Soulless Soul

Chapter 28: Teachings

The next two weeks began with a strict, grueling routine that pushed Sky to his absolute limits.

Every morning, long before the artificial sun had fully risen to cast its crimson glow over the high-tech fortress of New Seoul, Sky reported to the training hall. While the other Commons trained in massive, boisterous groups under the watchful eyes of assistant instructors, he often requested official permission to isolate himself. He utilized one of the private training rooms Doctor Ronald had personally assigned to him in the eastern wing, away from prying eyes.

The room had become strangely familiar over the past fourteen days, its scent of ozone and synthetic floor mats welcoming him into a world of pain.

Heavy sweat dripped continuously from his forehead, stinging his eyes as another wooden practice sword spun rapidly through the air.

Sky closed his eyes tightly, relying entirely on his senses. For a brief, agonizing moment... there was nothing but the rushing sound of his own heavy breathing. Then, a faint, electric chill crawled up the back of his neck, setting his nervous system on fire.

There!

His body reacted entirely on raw instinct before his brain could form a single word. He twisted his shoulders sharply to the left, a fluid movement executed just as the heavy wooden sword crashed violently onto the floor beside his boot. "Again," Sky muttered through gritted teeth, his muscles aching.

He threw another sword into the air. And then another. Hours passed in a blur of motion as he repeatedly forced his [Danger Sense] to activate under stress. At the beginning of the week, the internal warning only came a mere heartbeat before impact, leaving him bruised and battered. By the end of this session, however, the gut-deep feeling arrived just a little earlier. It was a microscopic shift, but it gave him enough time to dodge with significantly less panic.

It was a tiny improvement. But in a world where the weak were eaten alive, an improvement was an improvement nonetheless. After retrieving the scattered weapons and placing them back on the rack, Sky took a short breath and focused his attention entirely on his second Attribute.

"Clones," he whispered.

A wave of warm, liquid energy flowed from deep within his soul core, rushing through his veins. A dark figure stepped effortlessly out of his shadow, solidifying into an identical form. Then, another emerged from his left. Finally... a third materialized to his right.

Three identical, perfectly formed Skys now stood before him in the bright white light of the training room.

Sky instinctively checked his internal system status, tracking the immediate drain on his spiritual reservoirs.

Energy: 10/100

Sky smiled bitterly, wiping a layer of sweat from his chin as he looked at his duplicates.

"Still entirely too expensive. Three is my absolute maximum before I’m running on empty."

Despite the steep resource cost, the three clones obeyed every single mental command perfectly. Sometimes, he ordered them to attack him together, forcing his [Danger Sense] to handle a multi-directional onslaught. Other times, they assumed tight defensive stances while he aggressively searched for microscopic openings in their identical styles.

The reinforced training room echoed continuously with the dull, heavy sound of fists colliding against flesh until every single clone finally reached its threshold, dissolving into shimmering, harmless particles of white soul energy that flowed back into his chest.

Sky collapsed flat onto his back on the floor, utterly exhausted, his chest heaving as he stared up at the clinical ceiling lights.

"I’ve still got a long, long way to go..." he whispered into the silence.

Later that afternoon, the freshman Commons gathered inside the dusty, book-lined walls of Professor Winter primary classroom. Instructor Rex stood beside the eccentric lady, her arms folded tightly across her chest, her military bearing casting a somber shadow over the rows of desks. Today’s lesson wasn’t about raw physical combat, weapon mastery, or ancient languages.

Professor Winter a frail, silver-haired matriarch with deep-set, gentle eyes and a weathered face reflecting profound wisdom. She possesses a dignified, grandmotherly grace, combining fragile physical vulnerability with an unbreakable, maternal selflessness.

Instead, Professor Winter picked up a digital stylus and wrote two heavy phrases across the glowing electronic board: Positive Curse and Negative Curse Several confused, anxious murmurs spread rapidly through the classroom. The students from the upper districts looked at each other, their casual postures vanishing.

Professor Winter smiled, her eyebrows jumping around as she turned to face the class. "The system Array grants everyone unique Attributes based on their trials," she paused, her eyes narrowing slightly behind his half-moon spectacles. "But it also universally grants everyone two distinct Curses upon ascension."

The room instantly became deathly quiet, the weight of the revelation pressing down on the teenagers. "Despite their traditional names, do not misunderstand the underlying mechanics," Winter warned, pointing a long finger toward the first words on the board. "A Positive Curse is not entirely positive or beneficial. Every grand blessing from the thresholds demands an equally heavy price. It enhances a power, but it twists the user’s reality." Then, her finger shifted smoothly to the right, tapping the next phrase.

"And conversely, a Negative Curse isn’t entirely negative or entirely a detriment. Many legendary Awakened throughout history have successfully turned their greatest weakness into their greatest, most lethal weapon. They learned the rules of their affliction and weaponized the logic against their enemies."

Sky listened with absolute, undivided attention, his body stiffening slightly in his seat. Professor Winter continued, her voice dropping into a solemn tone. "Never judge another person’s hidden Curse by its public name alone. The array is complex."

One student in the front row slowly raised a hand, looking toward the instructors. "Ma... shouldn’t teammates in an assigned squad know each other’s specific Curses to prevent accidents in the dungeon?" Professor Winter shook his head firmly, her silver hair swaying. "Only if you voluntarily choose to tell them."

Her expression grew frighteningly serious, stripping away her usual eccentric demeanor. "Your Curse exposes your absolute greatest weakness to the world. It is the flaw in your armor. Share it only with people you would trust with your life, because out in the ruins, that knowledge can be used to destroy you."

Sky subconsciously lowered his head, his gaze landing on the desk as his thoughts drifted toward the terrifying reality of his own Negative Curse. It was a treacherous flaw that drew unprovoked hatred and violence from anyone who looked at his face—a curse that had already nearly cost him his life against Vesper too.

For a brief, tense moment, a knot of anxiety tightened in his stomach. He wondered if Professor Winter sharp, analytical eyes had already deduced his secret.

But the elderly instructor simply continued teaching the technical parameters of soul manipulation without looking at anyone in particular. She never asked a single direct question. She never pressured the room. She never even hinted that the students should reveal their personal status windows to the faculty.

Sky found himself respecting the old alchemist significantly more. In a school run by cold military logistics, Professor Winter possessed a rare type of human decency.

Another student near the window spoke up, breaking the tension. "Ma... what is the exact operational difference between clearing a dungeon and undertaking a formal dungeon run?" This time, the scarred veteran Instructor Rex answered, his deep voice vibrating through the floorboards. "When you clear a basic dungeon, your singular objective is survival."

Everyone listened intently, the silence absolute. "You enter a designated sector of the Dungeon Realm, eliminate the native dungeon creatures, gather the valuable gems, ancient relics, and raw resources, complete the minor localized objective of that specific floor, and then return alive to the safety of the walls," Rex paused, his eyes flashing with a grim light before continuing. "A formal Dungeon Run is entirely different."

Doctor Ronald nodded in agreement, his silver pen tapping the board. "A true Dungeon Run directly challenges a dungeon’s core entity. Success in a Run allows humanity to permanently claim that sector, increasing society’s overall Rank and Class while expanding our safe zones."

The room remained perfectly silent as the cosmic stakes were laid bare. "If those Dungeon Runs are neglected by our forces..." Instructor Rex started, his voice dropping an octave as he finished the sentence. "...Dungeon Gates will begin appearing directly across the real world, tearing open our cities from the inside."

No one dared to ask another question after that. The immense, crushing weight of those final words was more than enough to silence the room for the rest of the day.

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