Chapter 20: Combat Evaluation (5)

What are traits?

Traits are the first mark an Awakened receives—the fundamental truth that defines them.

They arrive before the first spell is whispered,

before mana ever courses through the veins,

before you even begin to comprehend the extraordinary world you've stepped into.

Your trait sets your path.

Not your class. Not your rank.

Your trait.

It's deeply personal. Primal.

It doesn't require explanation or understanding.

The moment it awakens —

you know. You feel it. Undeniably.

There are two kinds, distinct as night and day:

Outlet Traits: The Earned Edge

These are acquired over time, honed through effort and experience. Think Poison Resistance, Night Vision, Enhanced Reflexes. Useful, yes, providing a tangible edge in the world. But they are common. Earned.

Innate Traits: The Unchosen Gift

And then, there are the others—the ones no training can ever forge, no dedication can ever reach. These are the Innate Traits. You don't work for them. You don't choose them. They choose you.

Not everyone is chosen. Many live their Awakened lives without ever feeling that deeper resonance.

But Edward was.

At fourteen—the universal age of Awakening—Edward's trait stirred.

No divine flare ignited the sky. No heavenly choir sang. Just a quiet hum beneath the skin.

Subtle. Steady. Inevitable.

Adaption.

That was its name.

And just as it sounded, it was profound. He learned. He adjusted. He evolved.

The longer a battle stretched, the deeper his understanding grew. His opponent's stance. Their hidden rhythm. Their ingrained habits. Their fatal flaws.

Sword. Spear. Knife. Fists. It didn't matter. If it was a fight, Edward would learn it. And once he learned it… he'd shatter it.

Back then, he didn't realize the sheer rarity of what he possessed. All he knew was this truth: with every match, every clash, every labored breath—his blade grew sharper. His movements became cleaner. The chasm between him and every other Awakened fighter widened with each passing moment.

While others stumbled through their first steps,

he walked a path into a realm untouched — one no one his age had even glimpsed.

They called him a genius. A prodigy with a sword. The boy no one could touch.

But Edward knew the truth, a truth that burned quiet and fierce beneath his skin.

He wasn't a genius. Just someone with an impossible head start… and a trait that absolutely refused to let him stay the same.

----

The wind brushed past, tousling my hair as I sat, quietly observing.

Metal clashed in the arena — sharp, rhythmic, relentless.

Another duel. Another pair desperate to prove themselves.

It never stopped.

I sipped from the energy drink I'd picked up in the rest area — a small perk for anyone who survived their second match.

Yeah, I was injured. Nothing worth making a scene over. A bit of treatment, some tight bandages, and I was back on my feet. Mostly.

Then came the announcement for the third set. My gaze drifted to the holographic display, watching names flicker past, a vague anticipation settling in.

And with it… the match everyone had apparently been waiting for. The arena hushed, a collective intake of breath.

"Leon Ashborn vs Edward Brightwill."

My name.

Yep. That's me.

And no, it wasn't a mistake.

Honestly? I thought they'd save our match for the fourth set — the climax, the final showdown right before everyone goes home buzzing. It was the sensible play. The dramatic play.

But no.

Because when you're not the one holding the script, the story never plays out how you expect.

Still... it's the third round. I've got a bit of time before they call me in. Enough to breathe.Maybe even get my head straight. After all, what's coming next isn't just another duel. That's the main show. (At least, for me.) And I'd better be ready when the lights hit.

---

I sat there for a moment, letting the crowd's distant hum wash over me. Then, a decision formed. Guess I wasn't in the mood to just sit around and wait for the curtain to rise. So I stood, brushing the creases from my uniform, and started moving—slipping through the shifting crowd in the gallery, my quiet steps swallowed by louder footsteps and a cacophony of voices.

I had someone to meet. And just enough time to do it.

As I navigated the bustling gallery, something stopped me cold. Not a commotion, but a magnetizing pull. A small crowd had congealed, drawn to pure spectacle. Two figures stood at its center, effortlessly commanding every eye.

