Morning sunlight bathed the training grounds, where students clashed in fierce sparring matches. The metallic clang of swords echoed in the air, blending with the occasional grunt of effort. Some students practiced controlling their aura, their energy fluctuating as they struggled for mastery.
Alex stood at a distance, watching the sparring session unfold.
"Only fifteen days left," he thought. "Once the illusion protecting the artifact is gone, I'll steal it."
Why was he so sure? According to both Farkal and the drunkard, the artifact couldn't be moved by anyone. Yet, Alex was confident. He would use Uxil Affinity. But if it were that simple, someone else would have done it by now. The reason they hadn't? Affinity alone was useless—only Uxil herself held the power.
Alex had already formed a plan. He wasn't a fool who would recklessly break into the most powerful kingdom to steal their greatest source of security. So, how would he do it?
Uxil Affinity. When someone wielded it, they could access her magic. But could they meet her? The answer was yes—though only when their heart channels were completely filled with her affinity. Even then, her presence wasn't guaranteed. A ritual was required, involving rare herbs and offerings of things she liked. Would that be enough to please her? Unlikely. But from the very start, this was a gamble.
The real issue wasn't meeting her—it was whether she would reveal the artifact's secrets. And the answer was obvious. No.
So, what would Alex do? Probably something heinous.
The sparring match ended as Rizark claimed his fourth consecutive victory.
Alex smirked. These kids are making a fuss over a simple spar, while I'm gambling with an entire kingdom. It wasn't so simple. If he hadn't spent time with that man—Arnik, the one he killed—his chances would be even slimmer. His fist clenched at the thought, but he let out a frustrated sigh.
He clapped his hands. "Alright, who's next? If anyone defeats Rizark, I'll grant them… hmm, let's say a monitor position."
Rizark grinned, stepping forward confidently. "And if no one beats me, do I get the position, Teacher Sheng?"
Alex shook his head. "No, you can't."
Rizark frowned. "Why not? Do you still hate me, Teacher?"
"I don't," Alex said simply.
One by one, the students challenged Rizark. The duels dragged on until, finally, the training ground fell into silence. Rizark stood tall, cracking his knuckles, gleaming with confidence. His aura surged like a storm. He had already crushed thirty opponents. To him, this was just another warm-up.
Across from him, Rosillia stepped forward. Unlike the others, she showed no hesitation. Her emerald-green hair swayed as she adjusted her stance, her piercing gaze locked onto Rizark. The pressure between them was suffocating, the clash of auras sending ripples through the air.
A sly grin tugged at Rizark's lips. "You're the last one? This'll be quick."
Rosillia remained unfazed. She took a deep breath, her fingers tightening around the hilt of her blade. "We'll see."
"Begin!" Sheng's voice rang out.
Rizark lunged first, vanishing from sight in a burst of speed. The ground cracked under the force of his movement. He reappeared in front of Rosillia, his fist coated in golden flames as he struck forward.
Boom!
Rosillia barely dodged, her figure flickering like an illusion. The moment Rizark's punch missed, she retaliated—a sharp arc of wind followed the swing of her sword, slashing toward his side.
Rizark twisted his body mid-air, avoiding the blade by a hair's breadth. His golden aura flared wildly as he inhaled deeply.
Dragon's Breath!
A torrent of golden flames exploded from his mouth, roaring toward Rosillia like a wave of destruction. The heat distorted the air, melting the ground in its path.
But Rosillia didn't back down. She raised her sword, and a deep green glow enveloped her entire body. The air trembled as her own dragon power surged forth.
Dragon's Roar!
A deafening shockwave burst from her throat, colliding head-on with Rizark's flames. The two forces clashed, creating a chaotic explosion that sent gusts of wind tearing through the training ground.
Dust and embers swirled, obscuring the fighters.
Suddenly, Rizark's silhouette darted through the smoke, claws extending from his fingertips. He slashed at Rosillia, aiming for her throat.
But she was ready.
With a glimmer of movement, she ducked low, her sword humming with energy. In one swift motion, she swung upward. A streak of emerald light sliced through the air.
Rizark's eyes widened as pain surged through his chest. He barely managed to leap back, blood dripping onto the ground.
The crowd gasped. On the thirty-first match, Rosillia defeated him.
Alex, still standing at a distance, spoke out loudly, "No shame at all, kid. What was your name again, Rizark? Losing to a woman?"
Rizark clenched his jaw, making a sad, irritated face. "Sorry, Teacher…"
Alex let out a sigh and turned. "Let's move to your dorms, one by one. We'll train tomorrow." Then his gaze shifted to Rizark. "And you, kid—come with me to the healing chamber."
One by one, the students left, their footsteps echoing in the quiet training ground. As Rizark followed beside Alex, he touched his bruises, his expression unreadable.
Alex said nothing. The two walked in silence, until they reached the healing chamber—a room beside the principal's office.
With a soft creak, Alex pushed the door open, stepping inside. The scent of herbs filled the air, shelves lined with bandages, ointments, and vials.
But what caught Alex's attention wasn't the supplies.
It was the doctor.
A familiar old man stood before them, his usual appearance unchanged—except for the round little glasses perched on his nose.
Alex sighed. "Old man… what are you? A cosplayer now?"
The principal huffed. "You have no respect for your elders."
Behind Alex, Rizark stiffened.
Alex glanced at him and patted his head. "Relax, kid. He's not gonna punish you or anything. Go get treated."
Rizark hesitated before stepping forward. The old man began his work, carefully bandaging his wounds.
As the herb touched his scar, Rizark gritted his teeth, murmuring in pain.
The old man clicked his tongue. "You're too strict with these kids."
Alex leaned back in his chair. "You think so?"
"Can't you see he's injured badly?"
Alex's gaze remained cold. "It's nothing. If he can't even handle this much pain, how is he supposed to survive in this heinous world?"
The old man nodded. "You're certainly right. But still…" He set the bandages aside. "That matter aside, a new teacher is arriving tomorrow. He's human, like you. Help him out a little."
Alex sighed. "I'm not helping anyone. Let's get something straight—I'm here to teach. That's all. Honestly, I didn't expect your king to assign me to twelve-year-old brats."
The old man chuckled. "I know, I know. You wanted to teach the older students, but this is our only academy. The higher classes already have teachers."
"Tch. Whatever." Alex stood up. "Come on, kid."
Rizark followed behind him, but after a few steps, he hesitated. Then, he asked, "Teacher… how long will you be here? You're not leaving soon, are you?"
Alex raised an eyebrow. "A month. Maybe two. You'll be happy when I'm gone, won't you?"
"I'm not," Rizark said immediately.
Alex stopped walking. "Why?"
"I don't know, Teacher…" Rizark hesitated before stepping forward, his voice growing firmer. "You've only been here eight days, but I've already improved a lot. The fundamentals you taught… they were easy to apply. I'm not naturally strong like Rosillia and the others, but—"
He suddenly ran ahead, turned, and smiled brightly.
"I want to be just like you when I grow up."
And with that, he rushed off, leaving Alex standing alone.
Alex exhaled, rubbing his temple. "These kids…"
He shook his head. Better not to think about it too much.