"Teacher, I watched your match today—you were so cool! You slapped your opponent down with a single move!"
Muria had just returned to his temporary residence to prepare for the next round when his communicator buzzed. Upon answering, he saw the faces of the students he had previously trained to tears, now enjoying their vacation, appearing on the screen. A cheerful girl was complimenting him with a bright smile.
"Hmm," Muria responded with a calm expression, quietly savoring the praise.
"Betty, how can you say something like that? Doesn't your conscience hurt?" Next to her, a boy named Victor feigned shock before breaking into a mischievous grin. "So, how much did Gerlos pay you? Spill the beans! If the price is right, I don't mind swallowing my pride to join you. We can all profit together!"
"Ahem, Gerlos is watching you, you know," Betty coughed lightly, reminding her companion.
"Haha, Gerlos, I was just joking! You're not upset, are you?" Victor glanced back at Muria's expression. Though Muria's face remained stoic, Victor thought he caught a hint of darkening in his complexion—but upon closer inspection, it seemed unchanged.
"Hmm." Muria nodded slightly. He wouldn't hold a grudge over something so trivial. His heart was, after all, quite broad-minded.
"By the way, Gerlos, that move of yours looked incredible! Why didn't you use it during our training?"
"What do you think?" Muria replied with a question, looking at them with a faint smile.
"Brother, that move of yours may look imposing, but the power is far too scattered. It's more suited for dealing with large creatures than Astral Armor pilots. I bet you used it in the match because of its visual impact—to intimidate your future opponents and secure easy wins," Daisy analyzed confidently, her expression brimming with self-assurance.
"Not bad." Seeing her confidence, Muria didn't bother to correct her. Her analysis was accurate in explaining the theatrical purpose of his move, though his primary goal was to show off and build his reputation.
Through studying the Douglas family's internal structure, Muria found it fascinating. Power in the family was concentrated in the patriarch and the elders. While the patriarch held the greatest authority, a united council of elders could surpass even the patriarch's power.
What intrigued him more was that these positions were not hereditary but elective. The patriarch and elders were chosen from all formal members of the family, meaning the patriarch's child was not guaranteed to inherit the role. This system meant any family member, including Muria, could potentially rise to lead the Douglas family.
However, becoming the patriarch required immense prestige within the family. This tournament provided Muria with an excellent opportunity to leave a deep impression not only on the family but also on the entire Federation. While the patriarch might not always be the most talented pilot, it was unthinkable for the family to elect a weakling.
"Teacher, someone as powerful as you joining the preliminaries is just bullying! Why didn't the family secure you a direct spot in the main competition?"
A boy couldn't help but voice his sympathy for Muria's opponents, whom he believed were tragically overmatched.
"The family has its reasons," Muria replied with a smile. He understood that the primary purpose of the Federation's triannual Astral Armor Tournament was to showcase the government's and the four major families' military strength to neighboring nations and the public.
As a martial arts prodigy emerging in an era where martial artists were dwindling, Muria naturally became part of this display of power. His targets were the Federation's government and the other three families.
---
Time passed as Muria chatted casually with the group of students, exchanging jokes, sharing family secrets, and gossiping about others.
"Oh, by the way, have you all finished your training assignments for today?" Muria suddenly smacked his forehead as if he had just remembered.
"Assignments?" The teenagers, who had assumed they'd get a break while Muria participated in the tournament, were collectively dumbfounded.
"What assignments?" Betty asked cautiously.
"Oh, it seems I was in such a rush for the competition that I forgot to assign homework. Well, I'll assign it now!" Muria said with a faint smile, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the screen. "Don't worry; it's nothing big. Just some paired sparring."
The students, who had been frozen like statues, suddenly relaxed, their faces lighting up with relief.
"Daisy, you'll pair with Betty. Robert and Rashid will be a team…" Muria's lips curled slightly upward. "Victor, it seems there's no one left to spar with you. Let me think about who to pair you with."
"Wait, Gerlos, I can find my own opponent! Don't arrange anyone for me!" Victor finally realized what was happening. Muria's sudden assignment was clearly aimed at him, payback for his earlier comments.
Ignoring him, Muria appeared deep in thought for a few moments before his expression brightened with realization. "Got it. My pets are still around. I'll arrange for you to spar with them. Don't worry; as long as they don't kill you, they can do whatever they want. The harsher the better—it's for your growth."
"Wait, boss, I was wrong! Don't do this!"
Beep!
The screen went black as Muria ended the call, his face vanishing.
"Victor, this isn't me targeting you. It's just how the pairing worked out. Sparring against a group of legendary projections isn't such a bad deal." Muria muttered to himself, then dialed another number. Soon, a massive black-furred dog with faintly visible scales appeared on the screen.
"Woof!" The enormous black-scaled hound wagged its tail furiously at the sight of Muria, its demeanor utterly obsequious.
"Sivarin, I have a task for you. Grab a few others and meet Victor. Train with him thoroughly—just don't kill him. The more intense, the better. Make sure he learns something."
"Woof!" Sivarin, a seasoned sycophant, instantly understood Muria's intent and eagerly trotted off to carry out the orders. It would ensure the boy who had dared provoke its master received proper "training."
---
Victor stared at his pale reflection in the dark screen. As his companions' eyes turned to him, he straightened his posture, unwilling to show weakness.
"Pfft. You're scared, aren't you? Let them come! So what if I end up hospitalized? It's not like I haven't been there before. I'll just treat the hospital like home."
"Awooo!" A deep, resonant howl echoed, causing Victor to involuntarily shudder, fear flashing in his eyes.
"Victor, didn't you say you weren't scared? Why are you shaking?" Betty teased, giggling at the sight of his trembling body.
"Of course I'm not scared! It's just… my body is scared. I can't help it," Victor insisted, his teeth gritted against his body's betrayal.
"You knew provoking Gerlos wouldn't end well. Now you're paying for it. Serves you right!" another boy said, smirking gleefully at Victor's predicament.
"I knew he held grudges, but I didn't think it would be this bad…" Victor muttered, his battle-honed instincts screaming at him as heavy footsteps grew closer, then suddenly stopped.
The room fell eerily silent, tension thick in the air. Victor's companions slowly backed away, leaving him isolated.
"What's the meaning of this?" Victor demanded angrily, glaring at the group.
"You made your bed; now lie in it. Don't drag us down with you," Daisy said coldly.
"But we're family!" Victor's voice quivered, his shirt soaked with cold sweat.
"You won't die. At worst, you'll just spend more time in the hospital," Daisy replied nonchalantly.
Boom!
A nearby wall shattered, and a massive black-scaled claw wreathed in visible energy reached for Victor…
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