On the sports field, the uneven footsteps of students as they ran laps around the dirt track of the Igris quarter.
There were only five of them, all affiliated with House Igris, though not all in the sa class. Still, they made up a group of sorts.
Their navy-blue tracksuits clung to sweat-drenched skin.
Their breathing was loud, ragged. So dragged their feet. Others lifted their knees, as if just to avoid collapsing.
Among them, only one kept pace, eyes forward, silent : Dante.
Twentieth lap. Not a hint of exhaustion. Not a bead of sweat. Not a single complaint.
To his right, a boy with tanned skin suddenly crumpled to the ground, collapsing to his knees before lying flat, arms out, gasping.
— "STOP." barked the coach.
IlliasDavis. Tall, lean, and built like a warhorse. The kind of gym teacher pulled straight from nightmares—the type who yelled good morning and laughed when soone puked on the track.
He wore the sa navy tracksuit, sleeves rolled up over veiny, scarred arms. Arms crossed, eyes hawk-sharp—those eyes were fixed on Dante.
— "Impressive... So that’s the infamous Dante Godwin." He thought.
He hadn’t said it aloud, but it was written all over his face.
That kid wasn’t like the others. He didn’t breathe like the others. He commanded effort. And Davis, despite himself, admired that.
The students collapsed all around, panting like hunted animals.
A short blonde girl tried to maintain a shred of dignity, keeping her back straight, hands on her knees, legs shaking.
— "We haven’t.. even introduced ourselves yet, sir..." she managed between gasps, an awkward smile playing on her lips.
Davis raised an eyebrow, almost surprised anyone dared speak to him in that state.
— "I’m Illias Davis. Physical Education. And you’re gonna learn how to suffer properly."
— "Yeah, we noticed..." soone muttered.
Either he ignored it or chose to pretend.
— "Usually, I don’t deal with first-years. Not enough muscle. Too much fat. But this year, I asked to be transferred here. Why? Because I’m sick of watching House Igris be the welco mat for every other house. So if you’ve got legs, a spine, and not too much crap between your ears, I might just shape you into sothing not entirely disgraceful."
He was harsh, but there was a paternal core under it all. The kind of man who hits to teach you how to take a hit, then nods in approval when you don’t fall.
— "I want nas. And powers. Let’s see what we’re working with."
Dante’s stomach tightened. He knew this mont was coming. Always had.
Say he had a demonic familiar that devoured powers and skills ? Absolutely not!
That kind of revelation drew fear. Or curiosity. Or worse—the attention of the wrong kind of people.
One by one, they spoke.
The small blonde girl, Saya, had a power she called SpiritThread—the ability to generate threads of energy.
The more solid boy, Scott, possessed Shockwave : the more he ran, the more heat he built up, which could eventually burst explosively.
Another girl, Mina, claid to have intel-based abilities.
Then ca the loudest one : Reis. Tall, cocky, flashing a smug grin.
— "Explosion. No need to burn 20 pounds of fat to trigger a little shockwave." He said, jabbing at Scott. "Give the right setup, and I could rival an A-rank."
Dante raised an eyebrow. The guy reeked of overcompensation.
Then, his turn.
All eyes turned.
— "Dante. No particular power. I’m a martial artist and swordsman. I use basic dark energy to reinforce my attacks."
That alone stirred whispers. A swordsman ?
In a world where tech and mutation reigned, that path was considered obsolete, perhaps except in the east of the continent.
Even Reis averted his gaze, just for a second.
Davis stared at him a long while. Then motioned calmly.
— "Lotus Position. Nexus ditation. Now."
They obeyed, instinctively more than respectfully.
Seated cross-legged on the dirt, backs straight, hands resting on knees.
Davis moved among them, correcting posture, adjusting shoulders, realigning heels.
— "Breathe through your nose. Tongue pressed against the roof of your mouth. Eyes closed. Picture a spiral descending your spine. That’s where the dark energy condenses. Visualize it. Let it flow like a river."
The thod was called the ObscureKnot. A beginner’s technique to safely channel dark energy.
For Dante, it was like trying to pour an ocean into a teacup.
— "They want us to ditate like monks, even though our nervous systems have evolved past this. It’s archaic and slow." Dante thought.
But he played along. He always did.
Outside, calm. Inside ? Boredom.
Even restrained, even textbook-perfect, his aura began to rise.
Dark energy radiated off him in concentric rings. As if every particle knew its destination.
