Nearly two weeks had slipped by since the start of the courses at the Academy of Ocryphia. The days were a whirlwind of lectures, training sessions, and a stream of new faces that Ivan didn't care about.
But amidst the bustling routine, Ivan found his thoughts drifting elsewhere. This was the week he had planned to return to Calot, to et up with Urvan. Ludmila had already inford him that Urvan had arrived in Calot four days ago, but despite that, Ivan still lingered in Ocryphia.
It wasn't re procrastination that kept him rooted in place. He was buried under a mountain of tasks, each more pressing than the last. His main focus was acclimating to this world—learning its systems, absorbing knowledge of its history, politics, and power structures. All of this was essential if he was to succeed in his ambitious plan to spread Seraphiel's Faith.
Last week, a chance encounter had thrown him into the path of Krainel Salvador, the owner of the Book of Asmodeus. It was a eting that Adam couldn't simply dismiss. The recent 'Switch' to Adam had brought with it unforeseen complications, saddling him with even more tasks to handle.
One of Ivan's top concerns was finding a secluded place where he could conduct his experints without attracting unwanted attention. His goals were lofty, and he needed to tread carefully. He was working on sothing that could incapacitate even the strongest opponents, S-Ranks like Lunevy included. Additionally, he was bent on creating new artifacts that could serve as both defensive asures and offensive weapons, ensuring his survival in the event of a confrontation.
Switching to Adam had revealed a glaring weakness. In his current state, Adam was nowhere near powerful enough to handle the threats Ivan faced. True, Ivan could always switch to a stronger Antagonist, but the transition ca with a delay—a window of vulnerability that could easily spell his death. Strengthening Adam was the only solution, and to do that, Ivan intended to harness the power of his Stigma. But first, he needed to et up with Urvan.
Thinking through the mountain of tasks he had yet to tackle, Ivan could feel fatigue creeping into his bones. But he had set his sights high, and he was hell-bent to see his goals realized, no matter the cost.
"Good morning again, everyone."
His musings were interrupted as the class began. A stunning woman with tanned skin and dark brown hair swept into the room. She was Erika yer, the instructor for the Hand-to-Hand Combat Mastery course. But her reputation extended far beyond the Academy's walls. Everyone knew her as a high-ranking Agent of the Council of Paranormal Cases.
To most, she was a seasoned warrior and an influential agent. But to Ivan, she was sothing else entirely—Mordred's adoptive sister. She was the one who had found him when he was just a child, the one who took him in and raised him like her own brother.
Erika's presence at Ocryphia Academy was not rely a gesture of overprotectiveness toward her brother, nor was it for show. She was there on a mission, secretly investigating the Academy under the orders of the Council. Naturally, the Headmistress was aware of this arrangent, but to grant Erika more freedom of movent, she had advised her to assu the role of a teacher. It was a convenient cover, allowing her to carry out her investigations without arousing suspicion.
This was the second ti Ivan had encountered her since her appointnt. Despite her undercover mission, Erika had swiftly gained a reputation as a lively and attentive instructor. Perhaps it was because she ca from outside the Academy's rigid structure; she appeared less strict, more approachable than the other instructors.
"Alright, we'll pick up where we left off last ti," Erika said. "Pair up and begin your sparring sessions. If you have a Phantasma or any other weapon, that's fine, but rember, you must be strong even without them. Your goal is to master both offense and defense, to be able to extricate yourself from any dire situation. You are the elite of Ocryphia, the future Exorcists. Your enemies are demons—versatility is key. Understood?"
A chorus of affirmative nods followed her instructions as the students dispersed throughout the hall, choosing partners and carving out spaces to practice.
"Leon." A voice called out, breaking Ivan's train of thought. It was Aaron, waving him over.
With a resigned sigh, Ivan turned and made his way toward a quieter corner of the training hall. He had little patience for these mundane exercises. To him, they were a waste of ti. The exorcism classes at least offered so useful knowledge, but what could he possibly gain from hand-to-hand combat drills? Isaac Crawford had been a monster when it ca to martial arts, and Ivan had inherited all of his mories and skills. He was confident he could even best Erika in a fight without relying on mana.
"Please, go easy on , Milord," Aaron whispered with a playful grin as they reached a secluded spot.
Seeing Aaron's familiar, boyish smile, Ivan couldn't help but relent. Perhaps he could use this as an opportunity to teach Aaron a thing or two. If Aaron truly intended to join his side, he needed to prove himself to be more than just a top 15 student among the first-year ranks.
