The training grounds were nearly empty by evening.

Most students had already finished their drills and gone back to the dormitories or dining hall.

A few stragglers remained.

I claimed one of the smaller practice rings near the back, away from prying eyes.

The sun hung low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the packed dirt. The air was cool, carrying the faint smell of sweat and steel.

I picked up a practice sword from the nearby rack, testing its weight.

Balanced.

I moved through the basic forms, footwork drills, guard positions, simple strikes.

One. Two. Three. Four.

My body had improved, due to the vigorous training I had put myself into, since I recovered from poisoning.

But it wasn't enough.

I kept going, pushing through the fatigue as my muscles burned and my breathing grew labored.

Sweat dripped down my face, soaking into my collar.

Again.

Again.

...

By the time I finally stopped, my arms felt like lead and my legs were shaking.

I dropped the practice sword, letting it clatter to the ground, and walked over to the bench where I'd left a waterskin.

I drank deeply, the cool water cutting through the dryness in my throat.

Then I sat down, leaning back against the wooden fence, and closed my eyes.

Breathe.

In. Out.

Clear the mind.

I let the sounds of the training ground fade into background nois, the distant clang of weapons, the rustle of wind through the trees, the faint murmur of voices.

Focus inward.

My breathing slowed. Heartbeat steadied.

Minutes passed. Maybe longer. Time felt slippery when I was like this.

Finally, I opened my eyes.

The sun had dipped lower, the sky now streaked with orange and purple.

I pulled up my status mentally.

[STATUS]

Name: Jin Raith

Age: 17

Class: Debugger

Level: 6

EXP: 0/850

Rank: F

MC (Mana Capacity): 11/50

HP: 205/245

MP: 67/67

STR: 15 (+1)

VIT: 12

AGI: 13 (+1)

INT: 47

WIS: 39

LUK: 16

STR 15. AGI 13.

Progress. Slow, but real.

I closed the status window and stood, stretching my arms overhead.

But it's not enough.

Training like this will take years to catch up to people like Marcus or Toren.

And I don't have years.

I picked up the practice sword again, staring at it.

I can't rely on traditional training.

I activated Debug Vision.

The world shifted, overlays appearing over everything in my field of view.

I focused on the practice sword in my hand.

[Object Analysis]

object_id: "practice_sword_27"

type: "training_weapon"

material: "hardwood_oak"

condition: 78/100

age: 4_years

weight: 1.2_kg

balance_point: 12_cm_from_hilt

durability: "good"

sharpness: 0 (blunted)

enchantments: none

value: 8_copper

Hardwood. Weighted to simulate steel. Balance point twelve centimeters from the hilt.

What if I change that?

I focused, pulling up the edit interface.

[Minor String Edit Available]

Target: practice_sword_27

Parameter: balance_point

Current Value: 12_cm_from_hilt

Edit to: ?

I hesitated.

If I shift the balance point forward, the blade becomes tip-heavy. Harder to control but more momentum in strikes.

If I shift it backward, the handle becomes heavier. Faster recovery, less power.

What happens if I go extreme?

I set the new value.

[balance_point: 5_cm_from_hilt]

[Confirm? Y/N]

I confirmed.

The sword shimmered faintly in my hand, the wood rippling like water for half a second before solidifying again.

I swung it.

Fast. Way faster.

The balance was completely different, the weight concentrated near the hilt made the blade feel almost weightless. Recovery was instant.

But the strikes had no power behind them. They felt hollow.

I reversed the edit, setting the balance point back to normal, then pushed it the other way.

[balance_point: 20_cm_from_hilt]

The sword shifted again.

This time, when I swung, the blade felt like it was dragging me forward. Heavy. Slow to recover.

But the impact...

I struck the practice dummy.

CRACK!

The wooden head splintered, chips flying.

Okay. That's more like it.

I reset the balance point again, letting the sword return to its default state.

I can manipulate the weapon's properties mid-fight.

Fast recovery for defense. Heavy strikes for offense.

But each edit cause neural strains.

I turned my attention to the practice dummy.

[Object Analysis]

object_id: "training_dummy_12"

type: "training_equipment"

material: "oak_wood + padding"

condition: 64/100

age: 6_years

durability: "fair"

stability: 87% (weighted_base)

value: 12_copper

[Minor String Edit]

Target: training_dummy_12

Parameter: stability

Current Value: 87%

Edit to: 30%

I confirmed.

The dummy wobbled slightly, its base no longer holding it firmly in place.

