Lucas’s face twisted in rage. “You think I’m still the same guy you used to know? I’ll show you what I’m capable of!”

Nearby students, always hungry for drama, began to gather like moths to a flame.

“Isn’t that Lucas stirring up trouble again?” one whispered.

“Of course it is. Guy’s got a brother on the Silvercrest Genius List, so he thinks he’s untouchable,” another chimed in.

“Who’s the other guy? Asmon, right? Heard he barely got in. Some kind of charity case.”

Lucas’s smirk deepened as the whispers fed his ego. Turning back to Asmon, he sneered, “A double-waste like you, standing up to me? That’s rich. Do yourself a favor—kneel and apologize, and maybe I’ll go easy on you. Otherwise, I’ll beat you so badly even your mother wouldn’t recognize you.”

Asmon’s face didn’t so much as twitch. “You want to fight? Fine. But if anyone’s walking away unrecognizable, it’ll be you.”

The crowd collectively gasped.

“Did he just say that?”

“This guy’s either brave or stupid,” another whispered.

Lucas’s smirk evaporated. His face twisted with fury. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. Let’s take this to the arena. Unless, of course, you’re too scared?”

Asmon, arms crossed, gave him a look that said, Really? “The arena? Why bother? Let’s just handle this here.”

Lucas’s triumphant grin returned. “What, scared of the rules? If we fight here, we’ll both get expelled. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

Asmon rolled his eyes. 'Of course, this guy’s hiding behind the rules.' “Fine, but let’s make it interesting. How about a wager?”

Lucas’s eyes gleamed with greed. He whipped out a jade bottle, holding it aloft like a trophy. “This is a Body Tempering Pill. If you win, it’s yours. But if you lose, you owe me one. Deal?”

The crowd erupted into murmurs. “A Body Tempering Pill? That’s worth a fortune!”

“Lucas’s setting him up to fail. This is just bullying at this point.”

But Asmon didn’t flinch. “Deal,” he said, his tone calm, even amused. He knew this pill was worth a small fortune and would skyrocket his progress. And thanks to his Maga System, Lucas was basically handing him a golden ticket.

“Is he insane?” someone whispered. “He’s two levels below Lucas Yates ! He doesn’t stand a chance!”

Lucas’s grin widened, confidence oozing from every pore. “Since you’re so eager to lose, let’s head to the arena.”

Asmon held up a hand. “No need. We can settle it right here.”

Lucas Yates ’s face darkened. “What, too scared to face me in front of an audience? Afraid of losing in public? Don’t think I’ll let you get away with breaking the rules.”

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Asmon smirked, leaning in slightly. “Oh, I’m not afraid of losing. I’m just saving you the embarrassment of everyone watching when you realize you’ve bitten off more than you can chew.”

As Asmon stepped onto the field, the crowd of students burst into laughter and jeers.

“Look at this guy! Second level at Body Tempering trying to challenge someone at fourth level? Someone stop him before he hurts himself!” one student snorted.

“He’s got guts, I’ll give him that. Or maybe just a death wish,” another added with a dramatic shake of his head.

“Ten moves? Please, Lucas will end it in one!” a third chimed in, smirking.

Despite the mocking, there was a grudging hint of admiration behind their words. After all, it took a special kind of audacity—or stupidity—to walk into a fight so confidently against the odds.

Lucas, already steaming, stepped forward with a sneer plastered across his face. “Asmon, still playing the arrogant fool, I see. You really think you’re going to win this with some cheap tricks?”

Asmon raised an eyebrow, his tone maddeningly calm. “Talking so much before a fight… are you trying to bore me into losing? Let’s stick to the rules: touch me even once, and I’ll admit defeat.”

Lucas’s fists clenched so hard his knuckles cracked. “Keep acting smug. I’ll wipe that smirk off your face!” With that, he launched himself forward, aiming to grab Asmon’s shoulder.

Just as his hand reached out, Asmon’s figure blurred like a mirage in the desert. He reappeared three meters away, hands still casually by his sides.

Lucas froze mid-step, his jaw slack. 'What the—?! Did he teleport? No, that’s impossible at his level!'

He gritted his teeth and tried again, moving faster this time. But Asmon simply sidestepped, leaving him clutching at thin air like an amateur in a slapstick comedy. Two more attempts followed, both equally futile. Sweat began to bead on Lucas Yates ’s forehead as his frustration mounted.

By now, the crowd had fallen into stunned silence, save for the occasional whisper.

“How’s he doing that? Is he secretly stronger than he looks?”

“Nah, Lucas’s just too slow. Maybe he needs to lay off the late-night snacks.”

Lucas’s frustration hit a boiling point. Abandoning all finesse, he lunged with a final, desperate burst of speed. But Asmon moved out of reach once again, as calm as if he were strolling through a garden. The tenth move came and went, and Lucas stood there, panting and red-faced, while Asmon remained as unruffled as ever.

“It’s over,” Asmon said, folding his arms and tilting his head slightly. “Hand over the Body Tempering Pill. A deal’s a deal.”

Lucas’s face twisted in fury, but he reluctantly tossed the pill to Asmon with a glare that could have melted steel. “This isn’t over, Asmon. You’ll regret this,” he spat before storming off.

Asmon caught the pill mid-air, inspecting it with a casual smile. “Looking forward to it,” he called after him.

Silvercrest Martial Institute was unlike anything Asmon had encountered before. Its structure was straightforward but rigid: an Inner Palace for the academy’s brightest talents, known as the Silvercrest Genius List disciples, and an Outer Palace divided into C, B, and A classes.

A class students were the elite—the shining stars from prestigious backgrounds. Silver students earned their place through merit and hard work. Then there was the C class: a mixed bag of backdoor entrants, questionable recommendations, and… well, Asmon.

Not that he cared about labels. “C, B, A—whatever. I’ll make my own way,” he muttered as he skimmed the academy’s rules.

His roommate, Travis Shepherd, waddled over, a wide grin on his chubby face. “Brother Asmon, there’s an alchemy class for us C students this afternoon. Want to check it out?”

Asmon raised an eyebrow. “Alchemy, huh? Why not. Maybe I’ll learn how to turn water into wine.”

The pair headed to the classroom, joining nearly a hundred students. Among them, of course, was Lucas , whose expression soured the moment he spotted Asmon.

“Well, well, look who’s here,” Lucas sneered, his tone dripping with venom. “Do you even know what alchemy is, or are you just here to humiliate yourself?”

Asmon smiled coolly. “No idea. But I bet I’m already better than you.”

Lucas’s face darkened as the other students burst into muffled laughter. “Why don’t you make another bet, then?” Asmon added, his grin widening. “Bring another Body Tempering Pill while you’re at it.”

Lucas glared but sank into his seat, clearly unwilling to risk another humiliation. The chatter died down as a stunning young instructor entered the room. She looked barely twenty, her presence commanding instant respect. The students straightened in their seats, trying—and failing—not to gawk.

“That’s Sophia Lexington,” Travis whispered to Asmon. “Third-rank alchemist. She’s a big deal.”