The day following the induction ceremony marked the beginning of classes at the academy. The students were sorted into their respective classes based on their talent grades. The four A-grade students were given a particular class tailored to their exceptional abilities. Among the B grade students, ten divisions were established, with the top two classes reserved for the most advanced B grade talents, while the remaining classes were assigned according to ranking. Toby, being among the lower-ranked B grade students, found himself in a class comprising twenty-seven students.
For the vast group of over six hundred C grade students, ten classrooms were designated, with students placed according to their respective talent levels. Among them, Yuvan occupied a spot in the lowest-ranked C grade class, which consisted of one hundred forty-eight students. The D grade students, numbering in the hundreds were put in a single class without consideration for their ranks. These classes were intended for students with seemingly limited potential, destined to potentially join the academy's labour force, provided they managed to survive the challenges that lay ahead.
As Yuvan entered the classroom, he was met with a crowded space where students had taken their seats based on their talent ranks. Upon his arrival, a few students began to taunt him.
“Go away; you don’t belong here!”
“You're a D grade, Mope the class and go back!”
“You don’t belong here, freak!”
However, the jeering came to a halt when Irene, the class representative, stepped in. Her authoritative voice silenced the crowd.
"Enough, all of you! Renfield has already staked his claim on him; you don't want to cross paths with that psycho when he comes looking." Irene's words brought about a sudden silence and a sense of caution among the students.
"Go ahead, find your seat and let the class proceed," Irene instructed Yuvan. Her status as the highest-ranked student in the class solidified her role as the class representative.
Yuvan made his way to a desk at the back of the room. There were chuckles and laughter as he walked, but the amusement quickly faded as they observed his detached demeanour. Although there seemed to be something written on his desk, a potential mocking message, his classmates were unaware that Yuvan couldn't read or write. Even if he could, their attempts to provoke a reaction from him would have been in vain.
An instructor entered the classroom and greeted the students, "Hello everyone, I am Darryl Anton Muller, and I will be your mentor for this year, or until you reach the first chakra." He began his speech with a seemingly insincere attempt at motivation, sharing anecdotes about the legendary third Sword Saint Muller who defied the odds as a low-grade talent to achieve the extraordinary through relentless effort. "You all have the potential to follow in his footsteps…" The instructor continued his monologue about Muller's achievements when suddenly, a voice interrupted him from the back of the room.
"Third Sword Saint? Wasn't Muller a higher B grade talent to begin with? How can anyone consider him a low-grade talent? Isn't that insulting?" The interruption came from a voice in the back of the room.
The instructor's annoyance was evident, and his prepared speech lost its momentum. He muttered to himself, "These low-grade, ungrateful students aren't worthy of my teachings. They should be showing more respect towards me, considering I've lowered myself to instruct a D grade among them. Just two more years, and I'll finally be promoted. Then I can teach top-quality students who will make a name for themselves, and I can bask in their glory. It's too much to expect anything from this bunch."
Regaining his composure, the instructor turned his attention back to the student who had interrupted him and retorted, "Insult? Do you even comprehend the gravity of that word? It's an insult for someone of my calibre to be wasting their time teaching the likes of you."
He continued, "Comparatively, a B grade is lower than an A grade. Look through annals of history, and you'll find hardly anyone, except Muller, who with his B grade talent has become the hero of his era. Becoming a Sword Saint is an impossible dream even for an A grade talent, let alone a B grader."
"Now, listen carefully. You should feel honoured to have a mentor whose ancestor, a lower grade talent, managed to rise above everyone and become a Sword Saint," he declared.
"Any questions?" he inquired. As Irene raised her hand, he brushed it aside with a dismissive gesture, saying, "Alright, let's move on." Throughout the year, you will gain an introduction to various paths that you can embark upon in your cultivation journey. This will help you become acquainted with the options available and enable you to choose one or two paths that align with your preferences. You'll encounter fundamental elemental paths like earth, water, air, and fire, as well as derived paths like lightning, sound, and strength. Moreover, you'll explore more intricate avenues such as transformation, formation, and wisdom paths. Additionally, there are paths from ancient times that have been forgotten, forbidden demonic paths, and potential paths that innovative geniuses of the upcoming generation might pave. However, let me offer a suggestion: for most of you, it would be prudent to focus on the earth path. It exhibits the highest compatibility during the initial stage. Whether it truly suits your abilities or not, pursuing the earth path increases your chances of progressing to the second chakra, though that likelihood remains quite faint. That way, you might qualify to become common guards in the Order, Ku...Ku...Ku," he concluded, breaking into a mocking laugh while momentarily obscuring his face.