I struck it, a simple horizontal slash.

The dummy toppled over immediately, crashing to the ground.

Too much. But...

I pulled it upright and reset the stability to 70%.

This time, when I struck it, the dummy rocked backward but stayed upright, barely.

There.

If I can destabilize an opponent's balance mid-fight, even slightly, it creates openings.

Combine that with weapon edits...

I ran through a few more experiments.

Lowering the friction on the dummy's base so it slid when struck.

Increasing the air resistance around my sword mid-swing to slow an opponent's perception of my attack speed.

Editing my own grip strength temporarily.

Each edit left an ache behind my eyes.

But they worked.

I reset everything, letting the dummy and sword return to normal, and checked my MP.

MP: 19/67

Then suddenly, pain exploded behind my eyes.

Fuck—!

I dropped the practice sword, stumbling backward as my vision blurred. The world tilted sideways, and I caught myself against the fence, gasping.

No. No, this was a bad idea.

The ache wasn't just in my head anymore, it was spreading, a dull, throbbing pressure that felt like my skull was being squeezed in a vice.

I pushed too hard.

My legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the ground, one hand pressed against my temple.

The pain pulsed in waves, each one worse than the last.

Stupid. You knew this would happen.

I fumbled for my pack with shaking hands, digging through it until my fingers closed around a small glass vial.

Mana potion.

I'd bought it days ago from the Academy supply shop, expensive, but necessary. Emergency backup for situations exactly like this.

I uncorked it with my teeth and chugged it down.

The taste was bitter. It burned going down my throat, settling in my stomach like liquid fire.

Then the effect hit.

MP: 19/67 —> 45/67

The mana reserves refilled, the numbers climbing back toward something manageable.

But the ache remained.

The pressure behind my eyes didn't fade.

Of course. Mana potions restore MP, not neural strain.

I groaned, forcing myself upright, leaning heavily against the fence.

I shook my head, trying to clear the fog, and stood on unsteady legs.

Enough.

I grabbed my pack and stumbled toward the exit, leaving the practice sword where it had fallen.

The campus was quiet at night.

The pathways were lit by evenly spaced lanterns, their warm glow casting long shadows.

I kept my head down, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other.

Reaching halfway across the main plaza, I paused as I caught the movement near the Academy's central building.

Figures, walking alongside Headmaster Corwin.

Their white and gold robes were elaborate, trimmed with intricate embroidery that caught the lantern light.

Who the hell are they?

I stopped near the edge of the manicured gardens, half-hidden by a low stone wall, and watched.

There were three of them. Two men and a woman.

Corwin walked beside them, his posture respectful but not subservient. He was speaking, his voice too low to carry, but his tone was formal.

They reached the main gate, and one of the robed figures—a tall man with silver hair—turned back toward Corwin.

"Take good care," the man said, his voice deep and commanding. "I don't want any failures."

"Of course, Your Eminence," Corwin replied, bowing slightly. "The Academy will not disappoint."

The robed figures nodded, then turned to leave, their footsteps echoing against the cobblestones as they passed through the gate and into the darkness beyond.

Corwin stood there for a moment, watching them go, his expression unreadable.

Then he turned and walked back toward the building.

I stayed where I was, frozen in place.

Your Eminence?

Who the hell were they?

Church officials? Royal advisors? Someone from the Council?

My mind raced, trying to piece together context from the fragments I'd overheard.

"Take good care. I don't want any failures."

Failures of what?

Then, suddenly, one of the robed figures stopped.

The woman.

She turned her head, slowly, scanning the area behind her.

Her gaze swept across the gardens.

Then toward me.

Shit!

I ducked behind the stone wall, pressing myself flat against the cold surface, my heart hammering in my chest.

Did she see me?

Why the hell is my heart racing like this?

The rational part of my brain tried to calm down.

You're just a student. Standing in a garden. There's nothing suspicious about that.

But the instinctive part was screaming.

Danger. That's danger.

I stayed perfectly still, barely breathing, waiting.

Seconds stretched into what felt like hours.

Then I heard it, footsteps, continuing forward. Fading into the distance.

I waited another minute, just to be sure, before risking a glance over the wall.

The robed figures were gone.

Corwin had disappeared back into the building.

The plaza was empty again.

I exhaled shakily, my hands trembling.

What the hell was that?

Why did I react like that?

It was just a glance. She didn't even see me. Probably.

But the unease lingered, heavy and cold in my chest.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.