The morning sun spilled over the training grounds, gilding the dew-damp grass in shades of gold. Luca’s sabers cut through the air in a steady rhythm, each swing smooth, precise, and deliberate. His breath moved in tandem with his strikes—inhale, exhale, step, slash—like the beat of a practiced song. Sweat rolled down his temple, glistening in the light, but his eyes held a calm focus.
I’ve improved a lot in the past month, he thought, his muscles burning but steady. Every day, nothing but training, pushing, refining. And the results are clear...
The final swing ca with a sharp whistle of steel, and Luca allowed the blades to lower. He walked over to the shade of a nearby oak and sat cross-legged, closing his eyes. The sabers rested at his side as he straightened his posture and drew in a long breath.
The world seed to still.
With practiced discipline, he began inhaling mana from the air, guiding it into his core. The energy spread into his ridians, flowing like streams of light beneath his skin. He cycled it carefully, slowly, condensing it into Aura with each breath. His chest rose and fell in steady rhythm, though his brows knit slightly as he felt the sluggish resistance in his channels.
But still... too far away from the second ridian cycle stage. His jaw tightened, frustration flickering across his face. At this pace, it’ll take months.
A familiar voice broke the silence.
"Hey, done with your hellish training?"
Luca opened one eye, the corner of his mouth lifting in a knowing smirk. Eric was standing a few steps away, arms folded, his posture relaxed yet watchful—like a man who’d been waiting just out of sight.
"Don’t you know?" Luca said as he pushed himself to his feet, brushing grass from his trousers. He gave his shoulders a stretch, joints popping. "You wouldn’t have co out if you weren’t sure I’d finished."
Eric chuckled, raising both hands in mock surrender. "You know well." His grin widened, boyish and easy.
Luca chuckled back, reaching for his sabers and sliding them into their sheathes with a clean click. "So," he asked, tilting his head slightly, "who’s the new mber?"
Eric’s grin faltered. He let out a long sigh, scratching the back of his neck. "There were a few who agreed at first... but the mont they heard you and the Saintess were in the sa team, they vanished." He spread his hands, helpless. "Like birds taking flight."
Luca’s smile faded into a thin line as he exhaled slowly, running a hand through his damp hair. How did it co to this? His eyes narrowed briefly in thought. Just my presence is enough to drive people away?
"Can’t we look in the lower classes?" he asked, tone casual but edged with a tinge of resignation.
Eric arched a brow, lips twitching into a half-smile. "Do you really think soone from Class C or D would be strong enough to handle hell mode?"
Luca t his gaze evenly, his own smirk tugging back into place despite the situation. "Well, we don’t exactly have another option, do we?"
Eric gave a short laugh, shaking his head. "Fine. Let’s go together then."
"Good." Luca rolled his shoulders again, feeling the stiffness from the morning’s training loosen. He gave Eric a small wave as he turned. "But first, I’m taking a shower. et in the canteen of class C and D."
"Got it," Eric said, flashing a quick salute before heading the other way.
Luca strode toward the dorms, the morning breeze cooling the sweat on his skin. His steps were lighter now, the prospect of the next task pulling him forward.
Luca hurried out of the shower, steam still clinging faintly to his skin as he buttoned up his clean shirt and strapped his sabers at his side. He tugged his sleeves once, ran his fingers through his damp hair, and set off at a brisk pace toward the canteen. The sooner this is done, the better.
His steps carried him down the less polished wing of Arcadia Academy. The stones here were duller, the banners not as bright. Well, what better place to scout lower-class students than their own canteen... Luca mused, slowing for a mont as he scanned the signs. Though, where even is it again?
Class C and D students had their own separate canteen. Segregated, of course. It sounds cruel, but that’s the Academy’s way. Incentives for C and D to claw their way upward, and motivation for A and B to not slack off. Comfort as both prize and leash.
Finally, a familiar mop of dark hair caught his eye. Eric leaned casually against the stone archway, arms crossed, a grin tugging at his lips as though he’d been expecting Luca to get lost.
"You’re late," Eric teased.
"I ca as fast as I could," Luca replied dryly, stepping up beside him. Together they pushed the heavy wooden door open.
