaze lingering on her as his thoughts moved inward.
Hmm... this body’s father actually invests in specific ingredients... tailored for him?
The idea settled with a faint curiosity.
Is there sothing more to it...?
His eyes narrowed slightly.
This body is clearly superior physically... but this woman...
He observed her more carefully now, not just her words, but her behavior, her tone, her insistence.
Then her voice ca again, softer this ti.
"S-so... would you like to try it, young master?"
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