Nobody liked Cassius Mendoza, not his students, not even some of the teachers. As if in response to this fact, the entrance to his office was not inside the academy but somewhat to the far right of the palace, inside a separate, square building.

Of course, the most likely reason for the separation was due to the huge door needed for the entrance. As always, Michael found it quite intimidating.

The boy clenched his fists and pushed the door open. He was wearing chainmail underneath his clothes and the gauntlets from Trident’s armory, although he knew they would most likely be banned.

When the door closed behind him, the gloves disappeared, and the boy found himself at the bottom of a tall, steep mountain. There were no trees on this mountain, just muddy ground in the lower portion, sharp rocks in the middle, and snow near the top. The top itself was flat, paved with flat stones, and seemed to host a building and several other facilities.

Without hesitation, Michael started climbing. His feet plunged deep into the mud, draining his energy and testing his resolve. He slipped often, falling face first every single time to the point where his entire body became covered in mud.

Halfway through the bottom layer of the mountain, one of his shoes slipped out of his foot, and the earth somehow swallowed it whole. Near the end of the bottom layer, the boy lost his other shoe too.

‘How long has it been?’ The boy touched his chin, feeling the small prickles of a growing beard. The distance towards the bottom was huge, surely not something he could have crossed in a day.

‘Hmph, at least I’m not hungry.’

Michael continued climbing. The next section was covered with razor-sharp stones of all sizes. He could not possibly avoid them all, and without his shoes, his feet started bleeding from the first few steps.

Halfway through, he lost so much blood that his head felt light. His hands, feet, elbows, and knees were all covered in small cuts with tiny pebbles embedded into them.

‘Damnit.’ Michael pressed on. Near the end of the middle portion, he bit his lip and realized his mustache and beard had grown.

‘Don’t think... A brawler must always go forward.’

He pushed his bleeding, shoeless feet into the snow and started climbing the final portion. After just a few steps, his knees buckled and he dropped on all fours. Even so, he kept climbing the final bit of the mountain.

As his mind wavered in and out of unconsciousness, his past decisions flashed within his mind. ‘I picked brawling over swordsmanship, now it’s too late to go back. I need to make this work. I have to get stronger.’

He suddenly remembered the image of the unconscious Natalie in Annie’s arms. He then remembered Yeren, who he admired and who was a much stronger brawler than he was, dying against a bunch of clams.

‘I need to get stronger... Stronger than anyone.’ The boy’s frozen palm touched the top of the mountain. Finally seeing the platform, he pushed through excruciating pain and slowly picked himself up.

His limbs were blue and he could no longer feel them. His body shook uncontrollably and hypothermia set in. Just as he had reached his goal, every bit of strength left him and Michael's eyes started closing.

And then, they opened. Michael got up and inspected his body.

A moment ago he had been on the brink of death, and now he was perfectly fine. The pain was gone, the frostbites disappeared, his body felt warm, and once he willed it, Michael could easily move his limbs.

The teen looked back and no longer saw a mountain, only dirt where the stone platform ended and a tall door about 30 feet further back. Within these 30 feet, several teen giants were walking in slow motion with scrunched up faces and sweat pouring out of their pores.

“So, you’ve made it.”

Michael turned and saw the examiner from the first exam resting his back on a huge stone pillar. The giant had thick brows and was clean shaven. He wore ironed velvet pants and a clean, white shirt that was slightly unbuttoned at the top revealing an extremely hairy chest. His fists however were covered in blisters and there were no shoes on his feet.

“Teacher, I wish to take the third exam,” Michael kneeled.

“Why? You’re a human. Your kind is small and weak. Without your weapons, you’re useless.”

“I want to become strong without relying on weapons. I want my fists to be as strong as yours.”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Bah,” the giant frowned. “That will never happen, boy. Nobody is stronger than Casius Mendoza!”

Cassius punched the pillar behind him and smashed it to pieces. He then stomped the ground and another stone pillar appeared in its place.

“If you want to learn under me, then break this stone like I did with your bare hands.”

Mendoza’s smirk was obvious, but Michael agreed nonetheless. He took off his gauntlets and readied his stance.

‘General Gryla is the strongest brawler.’ Michael took a deep breath of five. ‘You are just a stepping stone.’ He punched the rock with perfect form, perfect breathing, and all of his strength.

Small cracks appeared at the point of impact. Cassius raised his eyebrows for a moment, but when the cracks stopped growing past half a dozen inches, he burst into laughter.

