Sorcerer Combat I and Augmentation Mastery I were both located on the training grounds, so Tyrus didn't have to travel that far for each class. Apparently, sorcerer combat was being held in one of the round buildings, or towers.

These towers were quite short and made entirely of stone blocks. At the front entrance was a tall, rectangular archway that led inside, where a neat area greeted any new visitor. There were a lot of weapons racks housing practice weapons of different types, such as swords, spears, and shields. Power Reflectors and ordinary practice dummies, both naked and armored. Windows were spaced high along the curved wall, letting in sunlight. The area was surprisingly large, considering the tower itself wasn't.

"So this is the sparring room class is held," Tyrus said, surveying the space.

There were already a lot of first and second-year students—which was a common theme Tyrus noticed—gathered in the room, pressed against a nearby wall. From where he stood, he noticed that almost everyone stood in a circle, chatting with someone in the middle. Tyrus moved closer, their laughter and conversation growing louder as he neared.

One of the second-years noticed Tyrus approaching and stopped mid-conversation. The others around him paused and turned to face him. A hushed silence fell over them as they regarded the new arrival. Tyrus's gaze shifted between them, using mana sense to gauge their mana signatures.

To say he was disappointed would be an understatement. Like those in Elemental Mastery, their mana reservoirs were pathetically small. Most of the students were probably still in their first or second branches. Even the second-years were nothing to tell home about, and they were two years older than Tyrus. He could more or less guess what Sorcerer Combat I was all about, but would he learn anything at all with such mediocre students?

Tyrus flinched at his own egotistical thoughts, surprised that he was judging these people so quickly. Since when did he start thinking of other people like this? Looking down on people gave him a bad feeling, and he wanted to avoid becoming disrespectful and patronizing, like a certain someone.

After another good look, there was one more mana signature hiding amongst the others. It was much stronger than the rest, and it coming from within the group. Tyrus was interested, but that feeling shortly lasted when a red-haired boy broke away from the crowd and walked over to him.

"Hey Igneal," Tyrus said with a wave. "Looks like we have the same class. What are the odds—"

"Cut the act," Igneal said, stopping Tyrus mid-sentence. "Why act surprised when I already told you my schedule? Do you take me for a fool?"

Tyrus looked away. "...I thought it'd be funny to surprise you. That's all."

"Your sense of humor is appalling," he replied with a scowl.

Well, I should've expected this much. It's not like he'll be jumping for joy or even show he was glad to see me.

Tyrus stood near the wall, waiting for the class to begin. Soon after, a pair from sauntered in with happy faces. Tyrus's blank face morphed into a scowl. Two members from the group of four that gave him trouble yesterday were among them—one of them being that Dasan guy and the girl. The trouble makers moved alongside Igneal, their expressions smug.

"Lord Igneal!" Dasan exclaimed, stepping forward with a bow so deep it seemed absurd. "It seems the rumors that a Lockhart was attending the academy were true! What a privilege it is to share this class with someone of your standing. Surely, you’ll outshine the rest of us with your unmatched skill and prowess."

The girl beside him chimed in with a simpering smile. "It’s rare for someone of your pedigree to even bother with classes like these. Truly, it speaks to your noble discipline."

Igneal, to his credit, didn’t react with overt annoyance or delight. His expression remained impassive, though the subtle downturn of his lips hinted at his disdain for the theatrics. "Spare me your words. Nowadays, I am in no mood to listen to empty compliments."

Dasan’s face froze for a split second before he forced a nervous laugh, attempting to brush off the sharp rebuke. "Of course! I only wished to express my admiration. Your family has always been a beacon of power and refinement."

Tyrus stood by the wall, arms crossed, observing the unfolding exchange. It was almost painful to witness Dasan’s relentless groveling, and Tyrus couldn’t help but feel secondhand embarrassment. Worse still, Dasan’s gaze flicked toward him, and the familiar sneer from yesterday returned.

"And then there’s you," Dasan said, his voice dripping with condescension. "Don't think I've forgotten what you've done to me yesterday. I've already memorised your name and ugly face. You better watch yourself from now on, animal."

Tyrus narrowed his eyes but said nothing. He wasn’t about to give Dasan the satisfaction of a reaction. Instructor Alveria's warnings were still fresh in his mind. It didn't take a genius to know what would happen if another fight occurred, especially one so soon after his last error.

