"What the heck?" the combat instructor broke the suffocating silence, his voice dropping into a dangerous, low octave as he stepped onto the black sand. His sharp grey eyes darted from the unconscious, armorless form of Marcus up to Thomas.
"When you walked through the classroom doors this morning, you explained to the whole class what your talent does. You claimed Enhanced Analysis lets you find structural flaws and track low-density mana. And although awakening a Talent does increase one’s physical durability, the enancement differs with the type of Talent one awakens. So how does a Utility Talent wielder get to absorb a volcanic onslaught from a Combat oriented Talent completely unharmed." the instructor paused. "I think it’s time you explain to us what your talent actually does, Thomas. Right now."
Because a talent was entirely unique to every individual in this world, nobody truly understood the exact mechanics of another person’s power until the user revealed it themselves. Thomas steeled his expression, carefully preparing the hidden, deeper layer of the lie he had established earlier that morning. He kept his voice steady, delivering a version of the truth that was entirely accurate, yet fundamentally masked.
"It is the unique nature of my talent, Instructor," Thomas lied smoothly, his voice echoing in the dead-silent coliseum. "My Enhanced Analysis doesn’t just scan objects from afar, it analyzes incoming kinetic and thermal threats the moment they make contact with my flesh. Once my body experiences a specific type of offensive mana output, my talent instantly maps the flow and tells my physical vessel how to counter-balance and neutralize the impact. Essentially... the exact same move cannot hurt me twice. My body automatically calibrates to the opponent’s scale after I have experienced it."
A collective murmur rippled through the rows of High-bloods. Since every talent in the world was completely unique, they couldn’t openly disprove his claim, but the implications were terrifying. Julian, still standing at his bench, slowly sat back down, his gaze narrowing as he processed Thomas’s words.
The instructor stared at Thomas for a long, grueling moment, processing the bizarre rules of the boy’s unique power, before finally letting out a harsh breath. "A Talent like that deserves to be a Grade S, but then again the crystal is never wrong. Maybe It’s because of you lesser biology, and the size of your mana core whatever the reason is, it is highly unusual, but it fits the unique nature of the awakening. Class dismissed! Someone get Marcus to the infirmary."
An hour later, Thomas and Ryan finally escaped the heavy atmosphere of the combat towers and pushed open the heavy wooden door to their shared on-campus dorm room.
Thomas stepped inside and paused, a wave of genuine relief washing over him. The academy staff had been thorough; because his family had been moved by the Crown, all of Thomas’s meager belongings from his old village had already been packed, transported, and neatly arranged in his half of the room. The space was simple but clean, containing two wooden beds, two study desks, and a wide window looking out over the lower courtyard.
Ryan slammed the door shut behind them and practically exploded with energy, throwing his canvas bag onto his mattress.
"By the gods, Thomas! You absolute madman!" Ryan yelled, a massive, uncontainable grin breaking across his handsome features. "You made a complete fool out of Marcus! A lesser-blood utility type knocking a High-blood elite flat on his back? You just made a massive name for yourself by defeating a High-blood! They are going to be talking about this for months!"
Thomas let out a quiet laugh, sitting down on the edge of his bed as the adrenaline from the fight finally began to fade. "I just did what I had to do to survive, Ryan."
As the evening pressed on, the two roommates settled into their new space, the tension of the academy fading into easy camaraderie. They began sharing stories about how they grew up, trading pieces of their past over the quiet thrum of the campus night. Ryan spoke about his childhood, and also describing the constant, grueling pressure of being looked down upon, while Thomas shared the quiet, exhausting reality of working the fields back in his destitute village.
But as the room grew darker, Ryan’s cheerful expression slowly faded, turning serious as he looked across the gap between their beds.
"You made a massive name for yourself today and back at the ceremony, Thomas," Ryan said quietly, his tone dripping with genuine concern. "But you need to understand something. The nobility in this kingdom do not forget humiliations. By breaking Marcus’s armor in front of everyone, you just painted a massive target on your back. You have real enemies now, Tom. You need to watch out for yourself."
Thomas looked out the window, his eyes catching the distant, glowing spires of the Holy City.
