Combat practice

The whispers followed Victor like a shadow as the class headed out of the room and headed toward the combat training grounds. The academy's sprawling training area, an open-air arena filled by observation platforms, was buzzing with activity. Other common classes were already deep into their sessions, the sound of sparring weapons and shouts of exertion filling the air.

Victor's thoughts churned as he walked, trying to process his earlier stat check. His improvements were undeniable, but the attention they brought was unnerving. He had spent years blending into the background, and now he felt like a spotlight was on him.

"Crow."

Victor flinched as Adrian Darrow fell into step beside him, his voice as sharp as the edge of a blade. Adrian's polished uniform and effortless confidence made him seem untouchable, a constant reminder of his status as the academy's elite.

"Adrian," Victor said, keeping his tone neutral.

"Interesting numbers back there," Adrian said casually, though his eyes were anything but. "Jumping from mediocrity to above average overnight? Care to share your secret?"

Victor's jaw tightened. "Just trained harder, like I said."

Adrian's smirk widened, but he didn't press further. Instead, he picked up his pace, moving to join his usual crowd. Victor watched him go, uneasy.

His classmates were already on their way to the training floor, chatting among themselves. Most were eagerly grabbing the wooden swords and practicing their stances, excited for the opportunity to show off their skills. For them, it was just another training session, another day of proving who was stronger, faster, and more capable. But for Victor, this felt like a test he wasn't prepared for.

As he walked to the weapons rack, he hesitated. He picked up a wooden sword, its smooth surface worn from years of use. He wasn't used to swords—he preferred daggers, the close-range weapons that allowed him to fight more efficiently, using his agility rather than strength. But here, a sword was the expected tool of choice. The wooden blades were blunt, designed for training, but still heavy and unwieldy for someone who wasn't used to them.

Victor could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his palms sweating as he adjusted his grip on the hilt. His eyes scanned the room. In the far corner, Adrian Darrow, a member of the prestigious Darrow family, was already warming up. Adrian's presence seemed to demand attention—his every move radiated confidence, and his reputation as one of the elite students of the academy preceded him. As always, the murmurs of the other students buzzed with excitement about Adrian's performance.

Victor sighed. He wasn't going to be able to keep up with someone like Adrian. Not with his current stats, and certainly not without any actual combat experience.

The students gathered in a semi-circle around their combat instructor, Ms. Riven, a towering woman with a no-nonsense demeanor. Her presence alone was enough to command respect, and her piercing gaze swept over the group, silencing any chatter.

"Today's focus," she began, her voice cutting through the air, "is sparring. Controlled combat. Each of you will face a partner, and I expect discipline and strategy—not mindless brawling."

Victor shifted nervously as Ms. Riven began pairing students. His heart sank when her gaze landed on him.

"Victor Crow."

"Yes, ma'am."

"You'll be sparring with Adrian Darrow."

A ripple of excitement ran through the group. Adrian's reputation was well-known—he was the strongest student in the elite class, his stats and combat skills unmatched.

Victor's stomach churned. Of course, she paired me with him.

Adrian stepped forward, his smirk firmly in place. "Looks like I'll get to see those stats of yours in action, Crow."

"Take your positions," Ms. Riven ordered.

The sparring ring was a circular area marked by faint lines in the dirt. Victor stepped inside, his heart pounding in his chest. Adrian stood across from him, his stance relaxed, but his eyes sharp and focused.

"Fight"

The whistle blew, signaling the start of the match. Adrian Darrow moved immediately, closing the distance between them with fluid ease. Victor had no time to react before Adrian's wooden sword struck with controlled precision, the force of the blow reverberating through Victor's arms.

The hit wasn't enough to send him stumbling, but it was enough to make his grip falter. He raised his sword to block another strike, but Adrian was already a step ahead. Adrian's follow-up blow came at a near-perfect angle, and Victor barely managed to sidestep it, his heart pounding in his chest.

Adrian wasn't putting in full effort. His strikes were calculated, controlled, almost lazy in their execution. Yet, even holding back, he was clearly the superior fighter, every move demonstrating his years of experience.

Victor swung his sword awkwardly in an attempt to strike back. His improved reflexes from the Titan Steps made his movements faster, but his coordination was still lacking. He was out of rhythm with the sword, and his strikes came too late or veered too wide.

Adrian barely had to move to evade them. He was moving just fast enough to make it look effortless, stepping aside or parrying with ease. He wasn't even breaking a sweat.

"Come on, Crow," Adrian's voice rang out, taunting but not cruel. "Is that really all you've got after all that training?"

Victor's chest tightened. He could feel his heart racing, his breath shallow. He wasn't holding back. It wasn't that he was being timid or cautious—it was simply the overwhelming truth that he was just far weaker than Adrian.