The contrast was imdiate. Unlike the polished marble floors and orderly dining hall of Class A and B, this canteen was ssy, loud, and a little chaotic. Wooden tables bore scratches and carvings. Benches wobbled unevenly. Food scraps littered corners where no one had bothered to sweep. The air slled faintly of sour milk mixed with sweat.
Luca’s gaze swept the room—students were scattered across groups, loud and unruly. One boy with sleeves rolled up was arm-wrestling for coins on a table; a cluster of girls chatted animatedly in a corner while passing around a single shared dessert. Another group tossed dice on the floor, cheering and jeering at each roll.
Nobody even spared Luca or Eric a glance when they entered. Here, everyone was too wrapped up in their own survival and gas to care who walked in.
"See?" Eric said with a smirk as they slid into a table near the wall. "What can you find here?"
Luca sighed, scanning once more, his sharp eyes taking in every little quarrel and hustle. Not exactly promising candidates for Hell Mode runs...
Before he could say more, a plate was plunked down in front of them with little care. Bread, milk, and a pile of salad—plain, almost pitiful in its presentation. Luca raised a brow, picked up the bread, and took a bite. Imdiately, he coughed, nearly choking on the dry, crumbly texture.
Eric barked a laugh. "What, your taste buds can’t handle it anymore?"
Luca chewed with effort, swallowing the lump. So my taste really has been refined after eating good food for so long. His lips twitched upward in a faint grimace.
Eric stabbed at his own plate and shrugged. "Eat it. They don’t get nus like us. Just this—every day."
Luca poked at the salad and tasted it cautiously. Crunchy, plain, but at least tolerable. Well, at least nothing wrong with this...
Before either of them could continue, a sharp commotion split through the chatter. A tray clattered to the floor, tal striking stone with a piercing clang. Both Luca and Eric turned their heads just in ti to hear a jeering voice cut through the room.
"Heh—! You big bull, you want to eat more?"
The surrounding tables hushed for a heartbeat, all eyes drawn toward the source of the outburst.
The sharp, mocking voices cut through the air, pulling Luca and Eric’s attention toward the back of the canteen.
There, sprawled on the ground, was a massive figure—easily twice Luca’s height and width. The man looked more like a mountain forced into human shape. His broad shoulders and thick arms could have made anyone think twice about approaching him, yet now, he was lying silently on the floor, his gaze fixed stubbornly on a simple plate of food that had been tossed aside.
Surrounding him were several boys and girls, sneers painted across their faces.
"Oi, big bull," one of them jeered, jabbing a finger into the air. "That’s all you want? More slop? Didn’t you already eat enough to feed a family?"
Another, a sharp-faced girl with a cruel grin, leaned down and kicked his shin. "What’s wrong, huh? Cat got your tongue? Or maybe you’re too dumb to speak?"
Laughter erupted from the circle. So went further—one boy crouched low, slapping the giant’s cheek with mock gentleness. "Look at him, just staring at that plate like a starving dog. Pathetic."
A thud followed as a kick landed squarely in the man’s gut. His massive body flinched, but he made no sound. No anger, no protest. Just silence—his eyes fixed on the food that had been denied to him, as though nothing else in the world mattered.
The others cackled louder, emboldened. "Maybe if you bark for us, we’ll let you eat, hah!"
More laughter spread through the canteen. Students at nearby tables leaned back, watching with grins and snickers, but none bothered to interfere. To them, this was nothing but cheap entertainnt to pass a dull evening.
Luca and Eric exchanged glances.
Eric’s lips curled into a faint, knowing smirk. "Well, there are your candidates," he muttered dryly.
Luca let out a quiet sigh through his nose. His eyes narrowed as he rose slowly to his feet. Eric mirrored the motion, the scrape of their chairs against the floor cutting through the jeering chorus.
At that mont, one of the boys wound his leg back, ready to slam another cruel kick into the giant’s stomach.
Before it could land, another foot intercepted with sharp precision.
Thwack!
The sound echoed through the canteen, silencing the laughter in an instant. The boy stumbled back, eyes wide.
Standing firm, Luca lowered his leg, his posture steady, calm, but laced with quiet authority. His voice was even, almost casual, but it carried like steel through the suddenly hushed space.
"Hey," Luca said, his gaze sweeping over the mocking crowd. "That’s enough!."
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