The silence only seemed to annoy Dasan even more as he whirled on his heels and returned to the group. Tyrus sighed, a little annoyed that the boy was still determined to pick a fight. No matter what, he had to keep his status as a silver-pin student in mind. Then again, there was only so much patience he could muster before something snapped.

Before he could decide on what to do in the future, a stern voice broke the tension. "If the lot of you are done chattering, perhaps we can finally begin the lesson?"

All heads turned forward, where the source of the voice came from. Up a small set of stairs and onto a platform with a railing around it stood the instructor. Tyrus visibly gagged when a man with the face of a chimp came into his line of sight.

"I am Instructor Malvil, and I will be the one in charge of this class," he barked, his voice cutting through the room like a whip. It was deep and commanding, with a harsh edge that left no room for debate.

Standing tall and rigid, his build was lean but muscular, with broad shoulders that commanded attention. Deep-set, intelligent eyes scanned the room, sharp as daggers, and his pronounced brow gave him an air of unrelenting sternness. Alongside ears big enough to hear a crawling ant, his nose was thick as a log, and his mouth, with thin, tight lips, seemed to be permanently locked in a disapproving line. A patch of neatly trimmed black hair framed his cheeks and jawline, blending seamlessly into his short-cropped hair.

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Despite his odd appearance, the man's attire was modest. He wore a tailored, high-collared coat of dark blue with gold trim, adorned with an emblem of crossed swords. Polished boots clicked against the stone floor as he shifted his weight, and the hint of a sword hilt peeked out from his side. Instructor Malvil climbed down the steps, arms folded behind his back. Tyrus already knew this beforehand, but he could tell he was going to hate this man with all of his heart.

"Sorcerer combat, in short, teaches you the basics of battle and how to defend yourself against human adversaries, blessed or unblessed. "

Instructor Malvil cast a sneaky glance at Tyrus and then turned his head to look at the rest. "Sorcerer combat in its entirety teaches you not only how to wield your power effectively but also how to defend yourself against those who would seek to exploit your weaknesses—whether they are sorcerers like you or ordinary humans with ambition and a blade."

He paced slowly across the platform, his polished boots striking the stone rhythmically. "Battle does not care for your lineage, your talents, or the size of your Karti Tree. It demands only one thing: survival. If you cannot meet that demand, you will not only fail in this class, but in life itself."

"This class," Malvil continued, "is not a place for complacency or excuses. You will learn to fight and defend using your body. You will study tactics, combat awareness, and how to adapt in the heat of battle. Each of you will be pushed to your limits—and then beyond them—because that is the only way to grow stronger."

He came to a halt in front of a display of practice weapons, selecting a wooden sword and raising it for the entire class to observe. "Do not fall into the misconception that relying solely on your sorcery will ensure your safety. A cunning adversary, equipped with both steel and tactics, can swiftly bring an end to your life even before you have an opportunity to utter a single incantation. That is precisely why we place great emphasis on teaching hand-to-hand combat and weapon proficiency, alongside sorcery, for those enrolled in the combat department."

Malvil returned the weapon back to its spot and continued, "Throughout the months, you will focus on different stances, footwork, and equipment. Can any of you rabble tell me the categories stances are regulated by? What about you, Lockhart?"

Igneal's eyes turned to slits. "...Aggressive, defensive, and adaptive."

"Correct, Lockhart. It seems your family truly are as studious as they are arrogant." Malvil's gaze lingered for a moment before turning toward Tyrus, his expression souring further.

"You there," he said. "Black tiger. Name one basic stance and the correct category it falls upon."

Tyrus stared. "River stance, and it falls under defensive. That's because the user's movements are like water, and they take advantage of their opponents' openings. The user's objective is to flow, strike, and retreat, attacking unless necessary."

Mr. Chimp blew air through his nose. "That is correct, surprisingly enough. I guess once in a blue moon there's a somewhat intelligent Beastfolk among your kind."

A few students snickered and chuckled. Tyrus's expression grew stony as he held back the urge to leap at the chimp. However, not only would that surely have him kicked out of the academy since attacking an instructor warranted expulsion, but there wasn't a chance he would win. With just one look, Mr. Chimp's mana was clearly far beyond his, and he carried himself as any confident swordsman would.

