Erik couldn’t shake the images from the vision he’d experienced last night. As he made his way to the training grounds, his thoughts were consumed by the battle he had seen—the devastating strikes, the earth-shaking clashes, and the overwhelming presence of the figures locked in combat.

Who were they? he wondered, the fragments of memory vivid in his mind. He didn’t know what they were, only that their power was incomprehensible. Among them, one figure had stood out—a warrior whose every movement radiated dominance. The way they wielded their weapon wasn’t just skill; it was something far beyond human understanding. For a fleeting moment during the vision, Erik had felt as though he were watching through their eyes.

Even now, as the memory lingered, he could feel a faint echo of that power. It made his blood hum, a sensation both exhilarating and terrifying.

Erik shook his head, forcing himself to focus. The training grounds loomed ahead, filled with students from both Class C and Class A. It was a rare combined session, and Erik already felt the weight of the disdainful glances from the Class A students.

The arena was buzzing with energy as the students gathered, their practice weapons clutched in eager hands. At the center of the field stood Claire, her crimson hair catching the sunlight. She exuded authority, her commanding presence drawing the attention of every student. To them, she was an idol. To Erik, she was a constant reminder of his inadequacy.

“Today, you’ll be sparring against one another,” Claire announced, her voice firm.

“Class C, take this as an opportunity to push yourselves. Class A, I expect you to show restraint where needed—but don’t hold back your skill.”

As the students began pairing off, Erik hung back, hoping to avoid attention. Unfortunately, fate had other plans.

“Well, well,” came a voice dripping with mockery. Erik turned to see Cedric Valen, a noble from Class A, strolling toward him with a smug grin. The boy’s golden hair gleamed, and his sharp features radiated arrogance.

“The famous Erik Miller. Or should I say, the disgrace of the Miller family?”

Erik’s fists clenched, but he didn’t respond. He knew Cedric’s type all too well.

“Tell me,” Cedric continued, his voice loud enough for everyone nearby to hear, “how does it feel to drag your sister’s reputation down? I mean, she’s a prodigy—a Genesis-ranked fighter—and you? You’re just... Class C trash.”

A ripple of laughter spread through the Class A students. Erik’s face burned, but he stayed silent.

Cedric smirked, clearly enjoying himself. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue? Or are you just used to being a disappointment?”

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Before Erik could react, Claire’s voice rang out. “That’s enough, Cedric.”

The noble turned to face her, his grin unfaltering.

“Just having some fun, Instructor Miller. No harm meant.”

Claire’s eyes narrowed. “Pair up,” she ordered, ignoring his excuse. “Cedric, you’re with Erik.”

Cedric’s smirk widened. “Perfect.”

Erik felt a lump in his throat as they stepped into the sparring circle. Cedric twirled his wooden practice staff with practiced ease, his movements almost mocking.

“Let’s make this quick,” Cedric said, settling into a relaxed stance.

Claire’s voice cut through the air.

“Begin!”

Cedric attacked immediately, his strikes precise and overwhelming. Erik scrambled to block, each clash sending painful vibrations up his arms. Cedric was relentless, his smirk never fading.

“You call this fighting?” Cedric sneered, slamming his staff into Erik’s ribs. Erik staggered, gasping for breath but refusing to fall.

Cedric didn’t let up. Blow after blow rained down, each strike pushing Erik closer to his limit. The laughter of the Class A students rang in his ears, mixing with Cedric’s taunts.

“Pathetic,” Cedric said, knocking Erik’s staff from his hands with a sharp strike. Erik fell to his knees, his vision blurring.

“Enough!” Claire’s voice rang out, silencing the arena.

She stepped into the circle, her presence a wall between Erik and Cedric. Her eyes blazed with anger as she stared down the arrogant noble.

Cedric laughed, leaning casually on his staff. “Come to rescue him, have you? Figures. He can’t even stand up for himself.”

The words stung, but before Erik could respond, something strange happened. A faint hum filled his ears, and for a brief moment, the world around him seemed to blur.

Erik blinked, and suddenly he was no longer in the training grounds. Instead, he stood in a battlefield unlike anything he had ever seen. The air crackled with energy, and the ground was scorched and broken. In the distance, a towering figure wielded a massive staff that glowed with ancient runes.

The warrior moved with impossible speed and grace, each strike of their weapon tearing through enemies like paper. The force of their movements sent shockwaves through the air, and their presence was overwhelming, a force of nature incarnate.

Erik felt his chest tighten. What is this? he thought, his heart pounding.

The vision faded as quickly as it had come, leaving Erik breathless.

He was back in the training circle, Claire standing over him. Cedric was still laughing, oblivious to Erik’s momentary lapse.

“You can’t even fight your own battles!” Cedric mocked.

Claire’s voice cut through the noise like a blade.

“Strength isn’t about tearing others down, Cedric. You’re done for today. Get out of my sight.”

Cedric opened his mouth to protest but thought better of it. With a scoff, he stalked off, leaving Erik on the ground.

Claire crouched beside him, her expression softer than before. “Are you okay?” she asked quietly.

Erik glanced at her, his gray eyes cold. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

Claire frowned. “I wasn’t going to let him humiliate you like that.”

“I don’t need you fighting my battles for me,” Erik said sharply, pushing himself to his feet.

Her expression hardened. “You don’t get it, do you? You need to—”

“I get it,” Erik interrupted, his voice low but firm. “You’re the perfect Miller. I’m the failure. Just... stay out of it.”

Claire opened her mouth to reply but stopped herself, her jaw tightening. Without another word, she turned and walked away.

Erik stared after her, his chest tightening with frustration. He wanted to feel grateful, but the bitterness he carried wouldn’t let him. Her intervention only reminded him of how far he had to go—how much he had to prove.

What was that power I felt? he thought, clenching his fists. I need to get stronger. On my own.