Gordan stepped onto the mat, his thoughts clouded with confusion. How was he supposed to show Master Harlow "what he’s got"? He was still new at swordsmanship, and this whole training introduction felt foreign. The strangest thing was the way Master Harlow had worded her request.

But the answer came quickly. "Spar with Lee. Use everything you’ve got," Master Harlow ordered, her voice cold and commanding. The air in the training hall seemed to thicken with tension.

Gordan’s stomach dropped. Lee. His sparring partner was non other than an aspiring master. Lee, at the age of twenty, was already up to level 3, while Gordan himself scraped by at level 1. The disparity between them felt like a chasm. The outcome seemed painfully obvious.

Lee and Gordan took their positions on the mat, but as they squared off, Gordan couldn’t shake the unease gnawing at him. This wasn’t like the spars he’d had in the past, with classmates who were as unsure of their skills as he was. This was different—this felt more like a test of his worth, of his very existence in this new world.

Lee winked and smiled, but Gordan didn't have a good feeling about it. The others were watching. Master Harlow was watching. His heart thumped in his chest as the weight of expectations pressed down on him...

"BEGIN!" Master Harlow’s shout echoed through the backyard training ground.

Lee wasted no time. He dashed forward, his movements fluid and precise, faster than Gordan could follow. In a blur, Lee’s new wooden sword—one he had only recently replaced—was upon him. Gordan’s instinct screamed at him to move, but his body felt sluggish. Time itself had slowed for him while the rest of the world sped up.

You've grown a lot I see. Gordan thought

He had no weapon—no good one, at least. His bonded weapon could only transform into mundane objects, sub optimal for combat. Yet, in the face of Lee’s relentless approach, Gordan’s mind raced. What could I use?

Desperation fueled his thoughts. In a flash, Gordan summoned his bonded weapon, transforming it into a walking stick. It wasn’t much, but it was better than standing defenseless. He held it up, barely managing to block Lee’s first strike—a vicious downward slash aimed at his collarbone.

The impact rattled through Gordan’s arms, knocking him off balance. His walking stick wobbled under the pressure, not suitable for this kind of punishment. Lee’s intent bore down on him. His eyes locked on Gordan with the intensity of a predator hunting prey. There was no malice there—only the sharp, honed precision of someone trained to win.

Pathetic... Gordan thought to himself as he struggled to maintain his footing. I can't hold on! Legs, MOVE! He shouted in his mind.

Off-balance and disoriented—In that brief pause, Gordan wavered, his balance lost. Lee seized the opportunity, delivering a swift poke to Gordan’s forehead with the tip of his wooden sword. It was enough to tip Gordan over, sending him sprawling onto the mat.

"It's what I expected..." Gordan muttered, wincing as he tried to get back up. "My level is lower, after all."

Lee’s expression shifted, his face paling with sudden panic. "No! Don’t mention levels—"

But the rest of his sentence never came. Master Harlow’s gaze swept across the room like a cold wind. Her presence was suffocating, her eyes burning with a quiet fury that silenced everyone.

Master Harlow’s presence seemed to fill the room to the brim, her eyes sharp as knives. The weight of her gaze silenced everything.

"No," her voice filled with authority. "It’s not about levels. In fact, we have your next opponent here."

Gordan blinked, still on his knees, confused by what she meant. His confusion only deepened when he noticed a small figure beside Master Harlow. It was a young girl—**Sisi**, Lee’s little sister. She couldn’t have been more than twelve years old. She had a meek demeanor, clutching a short wooden training sword in her small hands.

"You mean she’s...?" Gordan trailed off, unsure if he was understanding the situation correctly.

"Yes," Master Harlow confirmed, her tone leaving no room for doubt. "She’s your next opponent."

Gordan’s jaw clenched. This is absurd.

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Sisi was just a child—barely old enough to hold a sword, let alone fight. What kind of lesson was this? He was a grown man, twenty-two years of age. A full ten years older than Lee's sister.

Sparring with a little girl? It felt wrong. Everyone knew the system didn’t even activate for kids until they turned sixteen. Sisi didn’t have any levels, any stats, any combat training, for that matter. She was, by all appearances, a regular kid.