Mr. Chimp smiled at Tyrus' displeased expression. "In Lethos, soldiers commanded by the imperial family are trained to learn the basic stances. Mastery of these foundational movements ensures survival on the battlefield."

"Stances dictate not only how you fight but how you react, endure, and dominate. River stance, for example, may seem passive at first glance, but its strength lies in adaptability and precision. A soldier trained in it knows how to stay alive against overwhelming odds by conserving energy and capitalizing on the enemy's mistakes. We will practice river stance until you get the basics down. Everyone, grab a weapon from the rack!"

At his sharp command, everyone immediately moved and picked out a weapon they were most comfortable with, that being a plain wooden sword. Under another swift command, Mr. Chimp ordered everyone to fall into lines.

The room stilled, all eyes on the instructor as he stepped to the center of the tower. He waved over one of the second-years, a black-haired student wielding a practice sword. The young man, visibly nervous but determined, bowed slightly and took up a basic offensive stance. Mr. Chimp waved his hand dismissively. “No bowing. This is not a court duel. Attack me as if you mean it.”

The student hesitated before nodding and gripping his sword with both hands. He lunged forward, swinging the blade in a wide arc aimed at Mr. Chimp’s midsection.

With almost insulting ease, Mr. Chimp shifted his weight to the side, letting the blade pass harmlessly by. His movements were smooth, almost lazy, as if he were strolling by a calm riverbank. The man stepped forward into the student’s range.

The student’s next attack came quickly—a thrust aimed for the chest. Mr. Chimp’s arm shot out, guiding the blade harmlessly away with his palm. He pivoted sharply and struck the student’s ribs with an open hand, the impact causing the young man to stumble back.

Before the student could recover, Mr. Chimp retreated two steps, resuming a neutral stance. His feet slid across the ground, not breaking the flow of movement.

The student lunged again, this time faster and more aggressive, his attacks coming in rapid succession. But Mr. Chimp danced around each strike, redirecting them with subtle parries and sidesteps. His movements were an unbroken chain, each action transitioning seamlessly into the next.

“Do you see?” Mr. Chimp called out to the class as he dodged another swing. “The river stance is not about brute force or endless aggression. It is about reading your opponent, conserving energy, and exploiting weaknesses. A proper user flows around their enemy like water over stone, finding openings to deliver precise strikes.”

He disarmed the student in a blur of motion, his hand striking the blade’s flat edge and sending it clattering to the ground. The student fell back, breathing heavily, while Mr. Chimp stood tall, not a hair out of place.

“Had this been a real fight, he would already be dead,” Mr. Chimp said, his tone clinical. “But as you can see, there was no waste in my movements. The river stance ensures survival by balancing defense and offense. It is a style for those who value efficiency and precision.”

He turned back to the class, his dark eyes scanning the room. “Pair up and practice what you’ve seen. I will be watching and correcting. And if I see even one of you flailing your arms or standing like a frozen log, you’ll wish you had never enrolled in this academy.”

The students scrambled to find partners, their nervous energy palpable. Tyrus, still standing in his spot, replayed the demonstration over in his head.

This wasn't the first time he had seen river stance, nor was it the first time he had learned it. After all, it was Igneal's bread and butter. Ever since their first duel, and their last back at Selena's manor, the noble made it a point to move like a river. But the fluidity Mr. Chimp displayed was far superior to even Igneal's. That was a given, since Mr. Chimp possessed far more experience and skill.

Still... He sometimes used his hands to counterattack. Igneal never did that before. Maybe Mr. Chimp was feeling cocky in that moment since they were using practice swords. If so, why demonstrate something that could easily be misinterpreted?

Tyrus glanced at Igneal, who was already swarmed with people asking to be his partner. The boy sighed and turned around, looking for anyone that wouldn't mind being his partner.

"Hey, animal."

Tyrus turned to see Dasan, all alone, approaching. His hand was wrapped around a wooden sword and his posture was relaxed, yet confident. Tyrus eyes narrowed as he gripped his own sword tightly.

"Since no one else wants to partner up with you, I wouldn't mind practicing with a weakling like you. You just got lucky last time."

At first, Tyrus thought about refusing the offer and look elsewhere, but he thought of something. He faced Dasan properly and rested the weapon on his shoulder. Dasan's face split into a smile.

"Oh, did you finally realize your place?"

Tyrus remained silent and positioned themselves in the central area of the tower, where they were easily visible to all the other students.