Interrupting again, a boy sarcastically asked, "So, what about us becoming like Muller?"
Darryl snapped back, "How dare you compare yourselves to Sword Saint Muller in my presence? Know your place, boy!"
Glancing at the students, he inquired, "Any other questions?" This time, no hands were raised. "No questions? What a sorry bunch you are. You'll each be given three mana stones per day for cultivation or whatever you want to waste them on." He thought to himself, "I don't understand why the academy is squandering its precious resources on these students."
As the class concluded, students left with a sense of the challenging journey that lay ahead. They couldn't help but wonder how much tougher the situation might be for the D grade students. Meanwhile, Darryl couldn't help but pity the instructor who had to handle the D grade class.
The atmosphere in the class for B grade talents was notably different. Even though it was a class for the lower echelons of the B grade category, the students felt a sense of contentment and pride in their achievement. They held the belief that a B grade talent remained as such, regardless of the specific class designation. This realization of their potential had instilled a newfound positivity among them, and they embraced the opportunity with enthusiasm. Toby was among these determined individuals. He felt a strong sense of purpose, fuelled by the knowledge that he had taken significant strides towards shaping a successful future. Determined not to squander any moment, he quickly began to establish connections and friendships with his fellow classmates. Earning their attention proved effortless, especially given his proximity to the renowned Ethan. Toby recognized the importance of networking and understood that even associations with those considered less accomplished could prove beneficial in the long run. This pragmatic perspective guided his interactions with his newfound friends.
Being assigned to a class for B grade talents and learning about the daily allocation of ten mana crystals uplifted Toby's spirits. However, his elation was short-lived as he considered Yuvan's potential presence and dependency. An internal dilemma arose, and Toby contemplated ways to either rid himself of Yuvan's company or compel him to dissolve their contract.
But how to proceed?
In a different scenario, handling such a situation would have been straightforward for Toby. Yet, Yuvan's unique disposition and unwavering determination, showcased during the induction ceremony, posed a challenge. Moreover, Yuvan's intellect and competence seemed on par, if not superior, to Toby's own abilities. It was ironic that, with a higher grade of talent, Yuvan could have become a legendary figure on the continent. His audacious self-assuredness rivalled that of the esteemed Sword Saint.
“Yuvan had experienced life-threatening situations, it might have fostered maturity and composure in him, enabling him to make level-headed choices under duress.” Toby grappled with the question of how to manage someone of Yuvan's calibre and resilience.
As Toby continued pondering a strategy, he eventually arrived at his room, only to discover Yuvan in a battered and wounded state. Although Toby had anticipated this outcome, witnessing Yuvan's condition shattered the invincible image he had held of him. A sense of compassion overcame Toby, eroding any traces of disdain he might have felt.
"Who did this to you?" Toby inquired, although he could easily deduce the answer.
"Lucas and his followers," Yuvan responded, tending to his injuries with the application of medicinal treatments.
Approaching Yuvan, Toby gently took the medicines from his hands, and Yuvan offered no resistance, allowing Toby to administer the treatment. As Toby witnessed Yuvan's willingness to cooperate, a fleeting thought crossed his mind—whether he should address Yuvan with a title of respect like "Lord." However, he quickly discarded the idea in favour of a more casual approach given the current circumstances. "Don't worry, Ethan, I will protect you," Toby assured him, his voice brimming with confidence. The unexpected address caused Yuvan to raise an intrigued eyebrow.
Toby's voice carried a resolute tone as he continued, "I've made up my mind to join Henry's faction. He's known for his virtue and sincerity, and once I'm part of his group, I'll make sure you're protected from Lucas and his pack. I'll arrange for us to be in neighbouring rooms; being a B grade talent comes with better accommodations."
