I left the cafeteria with steady steps, but my mind was far more restless than it should have been.
My conversation with Oriana hadn't been bad—on the contrary… she was kind, curious, simply trying to get closer. I wasn't angry at her for asking; I understood her personality well enough to know she meant no harm.
But that question… that one specific thing… had opened a door I never liked to open.
Memories of my past life weren't just painful—they were a dark pit, always waiting for the moment my awareness slipped, even for a second.
So the best solution for me was escape… or rather, drowning myself in something else.
Something that could swallow all my thoughts.
Training.
I decided to head straight to the individual training hall.
That was the only place where I could silence the noise in my head.
After several minutes of walking through nearly empty corridors, I reached the heavy metallic door of the facility. The moment I stepped inside, the artificial intelligence's voice cut through the air:
"Student: Nyx Fearn… Entry registered."
I exhaled lightly.
It was still a little strange—this system knew almost everything.
I raised my eyes to examine the hall.
It wasn't excessively large, but it was built with precision. The walls were made of gray alloys designed to absorb impact, occasionally transforming into simulation panels when certain systems were activated. At the center lay a wide open space, similar to an arena. Along the sides stood various equipment: combat dummies, speed simulators, attack power measurement devices, and even sub-rooms designed to challenge virtual combatants.
This place was perfect for sharpening skill…
and perfect for escaping thought.
I headed straight for the room I was looking for—the Advanced Two-Dimensional Combat Simulation Room.
Despite its name, what appeared inside wasn't just an image, but a combat model that felt nearly real.
"Opponent selection."
A luminous panel appeared before me.
I entered the parameters:
– Rank C
– Weapon: Sword
– Mana: Disabled
– Training Type: Physical Duel
I needed to know my true level—how my body alone compared to a standard Rank C combatant without using mana. I wanted a physical answer… my current limit.
The moment I finished the input, the opponent appeared.
A man in his mid-twenties, expressionless, standing with absolute stability. His wooden sword didn't look threatening… but I knew better than to underestimate this system.
I picked up my assigned wooden sword.
The weight felt just right.
"Shall we begin?" I muttered, assuming a simple combat stance.
The opponent didn't wait.
He lunged forward in a direct, efficient step. Despite the clarity of the motion, I couldn't fully block it. His sword slammed into mine with enough force to make my arm tremble.
Another strike followed… then another… then a third.
Each blow was precise, clean, and without hesitation.
I stepped back.
This… wasn't as easy as I had expected.
On the fourth attack, his body flowed smoothly into a low angle, delivering a lateral strike. I failed to evade it completely. The impact hit my side, sending me backward and down.
"First duel: Defeat."
I stood up, breathing deeply.
Alright… this was normal. No problem.
"Again."
The second match began.
Within ten seconds, I was on the ground.
Then the third… the fourth… the fifth…
Each time, I lost balance or reacted a fraction too late.
Five defeats… ten defeats…
My frustration grew—not anger at myself, but the feeling that something had to change. That I had to learn.
By the nineteenth duel, something shifted.
My body began to anticipate certain movements.
My nerves reacted before conscious thought.
I started imitating the opponent's patterns little by little.
This system was brilliant—it relied on flawless standard techniques.
The twentieth duel…
The twenty-fifth…
I had only one goal: progress.
In the thirtieth duel, I used a move he had used against me dozens of times. I raised my sword at a sharp angle and stepped forward without hesitation—
The result—
I took his head.
The virtual opponent dissolved into light.
I held my sword for a second… then collapsed onto the floor, breathing heavily.
"…Finally," I muttered.
After a minute of rest, I stood again.
"Again."
This time, I lost.
Then I won.
Then I lost—barely.
Then I won… and won… and won again.
In the end, after about thirty additional duels, the final result stood at:
18 victories – 12 defeats.
That was more than enough for today.
When I left the room, my body screamed in pain.
Four full hours of nonstop combat—no mana, just flesh and bone. My arms felt like they'd tear off, my legs like they'd snap if I ran any farther.
I exited the hall to find the sky darkened—the night had already fallen.
Another long day.
I headed toward my room with heavy steps. The first thing I did was go straight to the bathroom. I let hot water pour over my body, allowing the heat to melt the tension from my muscles.
It was a rare feeling… comfort.
When I finished, I sat on the bed and closed my eyes for a few seconds.
Then I opened them.
I wasn't done yet.
I sat in a meditation posture and began training my mana control.
Despite the exhaustion, I knew this was the best moment to work with mana. When the body is depleted, mana becomes clearer… purer.
I began drawing mana from the air—slowly, steadily.
For the first time in a while, everything felt this clear.
The amount of mana gathering around me…
Its sensation…
Its flow…
Something was different.
"That's strange…" I whispered.
After several minutes, the mana became far more responsive, as if the internal barriers that had once restricted the flow were beginning to crack.
Then suddenly—
The sensation surged sharply.
Not pain… but a rush.
A pulse.
Then another.
Then an inner glow—not seen, but felt.
My breathing quickened.
"No way… did I…?"
I braced my hand against the floor as the mana threads inside my body reacted far more intensely than ever before.
"Did I just break through?"
I raised my head slightly, emotions mixing inside me—surprise, satisfaction… and even a hint of concern. I hadn't expected this, especially after pushing my body to its absolute limit.
But this… made sense.
When you approach your limit—when your body is on the verge of collapse—that is when breakthroughs are closest.
I straightened my posture.
"…Status."
Now, I would know exactly what had happened.
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