New Teacher

Denwen blinked, his mind still struggling to process Agrona's words.

C-grade.

He had spent his entire life shackled to a D-grade core, watching others soar ahead while he clawed desperately for even the smallest progress. And now, in a single night, everything had changed.

"What do you mean I'm now a C-grade?" Denwen asked, his voice laced with disbelief.

Agrona adjusted her glasses, her gaze sharp and thoughtful. "I mean exactly what I said. Your talent has advanced." She crossed her arms. "It's unheard of, of course. Talent is determined at awakening and is meant to be fixed. But for some reason, your core adapted. Perhaps due to the overwhelming strain, it evolved in the best way possible to ensure your survival."

Denwen stared at his hands, flexing his fingers. He felt… different. Stronger. The essence within him no longer sluggish, no longer resisting his control.

Agrona continued, her tone now laced with curiosity. "It's just a hypothesis, but I'd love to put it to the test." Her eyes gleamed in a way that made his skin crawl, like she had just discovered a fascinating new specimen.

Denwen immediately scooted back to the farthest edge of the bed, his instincts screaming danger. "Hell no."

Agrona smirked, adjusting her sleeves. "That's too bad." Then, her expression grew serious. "Listen. Although this is good news for you, I strongly advise that you keep this information to yourself. You never know what kind of intentions people have."

Denwen nodded, fully understanding her warning. If people learned he had somehow increased his talent rank, there would be questions—dangerous ones.

Agrona studied him for another moment, then smiled. "Hmmm, first you have an odd physiology, and now your core is unusual as well… I think I know just the right sort of lesson you need."

She turned and walked towards the door.

"Wait, I need to change."

"There's a compartment in the wall with your uniform. Put it on and catch up." She waved him off as she left.

Denwen exhaled, then sat up, taking a moment to scan himself internally. His essence pool had expanded significantly—a full 20% increase. Combined with his refined control, this meant he could finally meet the evaluation requirements.

He clenched his fist. Now we're getting somewhere.

—-

A Different Kind of Training

Agrona led him through the academy's corridors, past the regular training halls and into a different section—one he had never visited before. The atmosphere shifted as they entered, the usual chatter of students replaced by the rhythmic sounds of battle. The scent of sweat, polished wood, and sharpened steel filled the air.

They stopped before the entrance to a massive open dojo. Inside, students sparred on wooden platforms, their movements sharp and disciplined. Training dummies lined the far wall, some reinforced with enchanted metals, others wrapped in thick layers of leather.

At the center stood a towering figure with broad shoulders, his skin marred by old battle scars. His amber eyes flickered with authority, scanning the room like a predator observing his domain.

"Vorden," Agrona called out.

The man turned, his gaze landing on Denwen. He exuded strength—not just physical but a deep, disciplined kind honed over decades.

"Hm?" His voice was deep and rough, like stone grinding against steel. "Who's this?"

"A student eager to learn," Agrona replied.

Vorden studied Denwen, his sharp gaze scanning him from head to toe. His expression remained unreadable.

"Name?"

"Denwen."

Vorden grunted. "Hmph. You've got the build, but that doesn't mean anything." His eyes flickered toward Agrona. "You know I don't take just anyone."

Agrona smirked. "You'll find this one interesting soon enough." She tapped Denwen's shoulder confidently.

Vorden stared at her for a long moment before sighing. "Fine. I'll do this as a favor to you." He turned back to Denwen. "But if he's not worth my time, he's out."

Denwen swallowed, standing his ground.

"Good. Follow me."

Vorden stepped onto the combat mat in the center of the dojo, his voice booming.

"Class is over. Make sure you practice today's lesson, or you'll bleed for it tomorrow."

"YES, SIR!" the students responded in unison, bowing before quickly exiting.

Now alone with Denwen, Vorden studied him again. "Do you know why she brought you here?"

Denwen nodded. "To learn how to fight with my body."

Vorden chuckled. "Smart kid." He walked over to a weapons rack, picking up a longsword. "Many people rely on weapons for their strength. Swords, spears, bows, magic—you name it. They all have their uses."

He gripped the sword in one hand and swung it downward, burying the blade deep into the floor. The sheer force of the impact sent cracks spider webbing across the dojo's wooden panels.

"But let me ask you something," Vorden continued. "What happens when you lose your weapon? When it breaks? When the enemy disarms you?"

He released the hilt, stepping back. Then, in a single motion, he smashed his fist down on the embedded sword—shattering the steel into shards.

Denwen's eyes widened.

"Why would you put your life in something so fragile?" Vorden asked, his voice calm but firm. He stepped closer, his imposing frame looming over Denwen.

"The strongest body is sharper than the sharpest sword. It hits harder than the mightiest hammer. It strikes with more precision than the fastest arrows. And when trained properly, it cannot be taken from you."

Denwen clenched his fists. The words struck a chord deep within him. He thought back to the Ironhide Chief. If he had been strong enough, if his strikes had been absolute, would the monster have stood back up?

The answer was clear. No.

Vorden's gaze remained steady. "Can you channel essence through your body?"

Denwen hesitated before nodding. He had felt a change since the experiment. His circuits were clearer, his essence responding faster.

"Good," Vorden said. "Otherwise, I would've sent you straight back to Agrona."

He led Denwen toward a towering stone pillar at the edge of the room. A red mark was etched at its center.

"This is a testing apparatus," Vorden explained. "It measures the force of a strike. I use it to separate those worth training from those who are wasting my time."

He gestured to the pillar. "All you have to do is channel your essence and hit that red mark with everything you've got."

Vorden casually tapped the red mark with the back of his hand. The numbers on the pillar's display rapidly climbed to 250.

Denwen's jaw nearly dropped.

"That's the standard for a trained warrior," Vorden said, stepping aside. "Now, let's see what you've got."

Denwen took a deep breath, focusing on his core. He could feel the difference—the refined flow, the increased density of his essence. It moved through him smoothly, empowering his muscles.

He struck.

The impact sent a sharp shock up his arm. The pillar vibrated slightly. Denwen stepped back, eager to see the number.

35.

Silence.

His excitement shattered instantly. He had expected at least half of Vorden's score.

Vorden shook his head slightly, making Denwen look away in shame.

But then, the man clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Don't look so damn dejected. You pass."

Denwen blinked. "I… pass?"

Vorden smirked. "That was a hell of a punch for a rank one. Most can't even break 20."

Denwen exhaled in relief.

Meanwhile, Vorden kept his true thoughts hidden.

What the hell? Normal rank ones barely hit 20 on that meter. He glanced at the boy. Agrona, what kind of monster have you uncovered?