Observing Yuvan's lack of objection, Toby's confidence grew, and he decided to take his proposition a step further. "Before I do that, though, I'll need you to nullify our current bond. Henry won't allow me in his faction while I'm already bound to someone else. So, if you could…"
Before Toby could complete his sentence, Yuvan interjected, "Is there a quicker way to enhance one's physical strength?"
Despite Toby feeling a tad annoyed by Yuvan's persistent attitude, he replied, "Yes, there is a method – by consuming 'deha samshodhana aushada' or body refining pills. However, they wouldn't be of any use to you. These pills are typically taken during childhood, and they're a one-time use item. There's no effect on the body if used a second time. There are other pills available, but they only prove beneficial after you've reached the first chakra."
Is there any specific requirement for taking the deha samshodhana aushada?
No, there isn't. Given that you've previously taken the deha samshodhana aushada, or body refining pill, at birth. Why are you asking me these questions? Focus on what's important right now.
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Can you acquire one for me?
"Shh! This stubbornness," Toby thought, feeling a bit ignored by Yuvan once again. Despite that, he replied, "The body refining pill? Yes, I can, but it will cost you two hundred mana stones. But why do you need it?"
How many mana stones do you currently possess?
Toby wasn't too pleased with the direction this conversation was taking. "I have only about forty mana stones left on me. I've spent the rest gathering information and making connections. Don't ask for my leftovers."
Yuvan pondered for a moment and then said, "I'll provide the remaining stones tomorrow. Be ready to obtain it then."
If you can gather the rest of the stones so quickly, then why not all two hundred of them? The difference between one hundred sixty and two hundred mana stones isn't that significant. I'm not handing over my money to you.
"SIT DOWN!" Yuvan's command was firm.
Toby complied reluctantly.
"Now, roll on the ground!" Yuvan ordered.
Toby felt humiliated but begrudgingly followed the command. He was growing more resentful towards Yuvan for forcing him to act against his will. Toby had meant what he said about protecting Yuvan, but he now felt that Yuvan was unappreciative of his efforts. He silently vowed to himself that he would seek revenge for this humiliation, tenfold.
But Yuvan wasn't done. "Bark like a dog!" he commanded once more.
Toby's eyes flashed with anger; it was only now that he fully grasped Yuvan's intentions. He realized what Yuvan was trying to convey. "Woof... woof... woof," Toby barked.
"Whose dog are you?"
"Yours, Sire.".
"Good boy," Yuvan remarked, patting Toby's head condescendingly. "And Toby, if you ever conspire against me and decide to put your schemes into action, do me a favour— just end your own life. Understood, boy?"
Toby nodded, his eyes cast downward.
"Also, one last thing," Yuvan continued, "I will bring one hundred fifty mana stones tomorrow. You can add the rest of the forty you have and the ten you'll be getting tomorrow. Meet me in front of the library after class."
Toby nodded again, a mixture of resentment and submission in his expression.
Yuvan returned to his meditation, finding a comfortable seated position and straightening his back. He focused on controlling his breath to enhance his concentration. Adopting the dhyana mudra with his hands (touching his thumb with his index finger), he honed in on the rhythm of his inhales and exhales. Despite his efforts, certain persistent thoughts continued to linger in his mind. Instead of pushing them away, he allowed them to play out.
In the mental scene, Lucas and his group confronted Yuvan, their hostile intentions unmistakable. Yuvan initially attempted to dismiss them, but they clung to him like relentless predators. Although he possessed the capability to confront them, he chose instead to endure the assault passively, akin to a lifeless log. Yuvan contemplated the wisdom of this choice. Antagonizing an individual with Lucas's volatile temperament was undoubtedly ill-advised; evading such situations was the optimal course of action, and if evasion proved impossible, eliminating the threat altogether was the only viable alternative.
Yet, Lucas was no ordinary adversary—he was an A-grade talent, a prized asset of the academy, shielded by an assigned instructor who operated from the shadows, ensuring Lucas's protection and advancement. This elevated status underscored the perilous nature of dealing with him.
