"Let's hear your thoughts. Our family's martial arts prodigy, Genos, has requested we lift all restrictions and hand over complete authority for managing the 13 prodigies with compatibility scores exceeding 80% to him."
The head of the family struck a hammer in the spacious tiered conference hall. A peculiar ripple swept across the room, silencing everything.
"What's gotten into the boy? The previous training went fine. Why is he making such a drastic demand now?" one elder asked with a frown.
"Cough, while the results of the training were satisfactory to us, it seems the young man was far from pleased. Hence, his request."
"Satisfactory? What more does he want?"
"According to him, these prodigies didn't even meet half of his expectations."
"They're already performing exceptionally well."
"But he wants excellence."
"Does this mean he's planning even harsher training methods? Including my grandson?" an old woman said, her expression pained. She had been dissatisfied with Muria's rigorous training methods but had little influence over the family's decisions.
"If we want better results, harsher training is inevitable. Is that even a question?"
"Increasing the intensity might endanger lives."
"I think we should agree to his request, as long as we uphold the bottom line and ensure their safety. We've been at peace for far too long. The combat capabilities of the Federation's star armor pilots are half a tier below those of the Empire and the Church. They're no match."
"That's unavoidable. The Empire borders territories of skyborne species and is in a constant state of war. It's only natural their star armor pilots are stronger. As for the Church, they're a bunch of lunatics."
"While innate circumstances create disparities in combat strength, we now have an opportunity to close that gap. We mustn't let it slip away."
"Honestly, Genos provides a new perspective. He's proven that martial arts and star armor piloting aren't incompatible—they can complement each other. We could try cultivating family elites along this line."
"Dream on. The family's already tried similar experiments. As for Genos, his primary focus is martial arts. His star armor skills, while remarkable, haven't received much of his attention due to his talents."
"We could try again with some of the less gifted family members. Times are different now. If it works, we can expand on it. Martial arts do have their merits."
"Fine. Waste resources on your experiments if you want. I'm staying out of it," one elder said, shaking his head as the discussion veered off course.
He had studied enough to understand the difficulties of becoming a martial artist. Compared to star armor pilots, the investment-to-return ratio in martial arts was grossly disproportionate. Countless attempts ended in failure, with negligible results to show.
The Douglas family's prior experiments had been no exception, yielding little to no success.
…
A year passed quietly. Muria's proposal to intensify the training for the 13 prodigies was approved, and he implemented a harsher regimen.
The training was so grueling that the prodigies began to consider hospital stays as a form of luxury. However, Muria controlled the intensity just enough to avoid injuries severe enough to warrant medical pod treatment.
Endless training made the prodigies feel as though they were trapped in a perpetual hell. Fortunately, glimpses of light appeared periodically.
This light stemmed from their age—they hadn't yet completed the Federation's compulsory education. While their primary reason for living in this estate was to attend high school, they'd had the "luck" of becoming Muria's first batch of test subjects.
Now, attending high school classes was their only respite. Completing assignments became their favored excuse to delay training.
Unlike regular students, these 13 prodigies prayed for as much homework as possible—enough to keep them up all night.
Unfortunately, this was a pipe dream. Being members of the Douglas family meant attending regular school was out of the question. To free up more training time, the family hired private tutors for on-site lessons, deliberately minimizing homework.
…
A man dressed neatly in a teacher's uniform entered the classroom, spotting three students. Pausing briefly, he checked his attendance list. Upon noticing an unfamiliar name, his expression darkened.
"Robert, your name isn't on today's roster. If I recall, you've already attended this lesson," the teacher said, his tone filled with displeasure.
"Mr. Mack, it's like this: while I've attended this lesson, there are still many aspects I don't fully understand. So, I'd like to sit in again," Robert replied with a sheepish grin.
"You can review the recorded lecture. It's just as effective," Mack said, wiping sweat from his brow.
"It's not the same! I find it better to learn directly from you," Robert insisted.
"Fine, but sit at the back of the classroom," Mack relented, clearly reluctant.
"No problem, as long as you don't kick me out!" Robert grinned as he complied.
Mack kept a stiff face, steadying his trembling legs as he walked to the podium to begin the lesson.
Barely ten minutes had passed when an explosion blew a hole in the back wall of the classroom. Debris flew everywhere, leaving small craters in the walls and floor.
Without hesitation, Mack ducked under the podium. Strangely, the tension on his face eased—the worst had already passed.
Emerging from his hiding spot, Mack looked toward the intruder: a slender girl floating in the air, clad in star armor.
"Robert, you've got guts, skipping training again. Haven't you had enough yet?"
The girl's tone was full of discontent as she glared at the boy cowering in the back.
"Betty, don't slander me. I'm here because I didn't understand Mr. Mack's last lesson. I'm just making up for that. I love learning!" Robert retorted with mock seriousness, his expression exaggeratedly earnest.
"Who are you kidding? Even you don't believe that," Betty scoffed. "We've all used that excuse to death. You're not getting out of training this way."
"So, that devil Genos sent you to drag me back?" Robert chuckled. "Why you, though? Isn't this just giving me a free pass to skip today's training?"
"Who do you think you're looking down on?" Betty's expression turned furious. "We're all improving daily. If you slack off, you'll be overtaken. Just because you beat me last time doesn't mean you'll win today."
Their training included rules for dealing with deserters. If Robert defeated Betty, he could skip the day's training guilt-free. But if Betty won, Robert would face even harsher drills.
"Not bad. Let's see how much you've improved," Robert said, activating his star armor, the black-and-purple plates forming around him.
"Wait, can't you two fight outside? I can't handle the fallout from your battle!" Mack pleaded from behind the podium.
"It's fine. I'll protect you," one of the calmer students reassured him as the room prepared for chaos.
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