The first week at the Academy established a brutal rhythm. Dawn training with Master Torren. Afternoon sparring sessions. Evening study. Midnight training with Norman in the forest.
Robin’s body was being pushed beyond anything he’d experienced before. But his stats were climbing.
[LEVEL 6: 555/600 EXP]
Forty-five experience points from level seven. The combination of daily quests and real combat with Norman was accelerating his growth.
The morning of the seventh day began differently. Torren assembled Class F at the training grounds with an unusual announcent.
"Today is evaluation day. Every week, you spar against classmates. I assess progress. Identify who’s improving and who’s wasting my ti." His scarred face showed no rcy. "Those who show no improvent get extra training. Those who regress get expelled."
A ripple of fear through the assembled students. Grol’s face went pale. Several others looked sick.
"Pair assignnts are posted. Find your opponent. Gear up. We begin in ten minutes."
Robin found his na on the board.
STARK, ROBIN vs. GROL
The large, scarred commoner who’d been skeptical of Robin on day one. He’d improved over the week marginally.
But he was still undisciplined. Relied too much on size and strength.
Grol saw the pairing. His expression darkened. "Great. The prodigy. This’ll be fun."
"It’s just sparring," Robin said.
"For you maybe. I fail this and I’m gone." Grol grabbed a practice sword roughly. "So don’t expect to go easy."
"I wouldn’t."
They took positions in the sparring ring. A circle of packed sand. Torren watched from the edge, arms crossed. The other students ford a loose crowd around them.
"Standard rules," Torren announced. "Fight until submission, disarmant, or I call stop. Begin!"
Grol charged imdiately. No finesse. Just raw aggression. His practice sword ca down in a heavy overhead strike.
Robin sidestepped. Minimal movent. Let Grol’s montum carry him forward.
Grol recovered quickly. Credit where due, he’d learned sothing from Torren’s drilling. His next attack was more controlled. A horizontal slash aid at Robin’s midsection.
Robin blocked. The impact jarred his arms. Grol was strong. Much stronger than Robin.
Can’t trade power. Have to be smarter.
Grol pressed the attack. A series of heavy strikes. Each one powerful enough to end the fight if it connected cleanly.
Robin gave ground. Dodged more than blocked. Conserved energy. Let Grol exhaust himself.
He’s getting frustrated.
Grol’s strikes beca wilder. Desperation creeping in. He needed to win. Needed to prove himself.
Robin waited for the opening. It ca when Grol overcommitted to a thrust. Put too much weight forward. Left himself exposed.
Robin sidestepped. Let the thrust pass harmlessly. Then struck a quick tap to Grol’s extended wrist.
Not hard. Just precise. Right on the nerve cluster.
Grol’s hand spasd. The practice sword fell from numb fingers.
"Disarmant. Match to Stark," Torren announced.
Grol stared at his hand. Flexed his fingers. "What did you do?"
"Nerve strike. Temporary." Robin picked up Grol’s sword. Handed it back. "Your grip will return in a minute."
Grol took the sword with his other hand. His expression was frustration mixed with grudging respect. "You’ve been holding back. This whole week."
"Everyone holds back in training."
"Not like that. You could’ve ended it in seconds." Grol rubbed his wrist. "Why didn’t you?"
Robin didn’t answer. Moved to the edge of the ring.
Because drawing too much attention is dangerous. Because I need to seem competent but not exceptional. Because mysteries create opportunities.
The sparring continued. Other matches. So were close. Most were one-sided. Class F was still finding its level.
Norman’s match was different.
He faced another commoner. a larger boy with decent technique. The match began normally. Probing strikes. Testing defenses.
Then Norman’s eyes flashed gold. Just for a mont. And his movents changed.
The beast is leaking through.
His strikes beca faster. More savage. His opponent struggled to keep up. Within thirty seconds, Norman had him disard and on the ground.
But Robin saw what others missed. Norman’s control was slipping. His breathing was irregular. His hands trembled slightly as he stepped back.
He’s fighting himself as much as his opponent. The beast wants out.
Torren saw it too. His eyes narrowed as he watched Norman. But he said nothing.
The morning session concluded. Torren gathered the class.
"Assessnts complete. Most of you showed improvent. Marginal, but improvent." He pulled out a list. "Three of you are being transferred. Your progress is sufficient for Class D."
Three nas called. Relief on those faces. They were escaping Class F.
"The rest of you remain. So showed significant improvent." Torren’s gaze settled on Robin. "Stark. Your technique continues to impress. But you’re still physically weak. That needs to change."
"Yes, sir."
"Grey. Your aggression is an asset but also a liability. Learn control or you’ll hurt soone eventually."
Norman nodded. "Yes, sir."
