Oliver was dragged around by the bastard trio.
They stopped at an isolated corner of the training grounds—quiet enough that no one would bother looking this way.
Without warning, William's fist slammed into Oliver's chest. The impact knocked him off his feet and sent him skidding back.
"Get up, Oli~," William said with a mocking grin. "Don't waste our happy training time."
Oliver forced himself to stand, jaw clenched. Before he could fully steady himself—
Thwack!
Nick slammed the sheath of his sword into Oliver's back. Pain shot through him and he stumbled forward, gasping.
"Oi, don't fall asleep on us," Nick sneered.
"Yeah," Andrew smirked, already raising his hand. "Let's wake him up. Burn my target—[Fireball]!"
A ball of flame shot toward him. Oliver's body screamed in protest as he rolled away, barely dodging the heat.
But the moment he got to his knees—
"Drown my target—[Waterball]!"
A sphere of water smashed into his gut. The force sent him sprawling again, coughing and choking. Sour liquid rose in his throat and he gagged. The sudden cold gnawed at his skin, especially after the lingering burn from the fireball.
"Hah! You're pathetic, Oli," William said, kicking him in the stomach. "Can't you at least try?"
Oliver curled in on himself, swallowing back the nausea. The "training" went on like this—mockery, blows, and spells disguised as practice.
He gritted his teeth, wondering for the hundredth time why he was the only one so powerless. Even if he couldn't beat them, he could try to fight back. But that wasn't him.
Ever since he was a kid, conflicts only ended one way: he got hurt. So he learned to step back, hoping things would stop if he just endured.
Some called that kindness. Others called it cowardice.
Oliver didn't know which was right.
The pain was starting to blur his thoughts when—
"What the hell are you doing!?"
The sharp, angry voice cut through the air like a whip.
The Bastard Trio froze. William's smirk faltered.
Lisa.
Of all people, it had to be Lisa—the girl William had been hopelessly crushing on since day one. If this were a romance novel, Oliver might have laughed at the toad trying to eat swan meat.
And she wasn't alone. Sara, Daniel, and Jason stood behind her, each looking varying degrees of unimpressed.
"No, no, you've got it wrong," William said quickly, straightening up. "We were just, uh… helping Oliver with some special training—"
"Oliver!"
Lisa didn't even glance at him. She hurried over and knelt beside Oliver, who was still hunched over and coughing.
Seeing him drenched and shivering, she muttered an incantation.
"[Gentle Breeze]."
Warm wind swirled around him, drying his clothes and easing the chill that bit at his skin.
"Special training?" Lisa stood, her eyes narrowing at William. "Looked more like a one-sided beating."
"I-It's not—"
"I'm not interested in your excuses," she cut him off. "You all know Oliver isn't suited for direct combat. This should never happen again."
She folded her arms. "If you've got this much spare time, use it to train yourselves instead of ganging up on someone weaker."
William forced a strained laugh. "R-right… we'll get going."
The Bastard Trio backed off quickly, their fake smiles barely holding.
Lisa turned back to Oliver and began healing his bruises, her magic soothing away the worst of the pain.
"T-Thanks, Lisa," Oliver said weakly. "You really saved me."
But his bitter smile made her frown.
"Has this been happening a lot?" she asked quietly. "Because if it has… I—"
Before Lisa could finish her sentence, Oliver spoke over her. He didn't need her stirring things up any further. What was she thinking—charging in like that? Did she really believe they'd just stop? If she fought with them now, they'd only take it out on him later. And next time, it would be worse. A lot worse. It's not like she was going to shadow him twenty-four hours a day to keep them away.
"No, it's not always like this," he said quickly, forcing some steadiness into his voice. "I'm fine. Really."
Lisa's eyes narrowed slightly. "But—"
"I said it's fine," he interrupted again, trying to give her a reassuring smile. It probably looked more like he was wincing. Eventually, she let out a small breath and eased back, though her face showed she clearly didn't believe him.
"If anything happens again, tell me. Or at least tell Sara," Lisa said finally.
Sara glanced at her, half an expression that said drop it before you make it worse, and then turned to Oliver with a polite smile. He returned it with a nod, but before anyone else could speak, Daniel stepped forward, arms folded.
"Oliver, you should put in more effort. Excuses aren't going to make you stronger. I've heard you spend your breaks in the library—stop that. Use every free moment to train. If I were you, I'd be out here until I collapsed. Otherwise, William and his group will keep walking all over you."
Oliver stood there, unable to think of a good answer. Of course Daniel would say that. The guy was the SSS-class hero with absurd talent and stats. Training for him meant getting even stronger; for Oliver, it meant exhausting himself for nothing. He wanted to say so, but what was the point? Daniel wasn't mocking him—he was genuinely offering advice, from his perspective. Trying to explain the gap between them would be useless.
Beside him, Emily let out a quiet sigh and shook her head. "Sorry," she murmured, leaning closer. "Daniel doesn't mean anything by it."
"I know," Oliver replied, giving her a small smile. "It's fine."
He pushed himself to his feet, brushing dirt from his already ruined clothes. "Training's already started. Let's go before we get chewed out."
They walked back to the training grounds as a group. Lisa kept casting glances at him, her brow still furrowed, but Oliver ignored them. He had no intention of showing her—or anyone—just how much the beating had gotten to him.
As they crossed the yard, Oliver let out another quiet sigh, one he hoped no one heard. If this was how the early days were going, his future here didn't look bright at all.