Psychopaths like Lucas derive satisfaction from the reactions of their victims; their perverse enjoyment hinges on witnessing their targets crumble, scream, and weep. Lucas sought to elicit responses that fed his sadistic desires, seeking the thrill of tormenting a living being rather than a lifeless entity. Yuvan's unresponsive stance had thwarted this perverse satisfaction, leaving Lucas frustrated and eager to escalate the situation. In a bid to restore his desired dynamic, Lucas ordered his cronies to pummel Yuvan until exhaustion took hold.
Yuvan fully understood the temporary reprieve he was granted—Lucas and his cohorts would likely return after their short-lived amusement had waned. With this realization firmly settled in his mind, Yuvan found his mental landscape clearing. His focus shifted entirely to the dormant energy within him, his determination unwavering. Gradually, he felt his energy stirring, like a slumbering creature slowly rousing from its sleep. Yuvan remained fixed on this internal awakening, dedicating himself wholeheartedly to the task until his capacity to do so reached its limit.
In the arid expanse beyond the academy's walls, a relentless battle raged on.
"You certainly surpass the tales that circulate, Commander," grudgingly acknowledged the Asura captain as he was pushed further on the defensive. "It appears my demise will be a wretched one unless I go all in."
Amidst the tumultuous combat against the Asuras, the Celestial Hawk commander stood out, exerting his dominance over the outnumbered enemies. Amidst the chaos, Darryl found himself grappling with a sense of helplessness. It had taken them days of relentless pursuit to uncover the Asuras' hidden sanctuary within a cavern. Driven by visions of honour and rewards, the Celestial Hawks had surged forth to confront the Asuras who had taken hostages. However, the situation had taken an unexpected turn— the Asuras, far more formidable than anticipated, posed a grave threat. Had it not been for the strategic brilliance and unwavering prowess of their Commander, the Celestial Hawks would have likely met their doom.
Agustin, the indomitable figure of the Celestial Hawk forces, masterfully kept the remaining Asuras at bay while simultaneously subduing their captain. The Asuras were mindful of their own peril, understanding that they could not fully unleash their power upon the Celestial Hawks while confronting the formidable force represented by Agustin.
"This seems to be the end of my road," the Asura captain muttered, his steps retreating as he concentrated his mana.
“You think, you can finish me off by mana explosion?” Agustin quipped, a hint of sarcasm lacing his words.
Agustin's remark earned a scoff from the captain. "No, I don't believe I can obliterate you with a mana explosion. But your comrades? That, I am quite certain of."
"Form up behind me!" Agustin's powerful voice resonated across the battlefield, urgently rallying his allies.
But the ominous words of the Asura captain proved prophetic, as realization dawned too late.
"No!" A collective cry of desperation rang out.
Then, with a deafening roar and a blinding burst of energy, chaos erupted in a cataclysmic explosion.
Using his bhūmipada (earth path) tantra, Agustin swiftly constructed multiple layers of mana-infused walls, forming a protective barrier in front of him. He layered sand walls at the forefront, followed by sturdy stone walls in the middle, and resilient iron walls closest to his position. Meanwhile, behind Agustin, Darryl attempted to reach out to Heather, their fingers almost touching, when the impending explosion engulfed them all.
The Asura captain detonated with a deafening roar, triggering a colossal blast that shattered the cave and obliterated the defensive barriers, leaving behind only a searing, molten iron wall. Amidst the settling dust and debris, Agustin swiftly unsheathed his sword and decisively severed Darryl's hand, which had been trapped in the explosion's aftermath.
"Quickly, evacuate the cave," Agustin ordered, his tone urgent. The Asura was a practitioner of the viṣadapada (poison path), he foresaw the impending effect of toxic fumes that would fill the cave and corrode everything within.
"But, sir, what about Heather?" Darryl's voice wavered, his concern for their comrade evident.
"I will retrieve his body. Leave before the poison engulfs us," Agustin replied resolutely, his mind already set on the course of action.
"Sir, you mean…?" Darryl's voice trailed off, realization dawning upon him.