They reached a corner of the hall where they had enough space to move freely. Ivan stopped, standing still, waiting. Aaron, fully aware of Ivan's strength, did not take this as an insult. Instead, his expression shifted, eyes narrowing in determination. With a swift motion, he launched himself at Ivan.
Aaron's fists flew with a speed that could have made even soone like Mordred take notice. But for Ivan, they were nothing more than a flurry of predictable movents. He evaded them effortlessly, tilting his head or stepping lightly to the side, using minimal motion to dodge the onslaught. It was almost as if he were toying with Aaron, his movents fluid and unhurried.
Growing frustrated, Aaron pivoted on his heel, launching a swift roundhouse kick aid at Ivan's side. But Ivan's hand shot out with lightning precision, catching Aaron's leg mid-swing. Before Aaron could react, Ivan tightened his grip and twisted, sending Aaron tumbling unceremoniously to the ground.
Not one to give up, Aaron sprang back to his feet. This ti, he decided to unleash his mana, channeling it into his limbs. His fists blurred as he pushed himself to his limits, each punch faster than the last. Ivan arched an eyebrow,by Aaron's sudden increase in speed. Though he continued to dodge, this ti he found himself needing to take a step back as Aaron pressed his assault.
Despite the pressure, Ivan was far from worried. If he wanted to, he could end the fight in an instant. But instead, he decided to see just how far Aaron could push himself.
"Throwing mindless punches won't get you anywhere," Ivan said calmly. "Be unpredictable. Precise. Don't let your next move show on your face."
Aaron's eyes flickered with understanding, his expression tightening as he adjusted his strategy. This ti, instead of launching another barrage, he reached out, feinting, before managing to grab hold of Ivan's arm. For a brief mont, triumph flashed in his eyes, a grin spreading across his lips.
"Got you—!"
But before he could finish the thought, Ivan moved with blinding speed. Aaron's world spun as he was slamd to the ground with a force that knocked the breath out of him. He groaned, wincing in pain, only to look up and see Ivan's boot hovering above his face.
"Shit!" Aaron cursed, rolling away just in ti as Ivan's boot crashed down with a deafening thud. The impact sent a small shockwave through the training hall, drawing the attention of their peers. What had started as a simple sparring session now had the intensity of a life-or-death fists duel, and most of the students had paused their own exercises to watch.
But if Aaron noticed the crowd, he gave no sign. His focus remained locked on Ivan. With a roar, he charged again, refusing to back down.
This ti, Ivan decided to make a move of his own. His fist shot forward with such force that, for a fleeting second, Aaron felt a chill of impending death. The sheer speed and power of the punch made his instincts scream, and he nearly froze in terror. But he forced himself to react, deliberately stumbling forward to drop onto his knees, narrowly dodging the blow.
From his low position, Aaron clenched his teeth and launched an uppercut aid at Ivan's chin, pouring every ounce of his strength into it. But once again, Ivan was faster. His hand closed around Aaron's fist, stopping it dead in its tracks.
"Argh!"
Aaron grunted in pain as Ivan twisted his wrist. Unfazed by Aaron's pain, Ivan tightened his grip on Aaron's shirt. But before he could act further, Aaron suddenly coiled his legs around Ivan's neck, locking his arm in a triangle choke, catching Ivan completely off guard.
Ivan felt the pressure building around his throat, the air constricting. Yet instead of panicking, a familiar smirk spread across his lips—the sa predatory grin that Rufus Quintus Flamma, the legendary Gladiator of the Empire, would flash whenever a fight turned interesting.
A shiver of dread ran down Aaron's spine at the sight of that smile, but it was too late. With a surge of brute strength, Ivan lifted Aaron off the ground and slamd him down with bone-jarring force.
-BAM!
"Agh!" Aaron cried out as his head hit the ground, forcing him to release his hold. Seizing the opportunity, Ivan freed his arm, grabbed Aaron by the shirt once more, and hurled him across the room without a second thought.
"Kyaaa!"
The bystanders watching the fight scrambled in panic as Aaron's body crashed into them.
"Urgh… this hurts," Aaron groaned, wincing as he tried to push himself up.
"G–Get off!" Theresa, who had been knocked to the ground in the chaos, shoved Aaron away, her face flushed with embarrassnt. Mordred, on the other hand, had sidestepped the collision with ease, leaving Theresa to take the brunt of it.
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