And yet, here he was, being ordered to fight her.

His thoughts swirled with discomfort. How could I possibly attack a child?

"BEGIN!" Master Harlow shouted once more.

Before he could gather his thoughts, Sisi made the first move. She dashed forward, faster than her small frame suggested, and struck with precision. The most prevalent feature was her eyes. A transition from naive young girl to that of a predator, a shark.

Gordan managed to block the first strike with his walking stick, it wobbled loosening his grip. A child. Just what the hell have you taught her?

She followed up with a series of swift, calculated hits. Each blow landed, sending Gordan stumbling backward.

Gordan hadn't registered what was happening. Yet when her second set of strikes came, it was quick and clean, aimed directly at his midsection. But Sisi didn’t stop there. She spun, bringing her sword around with a graceful arc that caught Gordan’s knee. He stumbled, his leg buckling beneath him as he tried to keep up with the flurry of strikes. Every swing of her sword was precise, her form impeccable from his perspective.

Gordan onto the defensive, his walking stick proving to be more of a hindrance than a help. He blocked one hit, then another, but Sisi was relentless. Her strikes came from every conceivable direction, and Gordan struggled to keep up. His arms sore from his earlier spar with Lee, and now, this little girl was putting him on the back foot—no, she was outright overwhelming him.

Another strike slipped past his guard, piercing him in the shoulder.

I can’t believe this... I’m being beaten by a child. He thought

She spun and knocked his weapon aside, then delivered a sharp strike to his shin, sending him crashing to the mat. Gordan was floored—both literally and figuratively. He was aghast. He’d just been beaten down by a child.

Sisi stepped back, her breathing steady. Gordan, on the other hand, sprawled on the mat, bruised and humiliated.

Master Harlow’s voice cut through the stunned silence. "Gordan," she called, her tone as stern as ever. "Do you think the system alone is responsible for a person’s worth?"

He had never thought about it like that. To him, like everyone else, the system was everything. Children eagerly awaited the day they would unlock their stats, skills, and levels. It was the pathway to their dreams and careers.

Gordan slowly sat up, rubbing his sore shoulder. The question caught him off guard. Did he? He’d always believed that the system was everything. It was the foundation of society. Kids waited eagerly to unlock their skills and stats. But he was no kid anymore.

But Master Harlow was challenging this fundamental belief. The very idea that the system defined strength.

Do I really believe that? He asked himself.

"I... don’t know if I do or not," Gordan admitted, still trying to catch his breath. "But one thing I do know is that a person can be strong without the system. That doesn’t mean they don’t have any value." He thought about the last few moments, where he’d been utterly defeated by a little girl. She is someone who didn’t even have access to the system.

Master Harlow regarded him for a long moment, her sharp gaze weighing his words. "Do you know what the system really does?" she asked.

Gordan frowned. "It... allows people to learn advanced skills and apply them." He replied, repeating the line he’d memorized back in school.

"Wrong. Dead wrong," Master Harlow said, her tone cold. "The system does one thing—it allows others to profit from your hard work."

Gordan raised an eyebrow, confused.

"The system is the cumulative experience of humanity," she explained. "Every skill you learn, every technique you master, was discovered by someone else first. Swordsmanship is no exception."

Master Harlow’s words were heavy, but she wasn’t done.

Master Harlow continued. "My grandfather—Lee and Sisi’s great-grandfather—was a swordsmanship grandmaster. He reached level 57, the highest anyone had ever reached at that time. He alone broke through level 60." She paused, a proud smile tugging at her lips. "After that, people all over the world began breaking through to level 60 as well. Do you know why, Gordan?"

Gordan listened intently as she continued.

"They all learned sword aura," Master Harlow said, her voice growing softer but no less intense. "But not just any sword aura. They learned the exact same sword aura that my grandfather had created."

Gordan shook his head, perplexed. He stared at her, stunned. He had never heard anything like this before.

"You’re living off of stolen knowledge, Gordan," Master Harlow concluded, her gaze piercing. "You must never forget that."