"Not now! Time is of the essence," Agustin snapped, urgency lacing his words.
Darryl, weakened from his injuries and the shock of losing his hand, fought to remain conscious. Desperation clawed at him, compelling him to scream in a desperate attempt to awaken himself from this nightmarish ordeal.
In a sudden and jarring moment, Darryl's anguished scream shattered the silence of his dreams. His body convulsed, and he shot upright on a stretcher, his eyes wide with terror and confusion. As his consciousness fully returned, he found himself lying in a vulnerable position, his body stretched out under the expanse of an endless open sky. The stark reality of his surroundings took hold, and he gasped as he processed the shock of it all.
His gaze remained fixed on the vast heavens above, a sky that seemed so distant yet offered no solace. The world around him felt surreal, as if he had been thrust into a realm of unrelenting torment. Waves of searing agony radiated from his arm, each pulse a cruel reminder of the ordeal he had endured. Instinctively, his good hand twitched, a feeble attempt to soothe the pain coursing through his very being.
Desperation compelled him to reach for the source of his suffering, his fingers groping through the air in search of his missing limb. But reality struck him with an unyielding blow as his quest met emptiness—his hand never found its mark. A chilling realization seized him, freezing his movements and numbing his senses. His hand was gone, severed by the unforgiving explosion that had torn through his existence.
Darryl's heart raced, the rush of blood echoing in his ears as the truth settled in. The agony that clawed at his body was dwarfed by the anguish that gripped his soul. A rush of emotions surged within him—grief, anger, and a crushing sense of loss. The brutality of his circumstances bore down upon him like an insurmountable weight, threatening to crush his spirit.
As the dust of his nightmare cleared, Darryl was left in the wake of its devastation. The vast sky remained unchanged, indifferent to his suffering. His body trembled with a mixture of pain and emotion, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. He had been violently ripped from the sanctuary of his dreams and thrust back into a harsh reality—one where his hand was forever absent, and his world had been forever altered.
"Are you alright?" A concerned Alan trailed behind, his footsteps heavy as he dragged a stretcher bearing a mummified body.
Darryl's gaze shifted from the expanse of the sky to Alan's face, his voice tinged with urgency, "Where are we now? When will we reach our clan?" The ache in his heart yearned for the familiar embrace of his village, a place where he could lay his sorrows to rest.
"Not yet, Darryl. We're still on the mission," Alan's response was matter-of-fact, his words carrying a weight that echoed the gravity of their situation.
"Why?" Darryl's frustration began to bubble, the flames of anger flickering to life within him.
"Commander's decision," Alan's voice held a touch of resignation.
A surge of fiery emotion coursed through Darryl's veins, igniting his anger like a blaze in the desert. His voice rose, carrying his words across the windswept landscape for all to hear, "Wasn't the loss of our comrade enough? Haven't we given enough for our clan's glory? We were tasked with finding the disturbance, and we've done just that. We've put an end to the disturbance, even brought down the Asura captain. But is that not enough for our Commander? Must we now drag our fallen comrade's body through this forsaken desert, all for duty and honour? What honour remains if we deny his grieving parents the chance to bid their final farewell?"
His outburst echoed through the dry air, a bitter proclamation of his frustration and despair. While the sentiments resonated with his comrades, Alan attempted to interject, his voice a calming force, "Darryl, you need—"
Alan stepped forward, his voice carrying a note of concern, "Darryl, you need—" However, his attempt to offer solace was halted by Agustin's raised hand.
Darryl's attention shifted from Alan to their leader, Agustin, whose expression was a mix of sternness and empathy. Agustin's voice carried a weight of remorse and understanding as he addressed Darryl, "Darryl, trust me when I say that I understand the turmoil you're grappling with. In fact, I share your sentiments entirely. Heather's tragic demise rests heavily upon my shoulders, and I carry the burden of his loss just as deeply as you do."
Darryl's voice was quick to intervene, a touch of urgency lacing his words, "Commander, I never meant to suggest Heather's death was your fault. I was—"
The Commander's voice, firm and unyielding, cut through, "Darryl, let me finish."