Davis noticed imdiately. Said nothing. Just stood, arms folded, watching.
He’d seen prodigies. But not control like this. This kid... he knew exactly what he was doing.
When the session ended, Davis stepped back.
— " 10 points for Igris."
No one really knew why. But they smiled anyway.
Their first points in who knows how long.
— "That’s it for today." Davis said, checking his watch.
So sighed in relief. Others collapsed into the grass.
Saya dropped to her knees, shaking.
Reis tried to act unfazed, but the tension in his jaw gave him away.
Davis carried expectation... and anticipated disappointnt.
Like he’d seen this scene a thousand tis before.
Lost kids, poorly trained, thrown into a pit and forgotten once broken.
He took a few steps forward, arms still crossed.
— "There’s sothing you need to understand, fast. You’re not elite. You’re not protected. No one’s going to give you a damn excuse to fail."
— "What you got in your legs ? ans nothing. What’s in your head ? Even less. Your powers ? Don’t care. I’ve seen guys who could warp gravity get strangled by a rope. Girls who could walk through fire collapse from stress. Ability won’t make you a survivor. Discipline will. The way you fall and get up again—that’s what counts."
He jerked his chin at the track.
— "This field? Doesn’t care if you’re noble-born or an orphan. Doesn’t care about your trauma, your dreams, your excuses. It rewards the ones who suffer in silence. Who endure and show up tomorrow. You want real strength ? Learn to suffer. Learn to shut up when it hurts. And most of all... stop begging for approval."
He fixed his gaze on Saya, whose eyes shimred with held-back tears.
Then Dante, unmoving. And finally, Reis, whose arrogant smirk had faded.
Davis backed up to the field’s edge.
— "Last thing. The world out there doesn’t need you. It wants you dead. It looks at you Igris kids like you’re mistakes. And it’s just waiting for you to prove it right. So go ahead, prove it. Or... surprise ."
He turned away.
Dante stayed put, arms folded, watching Davis’ retreating back.
There was sothing raw in those words.
Not comforting. Not motivational. But real. A mirror shoved in the face of kids shoved into a garbage-house.
No one spoke. So stared at their feet. Others into space.
Reis wiped imaginary dirt off his sleeve, pretending not to care.
— "Nowornever." Dante thought.
He stepped forward. Standing straight.
— "You think he’s wrong?"
Heads turned.
— "Coach Davis. You think he went too far? That he was harsh for nothing? He wasn’t. He just said what we all know. What you feel. Every single day you’ve been here."
He locked eyes with Saya, then Scott, then the others.
— "You know what it ans to be Igris? It ans getting trampled on and saying nothing. Walking into a room and hearing ’here cos another failure’ in their eyes. Watching other houses train with state-of-the-art weapons while we run laps on gravel hoping not to get injured."
He clenched his fists.
— "And you got used to it. That’s the worst part. You started thinking it was normal. That you deserve it. That you’re weak. That it’s just the way it is."
A beat.
— "But I’ll tell you this. This world is built to break you. To shove you in a box and leave you to rot. You’ve got two options. Stay in that box. Or kick it apart with your knees."
Saya stared, open-mouthed, breath caught.
Mina straightened.
Even Reis stopped pretending not to listen.
— " ? I’ve made my choice. I refuse to bow. And if you’re done being stepped on... then stand with ."
He paused. The looks were different now. Hopeful, hesitant and curious.
But of course, Reis had to chi in.
— "Nice speech." Dante congratulated him, clapping ironically. "Done playing savior ? What, you ran a bit without sweating and now you think you’ll save us? You might have an aura, sure. Doesn’t an you’re better. To ? You’re just a loudmouth. A fake."
He sneered.
— "You look the part of a leader. But you haven’t proved shit."
The others shifted. Dante didn’t flinch. He watched Reis with no anger.
— "You want proof? You’re not getting it. Not from . I’m not here to stroke your ego. Anyone who wants to grow? They know where to find . The rest? Keep waiting for the world to throw you a bone."
Reis snorted, turned his back.
— "Keep dreaming. They’ll see through you."
He walked off.
The others followed. At least physically.
But Dante could feel the sideways glances. Scott. Saya. Even Mina.
He stood alone on the field. Wind kicked up a swirl of dust.
He smirked faintly.
— "They’ll co back. Once they’ve tasted humiliation. Once they realize chains don’t break on their own."
And without realizing it, they’d just turned down an offer to train with the most powerful man the world had ever known.
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