Adrian feinted to the left, drawing Victor's attention in that direction, and then struck with his right. The force of the blow landed hard against Victor's side, a punch rather than a swing, and it took the wind right out of him. The sharp pain caused him to stagger, barely managing to stay on his feet. He bit back a groan as the muscles in his side burned from the impact.

"Focus!" Ms. Riven barked from the sidelines, her voice cutting through the haze of Victor's thoughts.

Victor didn't have time to think. His body moved instinctively, his sword coming up to block a follow-up strike from Adrian. But the next blow came with such force that it sent his sword flying from his hand. Adrian stepped back as the weapon landed several feet away, leaving Victor exposed and disarmed.

"Not bad, Crow," Adrian said casually, his voice still smooth. "But you're just not on my level. I'll give you one more chance next time."

Victor stood there, breathing heavily, his mind still reeling from the match. The match had been brief—too brief—and despite his improvements, he couldn't deny the harsh truth: he was simply too weak to compete with someone like Adrian. Adrian had barely exerted himself, barely used even half his strength, and yet he made short work of Victor.

The rest of the class murmured, some of the students looking sympathetic, others judging with cold eyes. Victor could feel the stares—some out of concern, but most out of curiosity. Adrian was the best in their class, and Victor had just been made to look like a complete amateur.

Ms. Riven walked over, her gaze shifting between Adrian and Victor. She didn't seem disappointed, but there was a stern edge to her expression. "Adrian, that was enough," she said firmly. "I told you to hold back, not to make him look completely helpless. And Victor, you need to focus on your technique, not just your stats. You've got speed, but no control."

Victor nodded, his body aching from the match, but he didn't make any excuses. He had to admit, it was hard to accept his limitations. The Titan Steps had made his body stronger and faster, but none of it was enough to match Adrian's years of training and skill.

Adrian shrugged and turned to walk off, tossing a casual glance at Victor over his shoulder. "Better luck next time, Crow."

Victor stood there, trying to steady his breathing. The sting of defeat still lingered, but he wasn't broken. He had felt the difference in their strength, and it only fueled his resolve. He wasn't going to let this be the end. Not when he had so much more to prove.

Ms. Riven watched the scene unfold quietly. When the class dispersed, she approached Victor. "You're too focused on the numbers, Victor," she said, her tone steady. "Stats are important, yes, but they're only one part of the picture. Right now, you're using maybe 70% of your potential. If you want to compete at this level, you need to learn how to harness all that power you have, not just rely on raw numbers."

Victor nodded, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I know. It's just... hard to keep up. I've never had any combat experience."

Ms. Riven raised an eyebrow. "That's part of the problem, Victor. You're fast, your stats have improved dramatically, but you haven't trained your mind for battle. You're still thinking in terms of what you can do instead of what you should do. You're not using your instincts yet. You need to learn to trust them."

Victor clenched his fists, determination rising within him. "I'll learn. I have to. I've got two weeks before the elite class goes through the portal. I can't afford to fall behind."

Ms. Riven studied him for a long moment. "You're right. You don't have time to waste. But listen closely—becoming an Evolver isn't just about being strong. You'll face danger, real danger, in the Forsaken World. You're not just fighting other people there. It's a survival game. And you'll need to be ready for anything."

Victor's mind raced. He had heard the rumors, the stories of the Forsaken World—where monsters roamed and only the strongest survived. And now, he had two weeks before he had to step into that world.

"I'll be ready," Victor said, though there was a part of him that couldn't help but wonder just how ready he truly was.

Ms. Riven seemed to read his mind. "It's not about whether or not you'll survive, Victor. It's about how you survive. If you make it through those first few months, that's when you start to become an Evolver. That's when you truly get to choose what kind of life you want. But right now, you have two weeks. You need to improve, and you need to do it fast."

Victor swallowed hard, the weight of her words sinking in. The life of an Evolver wasn't an easy one. There were no guarantees. But he didn't have any other options.

"I want to do it," Victor said, more to himself than anyone else. "I want to become an Evolver, to hunt monsters, to survive."

Ms. Riven gave him a small nod. "Then come to me after class tomorrow. I'll help you. You have potential, Victor. Don't waste it."

Victor stood tall, feeling the fire of determination reignite within him. He had a chance to change his life, to forge a future for himself in a world where only the strong survived. Two weeks. That's all the time he had to prepare.

And he wasn't going to let it slip away.

Mr. Calden watched the exchange carefully, his eyes narrowing as he observed Victor's movements. The class was silent, waiting for the inevitable.

"Victor Crow loses," Mr. Calden announced, his voice calm but firm. The class's collective sigh filled the room, and the chatter began almost immediately

"You've got two weeks, Crow," he muttered to himself. "Two weeks to prove you're not weak."