The class was dismissed. Fourteen students remained now. Less than two-thirds of the original number.
Robin was heading toward the dormitory when Torren called out.
"Stark. My office. Now."
Robin changed direction. Followed Torren to his small office near the training grounds.
Inside, Torren closed the door. Gestured to a chair.
"Sit."
Robin sat.
Torren remained standing. Arms crossed. "You’re holding back."
Robin said nothing.
"I’ve been training students for fifteen years. I know when soone is showing their full capability and when they’re sandbagging." Torren leaned against his desk.
"Your match with Grol. You could’ve ended it in the first exchange. Instead, you dragged it out. Made it look competitive."
"I didn’t want to embarrass him."
"Bullshit. You didn’t want to reveal your true level." Torren’s scarred face was unreadable. "Why?"
Robin considered his response. Honesty versus deception.
"Because being underestimated is an advantage," he said finally.
Torren was silent for a mont. Then he laughed. A short, harsh sound. "Smart. Tactical thinking. You understand that appearing weak can be a weapon."
"Yes, sir."
"But understand this, I need to know your actual capabilities. I want full effort. No holding back. No hiding. Understood?"
"Yes, sir."
"Dismissed."
Robin returned to the dormitory. His mind was processing the conversation.
Torren knows I’m hiding sothing. But he’s giving space to do it. Why?
Because he’s testing . Seeing how I respond to pressure. How I manage information.
The afternoon session was different. Instead of sparring, Torren had them working on the obstacle course.
"Combat isn’t just fighting. It’s mobility. Agility. Spatial awareness." He gestured to the weathered course. "You’ll run this weekly. Tis will be recorded. Improvent is mandatory."
The course was brutal. Climbing walls. Crawling under obstacles. Rope swings. Balance beams. All designed to test physical capability and ntal toughness.
Robin’s improved stats helped. His eight agility and eight endurance made movents that would’ve been impossible weeks ago rely difficult.
He completed the course in a respectable ti. Not the fastest, that was Norman, whose beast-enhanced physique made him naturally suited for this. But solid middle of the pack.
Evening ca. Dinner. Study ti. Then bed.
But at midnight, Robin slipped out again. t Norman at the eastern gate.
Their nightly training sessions were becoming more intense. Norman pushed harder each ti. Testing limits. Building strength through real combat.
Tonight, they ventured deeper into the forest. Found a clearing where Norman had been stockpiling equipnt, heavier practice weapons, weighted vests, resistance bands.
"Strength training," Norman explained. "Your technique is perfect but your body can’t execute it properly. We fix that."
The next two hours were agony. Weighted exercises. Resistance drills. Combat with heavy weapons.
Norman didn’t hold back. Every strike was full force. Every drill pushed to failure.
"Again!"
"Faster!"
"Your form is breaking down. Maintain it!"
Robin endured. His muscles scread. His stamina depleted. But he pushed through.
[STRENGTH TRAINING COMPLETE]
[ 5 STR]
[ENDURANCE TRAINING COMPLETE]
[ 5 END]
The system tracked everything. Quantified his suffering into asurable growth.
They finished as dawn threatened. Returned to the Academy separately. Robin slipped into his bunk just as the morning bell rang.
No sleep. But no choice.
This is the price. Push beyond limits. Suffer now to grow stronger.
The other students groaned awake. Robin rose with them. Showed no signs of exhaustion despite the sleepless night.
Grol noticed. "You look... fine. How?"
"Practice."
"Practice. Right." Grol shook his head. "You’re insane, Stark. But I’m starting to think that’s an asset here."
Robin said nothing. Just prepared for another day.
Another day of hiding his true capabilities during official training while pushing limits in secret.
Another day of building strength while appearing adequately competent.
Another day closer to becoming sothing the Academy and the Duke would never see coming.
Robin completed his morning routine. Push-ups. Planks. Weapon forms.
[DAILY QUEST COMPLETE]
[ 50 EXP]
[LEVEL UP! YOU ARE NOW LEVEL 7]
The warmth flooded his body. Stronger now. Tangibly stronger.
┏━━━━━━━[ Host Profile ]━━━━━━━┓
│ Na: Robin Stark
│ Level: 7
│ EXP: 5/700
│
│ Core Attributes:
│ STR Strength 15
│ AGI Agility 9
│ END Endurance 14
│ DEX Dexterity 10
│
│ HP: 74/74
│ Stamina: 55/55
│ Mana: 44/115
┗━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┛
Level seven. Double-digit dexterity. His mana had increased but still pathetically low, but climbing toward the fifty needed for Ti Echo.
Six more points. One or two more levels and I can use it.
Robin smiled slightly.
Week one complete.
Many more to go.
And every single one would make him stronger.
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