"Who does he think he is, showing us up like that?" one of them muttered.
Another nodded, his tone bitter. "Just because he's from the Magnus household doesn't an he's better than us."
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"He'll slip up eventually," a third recruit sneered. "No one's perfect."
Asher ignored the whispers, his attention focused elsewhere. He wasn't here to make friends or to prove himself to them. His goal was far beyond their petty rivalries.
When the last recruit stumbled across the finish line, Renard finally called an end to the session. "That's enough for today," he announced. "Rest up. Tomorrow, we'll be conducting combat drills. If you thought today was hard, you're in for a rude awakening."
The recruits groaned but nodded, dragging themselves toward the barracks. Asher followed, his expression calm as ever. Emily had already left earlier, leaving him to navigate the new environnt on his own. He welcod the solitude—it gave him ti to reflect and strategize.
As he entered the barracks, a group of recruits blocked his path. It was the sa group of nobles who had been glaring at him earlier. Their leader, a tall boy with dark hair and sharp features, stepped forward, a smug smirk on his face.
"You think you're sothing special, don't you?" the boy said, his tone dripping with disdain. "Just because you're from the Magnus family doesn't an you can look down on the rest of us."
Asher t his gaze, unfazed. "I don't recall saying anything to you," he replied evenly. "If you have a problem, that's on you."
The boy's smirk faltered, replaced by a scowl. "You think you're clever, don't you?" he hissed. "Let's see how clever you are in a fight."
The others murmured in agreent, forming a loose circle around Asher. The tension in the air was palpable.
Asher sighed, his expression bored. "If this is your way of proving sothing, then fine," he said, stepping forward. "But don't say I didn't warn you."
The boy sneered. "Big talk for soone about to get humiliated."
Before he could finish, Asher moved. In a blur of motion, he closed the distance, grabbing the boy's arm and twisting it behind his back. The boy cried out in pain, his confidence crumbling in an instant.
The other recruits froze, their bravado evaporating as they realized how quickly Asher had taken control of the situation.
"I don't have ti for your gas," Asher said coldly, his voice low and dangerous. "If you want to waste your energy on petty grudges, that's your choice. But if you challenge again, I won't hold back."
With that, he released the boy, who stumbled forward, clutching his arm. The group dispersed quickly, their earlier hostility replaced with fear and respect.
Asher continued to his bunk, unbothered by the encounter. Let them hate if they want, he thought. It doesn't matter. My path is clear, and nothing will stand in my way.
The tension in the barracks lingered long after the nobles retreated to their bunks, whispering among themselves in subdued voices. Asher ignored them, unpacking his belongings with quiet efficiency. His military-issued gear was spartan but sufficient—a stark contrast to the opulence of his life in the Magnus household.
The barracks soon quieted as the recruits settled in for the night. Asher sat on the edge of his cot, gazing out the narrow window at the stars above. His thoughts drifted to the challenges ahead—combat drills, the looming threats of the outer area, and the shadow of his family's expectations. None of it daunted him, but he knew complacency was a death sentence in this world.
Morning ca abruptly, with the blaring of a horn that sent everyone scrambling out of their bunks. Asher was already awake, fully dressed and ready by the ti Renard entered the barracks.
"Move it, you lot!" Renard barked. "Drills start in ten minutes. If you're late, you'll wish you hadn't woken up at all!"
The recruits groaned but complied, rushing to form ranks outside. The early morning air was brisk, carrying a faint chill that prickled their skin. Renard paced in front of them, his sharp eyes scanning the group.
"Today, we separate the soldiers from the fodder," Renard began. "You'll be sparring with each other, and I expect nothing less than your best effort. Fail to et my standards, and you'll be reassigned to latrine duty for the foreseeable future."
He smirked at their collective wince. "Pairs have been pre-assigned. When I call your na, step forward."
The recruits stood at attention as Renard read from a list, pairing off fighters based on rank and skill level. Asher waited patiently, his expression neutral. When his na was finally called, Renard's eyes lingered on him with a faint glimr of amusent.
"Asher Magnus, you'll be sparring against Captain Liv."
A ripple of shock ran through the group. Whispers broke out among the recruits, their disbelief palpable.
"Against the captain? That's not fair."
"He's going to get destroyed."
"Serves him right, acting all high and mighty."
Asher didn't react to the murmurs, stepping forward with quiet confidence. Renard grinned, clearly enjoying the tension.
"Let's see if the so-called prodigy of the Magnus family can hold his own," Renard said, gesturing toward the sparring ring.
Normally, Asher would have avoided a match like this, but the rules here restricted the use of mana, forcing everyone to rely solely on their natural skills and fighting techniques. Realizing this, Asher stepped forward with determination, silently using his system points to max out his combat proficiency, refining his techniques to perfection.
"You're impressive, Asher Magnus," Renard said, circling him. "But your overwhelming strength has likely made you neglect the finer aspects of combat technique. That's why I'm fighting you under these conditions."
Asher nodded silently, his expression unreadable. Poor Renard had no idea that Asher had just upgraded his skills to the level of a martial arts grandmaster. The match was no longer about proving himself—it was about Asher testing how far he could push his newly honed abilities.
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