“See? Humans are not cut out for this. Go home, little man. Take a blacksmithing class and make me some armor. Your tiny hands are perfect for it.”

Michael let out a guttural growl and punched the stone again and again until his fists were bleeding and the rock was destroyed.

“Useless. If you can’t break it in one hit, you fail, kid.”

‘Fuck off.’ Michael turned his back. “I beat three giants during the first exam.”

“Bah, those weaklings cannot call themselves that. Yeren Monthos was a giant. How in Gryla’s name he died while you lived is something I will never understand. If I find out there was foul play…”

Unwilling to listen to more of Cassius’ ramble, Michael grabbed his gauntlets and walked towards the door. Suddenly, the scene in front of him changed and he found himself in the snow near the top of the mountain.

‘Perfect.’ The boy descended like he climbed, through snow, spikes, and mud. Every new injury brought a grin to his face. He relished in the pain as it fueled his anger. ‘Fuck it all to hell! This academy, my Goddamn future, these useless fists, my pathetic body, …’

On and on he went until he reached the bottom. After closing the giant door behind him, he turned around and punched it. The familiar pain was comforting, so he punched it again and again until his bones threatened to break.

“You ok, Michael?”

The fuming brawler turned his head and saw a familiar, green haired boy.

“Peachy.” He brushed past Finn and walked towards the gates.

“Hey!”

Michael did not listen.

"Wait!"

Michael reached the academy's gates and tried to push them open.

Suddenly, he sensed danger, so he turned around and raised his arm. A second later, Finn’s leg slammed into it.

“Let’s talk.”

“I’m not in the mood.”

“Don’t care.”

“Fuck off.” Michael turned to leave and Finn tried to punch him. Annoyed, Michael grabbed his arm and slammed the quarter elf to the ground.

“What the hell are you doing!?”

Finn shrugged. “You’re like a stubborn mule. How else am I supposed to get through to you?” He got up and attacked once again. However, without his knives or his bow, he was easy work for the brawler.

Michael punched his gut several times, swept his feet and almost broke his left arm.

“Get lost, Finn!”

“Not until you tell me what happened.”

Finn pushed his body to the limit and tried to tackle the boy to the ground. However, Michael was taller and stronger, so he tripped and threw him on his ass instead.

“See? Not even you can do shit against a stronger opponent.”

“Sure I can.” Finn grabbed some dirt and threw it into Michael’s eyes. He then attempted the same tackle and almost succeeded. Almost, because as soon as he approached, Michael roundhouse kicked him in the temple, almost knocking him out.

Finn lost his balance and collapsed onto the sand. His vision became blurry and there was a ring in his ears.

“Dumbass, you think this is the first time someone tried that?”

“What was that?” Finn was rocking back and forth trying to find his balance. “Why the long face, dude?”

Michael hesitated. After a long pause, he finally said “I failed the third exam.”

By now, the archer’s ears stopped ringing and he heard him clearly. Michael was clenching his fists, and his eyes were starting to get wet.

To this, Finn smiled, tilted his head, and asked “So? There's more than one way to power.”

“Are you out of your mind!?” Michael raised his foot and almost kicked him again. “It’s over! I can never catch up to the giants, and if I switch to swordsmanship, then what? I’ll live my entire life being one step behind like some Goddamn puppy.”

“Then don’t. I tried to tell you guys, you don’t have to follow the beaten path all the freaking time. There’s more than one way to get powerful.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You don’t have to change how you fight, just add something on top of it. I’m adding wind to my arrows, why don’t you add some to your fists?”

Michael looked down on his gauntlets and at the tiny orange stones embedded inside each of them.

“If it’s not my power…”

“Then make it yours. You have all the time in the world, don’t you? At least until next year when you can transfer back to the brawler class.” Finn got up and pushed the gates open. “Anyway, quit whining and make Natalie proud. I expect you to be stronger than the giant oaf in a few months’ time.”

With these words, Finn closed the gates behind him, leaving Michael to think for himself.

‘Yeren…’ The giant was undeniably strong, both in body and mind. Suddenly, Michael remembered Annie slamming the ground and summoning a pillar of wind. ‘Hmph, I’m not a mage.’

Despite this thought, the boy started moving. His legs took him into the Phoenix academy building, on the third floor, towards a door with a large staff embedded into it.

‘This is stupid…’ Michael opened the door. ‘But what do I have to lose?’