Darryl held his retort as Agustin, their leader, continued, "As your Commander, I bear the responsibility for your safety in combat. I must be held accountable for the loss of Heather and your arm. I underestimated the enemy's resolve to sacrifice themselves."
He continued, acknowledging Darryl's pain, "I understand your desire to put this behind us. But I implore you to wait a little longer. We must await word from the academy, for our perspective on the ground may reveal truths unseen. Something sinister lurks beneath the surface—our discovery of the Asura's hideout, their calculated response to our attack, and their willingness to embrace death all point to a larger scheme. None wishes to avoid a wild goose chase more than I, for I shudder to contemplate the alternative."
The desert winds carried his words away, leaving the group in a tense silence. The truth of Agustin's words hung in the air, a reminder that there was more to their mission than met the eye. The burden of uncertainty pressed upon them, challenging their resolve and testing the limits of their loyalty.
"Commander, there are individuals approaching us rapidly from a distance. They appear formidable. Should we assume a defensive formation?" Gwen inquired.
"No need. Hold your positions. If they were hostile, they would have concealed their presence to ambush us," Agustin replied.
The newcomers soon arrived, their leader addressing the Celestial Hawks mockingly, struggling to recall their clan's name. "I presume you're from that bird clan, am I correct? What was it again, Karl?" the leader sneered.
"It's the Celestial Hawks, sir," Karl promptly answered.
"I don't recall a Super clan by the name Celestial Hawks," the leader remarked.
"They're not a Super clan, sir. They're a first-grade clan," Karl clarified.
"A first-grade clan? When did the academy start assigning missions to a mere first-grade clan?" the leader questioned.
"Unless someone engaged in some bootlicking, sir," Karl responded.
"Enough!" Agustin intervened, stepping forward. "We're here on official business from the academy, not for squabbling."
"Oh, how terrifying," Alex, the leader, commented sarcastically.
"The first-grade clan member is correct. Our focus should be on the mission," Karl added.
"Indeed, he is right Karl. Let's concentrate on the task at hand," Alex acknowledged, turning his attention to Agustin. "Habeas corpus?"
"There are no remains left. As I mentioned in my report, the enemy was a viṣadapada (poison path) practitioner. His core detonation released highly corrosive mana particles, eroding the cave and its contents," Agustin explained.
"Do you expect us to accept your words unquestioningly? What proof supports your claims?" Alex sceptically inquired.
"Can't you see our comrade?" Darryl retorted, clutching his bandaged arm.
"Does this mummy signify anything? Perhaps he perished from heatstroke, for all I care. Maybe I should perform an autopsy before filing my report. I'm feeling rather benevolent today," Alex responded, his tone dripping with cynicism.
"You dare!" Darryl's voice reverberated.
"I do. And if you dare to raise your voice again, you'll leave in body bags, just like your friend," Alex warned, glancing at Agustin. "Put a leash on your mutt!"
"Karl, examine the body," Alex ordered. Karl approached the mummified form, he flinched and turned towards the master at the fourth chakra, displaying his murderous intent.
"What is the meaning of this?" Alex erupted. "Do you intend to spark a clan war?"
"In honour of my fallen comrade, I will. If there's nothing else, we shall depart. Write whatever you wish in your report," Agustin declared before leading his clan members away.
"Why did you let them leave like that, Alex?" Karl demanded angrily as the Celestial Hawks retreated.
SLAP!
"Know your place, DOG! Perhaps I should leash my hound before needing to control someone else," Alex rebuked.
"I apologize, sir. The humiliation and disrespect towards our clan overwhelmed me," Karl admitted.
"I understand, Karl. Engaging him in combat would have meant our demise," Alex conceded.
"Are you implying he's as strong as you, sir?" Karl questioned.
"I'm reluctant to admit it, but he might be even stronger," Alex reluctantly acknowledged.
"How can that be? He's merely a commander from first-grade clan," Karl pondered.
"I share your wonderment. Investigate his background thoroughly, Karl. I want to uncover the story behind Agustin Verne," Alex instructed.
"Understood, sir."
"In the meantime, compose a report for the Order, labelling the Celestial Hawks as the most masterful liars on the planet."