He turned back to Ryan, a cold, unshakeable calm settling over his face. the come
[ ALERT: HOSTILE PRESENCE DETECTED ]
* Target Location: External Threshold of Unit 112
* Signature Match: Julian (High-Blood / Grade S)
Before Thomas could formulate a reply to Ryan’s warning, a cold chime resonated inside his skull. His right eye subtly twitched behind his eyelids as the system’s tracking fed a localized threat reading directly into his mind.
Knock. Knock.
The sudden, sharp rapping against the heavy wooden door sliced through the quiet dormitory room. Ryan flinched, his eyes instantly widening as his hand dropped instinctively to the hilt of his iron training dagger. The atmospheric pressure inside the room spiked, a faint, chilling residue of gravity mana bleeding through the cracks of the doorframe.
Thomas stood up smoothly, his muscles moving without a single trace of hesitation. He crossed the floor and pulled the heavy door open.
Standing in the dimly lit stone corridor was Julian.
The handsome noble had discarded his gold-trimmed academy jacket, wearing only a pristine white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled neatly up to his forearms. His silver-rimmed glasses glinted under the flickering hallway torches, and his striking ebony eyes looked down at Thomas with a terrifying, absolute calm.
"Julian," Thomas noted, his voice flat.
"Relax, lesser," Julian said, his casual tone carrying a deep, natural arrogance that didn’t even require a raised voice. He didn’t make a move to step inside their lower-class quarters, merely leaning against the stone doorframe. "I didn’t come here to finish what Marcus started. I simply came to give you a piece of advice. Bring your absolute ’A-game’ to the tournament. I would be highly disappointed if you fell out in the preliminary brackets.
"Thomas frowned, his brow furrowing in genuine confusion. "Tournament? What tournament?"
Julian let out a short, quiet chuckle, adjusting his glasses. "Fascinating. You really are fascinating, you better ask your roommate. I’ll see you on the arena floor, lesser. Don’t disappoint me."
Without waiting for a response, Julian turned on his heel and glided down the dark stone corridor, his presence vanishing back into the shadows of the elite towers.
Thomas closed the door and bolted it, turning around to face Ryan. The blonde boy was practically shaking, staring at the door as if a ghost had just walked past it.
"What the hell was he talking about, Ryan?" Thomas asked, walking back over to his bed. "What tournament?"
"The Inter-Class Freshman Tournament," Ryan exhaled loudly, running a hand through his blonde hair as he slid down against his mattress. "I forgot you missed the entire orientation week, Tom. Every single year, the academy hosts a massive, brutal tournament for all five classes of the first-year block. It’s the biggest event of the semester. The entire Holy City watches it."
Ryan leaned forward, his expression turning intensely serious. "But it’s not just a school competition. The stakes are insane. The top two students of that tournament get an automatic promotion. They get selected to join the academy’s ultimate elite faction a group known across the entire kingdom as The Horsemen of Calamity."
Thomas’s mind instantly flashed back to his awakening day. He remembered the heavy twilight sky, the deafening cheers, and the five legendary prodigies who had descended onto the stage at the Headmaster’s behest.
"Oh you mean lady Cecilia and the Four Horsemen..." Thomas murmured.
"Exactly," Ryan nodded grimly. "Cecilia the Midnight Valkyrie, Edward the Drunken Fist, Bron the Scarred Knight, Sabrina the Blood Fairy, and Peter the Ghost of Samra. They are all part of it Cecilia included. So it is incorrect to say say what you just said. The Horsemen are the kingdom’s absolute brightest weapons. They operate directly under the crown, completely separate from the standard military chain of command."
Thomas was stunned, from the village he was told that Cecilia was the leader of the Four Horsemen, but it was not in fact they were not even called the Four Horsemen.
Ryan paused, his voice dropping into a cautious whisper as he glanced toward the window. "But there’s a catch. Rumour says those five aren’t even the apex. The true leader of the Horsemen of Calamity is someone so overwhelmingly powerful that they rarely ever make an appearance on campus. Nobody even knows their real talent grade. Julian is aiming for one of those top two spots, Thomas. And after what you did to Marcus today, he views you as a wild card he needs to crush."
Thomas sat back down on his mattress, staring at the stone floor as a slow, cold smile crept onto his face.
A tournament against all five freshman classes. An elite faction ruled by a hidden leader. It was the perfect stage. To the rest of the academy, Thomas was just a utility student who got lucky once. They had absolutely no idea that every single match, every injury, and every terrifying combat talent thrown at him during that tournament would only serve as food for his Endless Adaptation.
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