Then Viktor saw the floor.

A tiny piece of stone—knocked loose earlier when the knight's sword had cracked the ground—sat exactly where Viktor's foot had landed.

'It used Tactical Genius,' Viktor realized with growing horror. 'It tracked every piece of debris during the fight. Calculated where I'd dodge based on my movement patterns. Then PLACED that debris there during an earlier exchange.'

"You've got to be shitting me," Viktor gasped, switching his sword to his left hand. His right arm hung useless, shoulder screaming.

The wooden knight tilted its head. The motion was mechanical. Curious.

Like it was analyzing him.

Viktor's mind raced. 'Alright. Alright, think. I have the same abilities, but it's using them like a fucking chess computer. Calculating fifty moves ahead while I'm stuck thinking three steps at a time.'

'But I'm human. I can improvise. I can—'

The wooden knight blurred.

Speed Acceleration.

It closed the distance in less than a second, wooden blade sweeping in a horizontal arc aimed at Viktor's midsection.

Viktor's Ultra Instinct triggered. He jumped backward—

—directly into another wooden doll.

His back hit solid oak. The doll didn't move. Didn't fall.

'It herded me!'

The wooden knight's blade continued its arc, adjusting upward now—aimed at Viktor's throat.

Viktor dropped to his knees.

The sword passed overhead, so close it shaved splinters from the wooden doll behind him.

Viktor lunged forward from his kneeling position, driving his practice blade upward in a desperate thrust aimed at the knight's exposed armpit joint.

THUNK.

His blade connected—

—and stopped cold.

Viktor blinked.

The wooden knight had shifted its weight mid-swing, dropping its arm at the exact moment to trap Viktor's blade between its elbow and ribs.

'That's not possible. That's—'

The knight's knee came up.

CRACK!

It slammed into Viktor's ribs with the force of a hammer.

Something broke.

Viktor's breath exploded from his lungs in a wet gasp. He flew backward, tumbling across the stone floor, his practice sword clattering away.

He landed hard on his back, vision swimming.

'Can't... breathe...'

Pain radiated through his chest with every attempted inhale. At least two ribs were cracked, maybe three.

Through blurred vision, Viktor saw the wooden knight approaching. Not rushing. Just walking.

Methodical.

Viktor's hand scrabbled across the stone, searching for his dropped sword. His fingers brushed wood—

The knight's boot came down on his wrist.

Not hard enough to break. Just enough to pin.

Viktor looked up.

The wooden knight stood over him, sword raised in a two-handed grip, tip pointed directly at Viktor's heart.

'This is it,' Viktor thought distantly. 'This is how I die. Killed by a fucking wooden puppet with my own abilities.'

His dark eyes tracked the knight's stance. Perfect form. No wasted movement. Every muscle—or whatever passed for muscles in an animated wooden construct—coiled for the finishing thrust.

'It used everything,' Viktor realized, almost in awe. 'Shadow Walk for positioning. Speed Acceleration for closing distance. Tactical Genius to predict my movements and manipulate the battlefield. Ultra Instinct to counter my attacks. Rapid Thought to process combinations faster than I could adapt.'

'And I...'

Viktor coughed. Blood flecked his lips.

'I fought like a human. One ability at a time. Linear thinking. Predictable patterns.'

The wooden knight's blade began its descent.

Viktor closed his eyes.

'Guess that's the difference between meat and machine.'

"YOUNG LORD!"

Elara's scream echoed through the chamber.

The wooden knight froze.

Its blade stopped—tip resting against Viktor's chest, not quite penetrating.

Viktor's eyes snapped open.

The system window materialized above him.

.[Training Session Complete].

.[Host Status: Defeated].

.[Survival Rate: 0%].

.[Combat Efficiency: 34%].

.[Ability Integration: Suboptimal].

.[Recommendation: Additional training required].

Viktor stared at the text. Then he started laughing.

It hurt. God, it hurt like hell with his broken ribs. But he couldn't stop.

"Hah... haha... HAHAHAHA!"

The wooden knight stepped back, removing its boot from Viktor's wrist. It straightened, returning to a neutral stance, sword lowered.

Viktor lay there on the cold stone, bleeding, broken, laughing like a madman.

"Thirty-four percent!" he wheezed between laughs. "I got my ass kicked so hard I only scored THIRTY-FOUR PERCENT!"

Behind him, Elara stood frozen at the chamber entrance, hands over her mouth, amber eyes wide with shock.

Rusty bounced nervously. 'Kyu... kyu...?'

Viktor forced himself to sit up, wincing as his ribs screamed protest. Blood dripped from his mouth, his shoulder, various cuts he didn't remember getting.

He looked at the wooden knight.

It stood motionless now, mission complete, waiting for the next command.

"You know what the worst part is?" Viktor said, voice hoarse. "That thing has my abilities. MY abilities. And it used them better than I ever could."

He wiped blood from his face.

He lay there, he felt his blood rush. For the first time in all three lives he felt as if that's exactly what he wanted—fucking machine which fought like him to see his limits.

And he fucking did...

His eyes clearly wide with excitement, blood rushing, repeating the same thing which could only be understood by a man who was truly hit by surge of adrenaline.

'Because it doesn't hesitate. Doesn't second-guess. Just calculates the optimal combination and executes.'

Viktor's dark eyes—no longer flashing purple, just exhausted and human—stared at the construct.

"Like a machine."

He let his head fall back, staring at the empty darkness above.

"Fuck."

The word echoed through the first floor of the dungeon, swallowed by shadows.

[Would Host like to initiate recovery sequence?]

'Fuck, I can't die due to physical death immunity gotten from Kaida and now I can ultimately Heal while fighting a machine made for just to train me?!'

Viktor also wanted to curse naturally like a human? Like how all of them curse upon things like Why they were born in a poor family?

Why they were dragged in a life they didn't choose to?

He wanted to just curse a bit that his higher self that designated him his life, that designated him his wife, lust.

And system was a pure bastard controlling him like a puppet.

Like naturally Viktor understood, but not in a way where he completely did it.

But now, realizing everything: He can clearly see his higher self was favoring him by throwing into things while making sure that he doesn't break, as if the amount of difficulty is set to not make him stagnant but also keep him grow past his present limit.

So, was he really a puppet of his own Story?

No, he was growing through a life that was filled with Sex, Power and destined for greatness but not like a lottery but rather as a claim by his own efforts.

And there, slowly rising from his place, clutching his ribs, Elara clearly shocked, trying to help him, not understanding what happened here, as she did not believe he fought that thing in such a way that to her was nearly invisible.

Her eyes widened looking at him in a completely different light, while he, uncaring of what she thought, just smirked and ordered the system.

"Heal me and start the fucking fight AGAIN!"

The command left his lips in a roar, a challenge thrown not just at the system, but at the very concept of weakness.

[Recovery Sequence Initiated]

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