Does Loya truly not understand Hansa's purpose?
No, of course he understands. Tony understands it too, though he doesn't know the full reasoning behind it. As for that reasoning, Loya is truly an outsider. What a pure swordsman thinks about, what drives them to pass on their blade to another before death, is a mystery to him. Why would Hansa take a special interest in Tony? Why go so far as to expose his own weaknesses to Loya just to demonstrate his sword style to the kid?
Does Hansa have... tastes for the unconventional? Did he fall for Tony? Loya couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for Tony, imagining a scenario of "The Sickly Master X The Hot-Blooded Student." Of course, these were just musings. Aside from Hansa himself, only Zephyr likely knew the truth.
"Forget it. I'll just focus on leveling up and figuring out how this system works."
Loya silently recited the command to open his status panel:
Na: Christopher Loya
Energy Stage: Tier 2, Level 8
Energy Value: 15/100
Mana Recovery Speed: 950/min
Dragon Power: 9%
Dragon Body: 9%
Today's battle with Hansa had netted him 0 points (it seems the system only awards points for significant breakthroughs or specific milestones, as his progress bar remained static). Still, he realized the system was far from a simple experience-point grind. In the past, defeating the entire Elite Camp had only yielded 50 points total. Interestingly, defeating Tony today gave him 5 points—significantly more than the single point he received a month ago. It seed the system rewarded growth; Tony had evolved from a one-trick pony into a formidable swordsman under Hansa's tutelage, and the system recognized that increased difficulty.
What bothered him, however, was his "Dragon Body." He had spent the last month exclusively drilling the Six Styles—no Dragon Slayer magic, barely even using his Molding Magic. Yet, his Dragon Body stat had climbed from 6% to 9%.
He couldn't fathom it. The Six Styles were all about extre physical control. Every waking mont of the last month, he had been locked in the training hall, forcing his body to obey his commands. Perhaps the mastery of the body required for the Six Styles was synergizing with his heritage as a Dragon Slayer?
"It defies logic!" he muttered, reaching under his bed to pull out a bowl of turtle soup he'd swiped from the kitchen. "Well, the truth will co out eventually. For now, ti to eat."
Half a month later, the courtyard of the Elite Camp.
The usual training equipnt had been moved indoors, leaving the expansive garden bare. The afternoon sun was scorching, and beads of sweat crawled down the recruits' foreheads. None of them dared to move. Zephyr stood on the stairs of the pavilion, ready to announce the personnel for the upcoming field mission.
Elite Camp missions weren't "first co, first served." They were carefully curated by Zephyr and the resident Vice Admirals. Hansa, still in the infirmary, was exempt—Zephyr believed he needed to focus on ditation rather than physical strain. The rest, however, were considered "fledglings" who needed the tempering of the open sea.
"Listen up! The roster for this field mission is decided. First, Loya!"
"Here!"
"Step out!"
"Yes..."
Loya stepped forward with a face of tragic resignation, as if he were walking to the gallows. I really couldn't escape this fate! Three months of ship life... that's practically a death sentence for my social life!
Zephyr's mouth twitched, but he suppressed the urge to laugh and continued his booming announcent.
"Second, Aldo!"
"Third, Minde!"
"Fourth, Tony!"
Zephyr tucked the clipboard under his arm and surveyed the four motley disciples standing before him. Loya, now two ters tall and lean, looked the most "normal." Aldo, the giant, stood behind him like a massive sunshade. Minde, the delinquent-looking youth with a pompadour, stood next to Tony, who looked like a hardened gang leader with a massive scar running down his face.
A fine group of misfits, Zephyr thought.
"From today on, you will head out to sea for a three-month field mission! Loya will be your team leader. If anyone has objections, speak now!"
The three of them twitched simultaneously and shouted in perfect unison: "No objections!"
If we had objections, they thought, Loya's petty, narrow-minded personality would make our lives a living hell for the next three months. Zephyr-sensei, you are truly a wicked man!
User Comments
0 comments from readers