The perspective of Kathlyn and Professor Mallet had been simple: Kai foamed at the mouth for a few seconds, then collapsed. No flashes of magic, no dramatic explosion just a kid twitching and dropping like a bug under a boot.
Two full days passed.
And then Kai woke up.
His eyes snapped open like a corpse possessed. For a moment, he just laid there, breathing heavily, staring up at the ceiling. Then the laughter started quiet, building, nearly manic. He pulled up his Status screen with shaking fingers.
---
Name: Kai Asukura
Mana Control: B
Physical Ability: C
Mana Affinity: Darkness
Talent Grade: B+
Mana Potency: 4010
Power Level: 3200
---
"Power Level? Mana Potency?" Kai muttered.
He blinked.
"What the hell...?"
He could vaguely remember this being something added to the paperback re-release of the novel some kind of retcon update to make the stats more game-like. Kai had planned to binge all the volumes once they released, but now he was here. Living it. A deep sense of dread settled in his gut.
"There were supposed to be a lot more changes in the new release," he whispered. "How many other things did the author rewrite...?"
Still, he forced himself to calm down.
His Mana Control had jumped from C to B. That alone was a massive improvement. Mastering high-tier spells like the Lightless Blade's stealth, reinforcement, and transformation techniques had paid off.
Without the inheritance and all his stats sitting at C-grade from the beginning it would of been a nightmare But now?
Now he had cheats
"It's been two days," Kai muttered.
He dressed quickly and made his way back to Professor Mallet's office.
Mallet barely glanced up from his desk. "Oh, you're alive. Your friend has already started training."
"Figures," Kai grumbled, then headed to the Class A Training Hall.
---
When he arrived, he was met with a bizarre sight 4 students crowding around a single training area, whispering.
Laying in the center of the field was June fast asleep, radiating mana like a ticking bomb. No one dared to disturb him.
He had only now realised how autistic June must seem
Professor Eisen noticed Kai and approached.
"Ah, the student who stole the victory out from under our golden boy," she said, her voice amused. "Now that you're here, you can request grand tutors for any subject. Spells, theory, enchantment or, if you prefer, combat."
Kai didn't hesitate.
"Combat. I want sword training."
She raised an eyebrow. "Then you'll be training with the Combat Scholar. He's the one who teaches the War God Sword Style."
Kai nodded. "Perfect."
---
The Combat Scholar was a thickly built man in minimalist robes, with a gaze like a mountain waiting to fall. His presence alone silenced the training hall.
"You're the one?" he asked.
Kai stepped forward. "I am."
"Then just do all you can just try shit
Here I'll help you he moved his fingers to Kai's skull and ignited something in Kai's brain
That was pretty sure...
something changed it made Kai feel violent
Kai didn't wait.
The moment the Combat Scholar nodded, Kai picked up a training sword and charged.
No grounding stances.
No preparation.
He launched into motion like a wild animal unleashed, and it began.
A
mad sword dance.
No form. No pattern. Just swings.
The short amount of training he did at the end of his session in fellis hall really helped
A dozen slashes in the first ten seconds. Wild, unrefined, furious. His body spun, twisted, lunged cut after cut after cut. Every motion bled into the next. Downward strikes turned into upward slices. Side cuts looped into full-body spins. He stomped the ground, flipped the sword behind his back, flipped it again, and slammed it into an invisible enemy.
One minute in he looked insane.
Ten minutes in he looked possessed.
Whatever the Combat Scholar had done had a maddening effect
The blade never stopped moving. There was no rhythm. No elegance. Just raw, explosive, nonstop chaos.
Sweat poured from his brow, stung his eyes, ran down his back.
His hands burned from the friction.
And still he moved.
Thirty minutes.
Every motion came with a grunt or a breath. He slashed so hard his muscles screamed at him. The sword bit into the stone floor a dozen times. He didn't care. He didn't slow.
He twisted his wrists
Spin. Slash. Overhead. Sweep.
Jump. Swing downward so hard the echo boomed.
Repeat.
The Combat Scholar didn't interrupt. He just stood by, arms crossed, watching like one observes a hurricane tear through a forest.
An hour passed.
Kai's arms trembled now.
His footwork got heavier. More brutal. He stomped instead of stepped. He pivoted like he was trying to break the floor. Every swing left traces of mana in the air. Darkness trailing behind each cut. Not intentional just leftover pressure from the speed and weight of it.
He didn't care if the strikes were efficient.
He didn't care if they made sense.
Hour two.
His body slowed but his will didn't.
He yelled now. With every slash. Every step. Roars, curses, low growls. Blood began to drip from his hands palms torn, knuckles scraped, fingers stiff and cracked.
Still, he moved.
He seemed crazy
Hour three.
His body faltered—but recovered.
He fell once. Tripped on his own momentum. Slammed into the floor. His nose cracked. Blood flowed freely down his chin.
He wiped it away with the back of his hand and kept going.
Another spin. Another strike.
He cut a full circle around himself, then slashed upward into the air with a cry that didn't even sound human.
Hour four.
His feet left red prints on the stone floor. Blisters torn. Ankles buckling. He was fighting air, phantoms, himself.
The sword hit nothing but the empty world and yet he fought like he was surrounded on all sides.
His swings were so wide, his body followed them. His spine bent unnaturally. His shoulders locked mid-motion. He screamed again, louder, hoarser.
Hour five.
The Combat Scholar looked like he was watching a god bleed.
Kai's shirt was gone—ripped halfway off during a spin. His chest heaved. His knees bent every few seconds then forced themselves straight again like he was rejecting the idea of rest.
The blade? Chipped. The edge dull.
Didn't matter.
He kept swinging.
He used the hilt to punch the air. Used the guard to hook imaginary arms. Every part of the weapon became a tool.
There was no technique.
No pauses.
Only madness
Only forward.
Hour six.
The sound of the sword scraping stone echoed across the chamber.
Kai's legs gave out.
He dropped—landed on one knee.
Stayed there.
For five seconds.
Then rose.
One more swing.
One more.
He kept going until his arms finally froze. Until the sword slipped from his fingers and clattered to the floor. Until his vision tunneled and all he could see was his own blood in his footprints.
Then he stopped.
Panting. Trembling.
Chest rising and falling like a dying engine.
He stood in the center of a storm of his own making floor scarred, air still trembling with leftover mana.
The Combat Scholar walked over slowly.
"...That was no form," he said.
"That wasn't swordsmanship."
Kai didn't respond. He just kept breathing. Waiting.
The man looked down at the blade. Then at the blood on the floor.
"That was violence were gonna refine into a fighting style
The spells effect seemed to wear off all this dude needs to do is be a pervert and his teaching skills would Increase tenfold
But at that someone woke up YOU I WANT TO SPAR WITH YOU...THIEF naturally it was June