One possessed silver hair that shimmered like moonlight, each strand reflecting the arena's glow with a quiet, almost ethereal elegance. Her violet eyes held a brilliance that seemed to capture the very light, emphasizing their own ancient mystique.

The other was her stark contrast—nightfall hair that seemed to swallow the surrounding light, and crimson eyes that gleamed like twin rubies, sharp and mesmerizing.

Two kinds of beauty. One that dazzled like dawn. The other that devoured the night. Each powerful in their own right, neither needing to utter a single word to make their presence known.

Selene Mooncrest and Yelena Valeblanc.

The two most captivating students in our entire first year—and currently, the undisputed center of attention.

The reason? Their duel. Scheduled for the third set, fourth round. Rank 2 versus Rank 1. Now that's what people called a main event. Compared to mine? Their fight was infinitely more anticipated.

And right now? They were performing the classic pre-fight routine—the kind you usually saw in MMA or boxing weigh-ins. Two gorgeous girls, standing face to face, trading barbed words before they ever drew a weapon. Verbal jabs before steel. The crowd was absolutely devouring it, obviously.

Honestly, I'd have loved to stay and watch the show. Really, I would.

But I had somewhere else to be.

I started weaving through the crowd, careful to give the two ladies a wide berth. But, of course—nothing ever goes as simple as you want it to. They were right in the middle of the walkway, creating a human bottleneck. No real choice but to pass by, whether you wanted to or not.

So I did what any smart bystander would do: kept my head low, walked slow, and tried to blend in like a background extra. Just another passerby. No eye contact. No distractions.

And just when I thought I'd successfully navigated the gauntlet—

A delicate hand shot out, grabbing the collar of my uniform with surprising strength, and yanked me back. The sudden halt nearly sent a passerby stumbling into me.

Tch.

Why the hell can't I ever just be left alone?

"Ooo, Edward~ I didn't even notice you were here!" Yelena's voice cut through the murmur, accompanied by that ever-mischievous smile. "I've been looking for you for quite a while, you know."

She was lying. Obviously. She hadn't been looking for me. Not even a little. She'd simply spotted me in the crowd and decided I was her most convenient escape route.

Unfortunate timing, or perhaps just my perpetually bad luck. And yes—I could tell. One glance was enough.

"So, since you're already here," Yelena said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness, "can you do me a favor and tell the ever-bothering Selene that we have some important planning to discuss? Maybe then she'll go play nice with her classmates and stop dragging me into illogical conversations."

"I actually have somewhere else—"

Her grip on my collar tightened, effectively choking off my protest.

...Right. Message received.

A sigh escaped me. What a drag.

I turned toward Selene, adopting my most neutral expression. "Apologies for the interruption, Miss Mooncrest, but I have something urgent to discuss with Yelena."

"What? Ridiculous," Selene snapped, her voice rising. "Yelena, I know you're just avoiding the conversation. You just yanked him from the crowd—Hey! I'm not finished! Where are you two going?!"

We didn't exactly stop to hear the rest. Yelena kept pulling me away through the crowd like she owned the place, a triumphant grin on her face. Only once we were well out of earshot did I speak up.

"Hey. Can you let go of my collar now? It's getting uncomfortable."

"Haha~ Sorry," she laughed, casually letting go. "I kinda forgot. I was just so happy to see you."

She flashed me a grin like none of this was even slightly her fault.

----

Author Fun Fact!

Did you notice something quirky about Edward?

He only seems to info-dump while walking — whether it's from the training grounds to his room, or while heading to the nurse's office after a fight.

For example, remember when he casually explained the perks of being in the Top 10 or gave insight into the academy's class system?

Yeah — that was while limping toward the nurse's office.

Apparently, his legs move and so does the plot.

Standing still? Dead silence. Walking? Full-on narrator mode.

So next time Edward starts monologuing about the world, keep an eye on his feet. He's probably on the move.

Want more little storytelling quirks like this? Just ask.