I walked through the wide corridor toward the combat hall, my steps steady while my thoughts moved far faster than my feet.
Today would be the first combat class—the part almost everyone was waiting for.
I closed my eyes for a brief moment, reviewing the plans I had laid out in my mind: training, increasing strength… everything that would bring me one step closer to my goal.
"Wait!"
I stopped immediately.
Turning around, I saw a young man with sunset-orange hair and eyes of the same color. He waved at me with enthusiasm that felt oddly out of place in the calm morning atmosphere.
He smiled brightly.
"Hey!"
I returned the greeting before he continued,
"You're Nyx, right?"
I nodded.
"And you are?"
Despite knowing exactly who he was from the original story, I pretended otherwise.
He crossed his arms, looking mildly surprised.
"…You don't remember me? We were in the same class—just a while ago."
I shook my head.
"I'm terrible with names."
He extended his hand with a wide grin.
"Ethan. Ethan Green. Orange hair, orange eyes."
I shook his hand.
"Nyx Firen."
"Want to walk together?"
"No problem."
We headed toward the hall together. I couldn't help but think that having someone this talkative and energetic on what was bound to be a long day… might not be the best idea.
After a brief silence, he asked bluntly, without any restraint:
"So, Nyx… how did you get strong enough to take first rank?"
I kept my calm tone.
"Training… and a bit of luck."
He laughed lightly and shook his head.
"Bullshit. No one beats a C-rank monster with luck."
I raised my hands in surrender.
"Alright, believe what you want."
He opened his mouth to continue, but I cut him off as we reached the door.
"Here we are."
---
We entered together.
The hall was larger than I had imagined.
The high ceiling, wide windows letting sunlight pour in, the polished wooden floor bearing the marks of countless training sessions—it all gave the place an overwhelming sense of gravity.
On the right side were long racks of training weapons:
swords, spears, staffs, daggers, even small wooden shields.
Each weapon was neatly arranged, as if waiting for its rightful owner.
On the left were training platforms, wooden dummies, weight crates, and a space designated for short sprints.
And in the center… a circular arena.
The students scattered around the hall were chatting quietly or inspecting weapons, but the entire space fell silent the moment a man appeared in the center—as if he had formed from the air itself.
He stood perfectly still. Broad shoulders shaped by years of battle, sharp features devoid of any smile.
His gray eyes looked like those of someone who had seen far too much… more than words could ever describe.
He spoke in a clear, cold voice:
"I am Darius Blackfang. I will be your instructor for the combat specialization."
The authority in his tone alone was enough to make people behind me straighten unconsciously.
As for me…
Of course I knew him. He had been one of my favorite characters in the novel.
An S-rank Awakened.
---
Once all students had arrived, he clapped his hands once.
"Warm up."
Warm-up.
We ran laps around the hall.
Then quick jumps.
Push-ups.
Stretching arms and legs.
Basic movements every real fighter drilled before a true battle.
I observed the students as we trained. Some had clear form and control, others barely maintained their balance.
Ethan moved lightly, while Leander focused more on precision than speed.
After about fifteen minutes, Darius spoke again:
"Enough. Go choose your weapons."
I headed straight to the rack and picked up a simple wooden sword.
No need for anything more.
Leander chose a long-shafted spear.
Ethan picked two daggers, twirling them effortlessly as if they were extensions of his hands.
Darius stood at the center.
"You'll fight two versus two. No mana. I want to see your physical ability only. Choose your opponents."
I was deciding who to face when a cheerful voice approached:
"Want to fight?"
I turned.
Ethan was smiling with clear challenge.
"Of course," I replied.
---
The first rounds began.
Fast strikes—some clean, others chaotic.
One student fell after a poorly executed blow. Another lost balance due to excessive enthusiasm.
Darius watched in deadly silence, his eyes tracking every movement.
Nine matches passed.
The atmosphere grew increasingly tense.
Then Darius said:
"Next: Nyx Firen versus Ethan Green."
All eyes turned to me.
Some wanted to uncover the secret behind first rank.
Some were waiting for a spectacular fall.
Others… were more nervous than I was.
I stepped into the arena alongside Ethan.
Darius raised his hand.
"Begin."
---
Ethan didn't hesitate for even a second.
He charged at me like an orange streak, his movements fast and sharp.
"Come on!"
A frontal strike—dodged.
A leap forward—dodged.
A quick spin around me—step back.
A strike toward my shoulder—a slight bend.
He moved with genuine excitement, clearly enjoying every motion.
And me?
I observed.
Analyzed.
And only evaded.
Whispers began to spread:
"Is he just going to dodge?"
"He's not attacking… why?"
Ethan, though surprised, kept attacking, each strike carrying more determination.
A full minute passed…
And I finally smiled.
"Alright… my turn."
I planted my feet.
Gripped the wooden sword with one hand.
Watched his timing.
And when he lunged again—
The counterattack.
One precise step forward.
A light kick to his ankle to break his balance.
I caught his wrist before the dagger slipped free.
Then—
One strike.
Clean.
Direct to the chest.
"Gh—!"
Ethan was thrown back, landing outside the circle—but he was laughing even before he stood up.
That… was the end of the match.
---
Darius spoke calmly:
"Clean attack. Excellent timing."
Ethan approached me, brushing dust off his clothes, then grinned.
"Now I get how you beat a C-rank monster. You're… not normal."
I extended my hand.
He shook it firmly.
"I want a rematch someday," he said.
"Anytime."
The students dispersed—some looking at me with renewed curiosity… others with envy… and some with quiet admiration.
I remained standing for a moment, gazing at the arena.
This was only… the beginning of the path.
______
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