Arin stood at the edge of the training field with dust on his boots and silence in his throat.
The field wasn't much just cracked stone tiles, faded lines, and a few half-buried markers.
Rusted dummies stood in one corner.
A large broken Spirit Tree root hung across the far wall, dead and gray.
Thirty students stood in formation.
They wore clean red training gear, sleeveless with metal plates on the chest and shoulders. Light, but tough.
Arin didn't have the full gear.
His chest plate was chipped.
His shirt was torn at the collar.
One of his boots didn't match.
No one told him where to stand.
So he stood at the edge.
The instructor walked in.
He was tall, broad, gray-haired. Long coat, tight gloves.
A scar ran across his scalp like a burn that never healed.
"Name's Bran Holst," he said. "Combat Basics. If you're here, that means you're either useful… or not."
He looked them over.
His eyes landed on Arin for one second.
Then moved on.
"I don't care what your Talent is. Doesn't matter what your element, weapon, or affinity is. All that shiny trash breaks if your legs snap first. And monsters don't give speeches."
Silence.
"You fight, or you die. You don't move fast, you die. You don't block right, you die. You don't listen, you don't train you die stupid."
He started walking across the line.
"Five minutes warm-up. Then pair drills. Then strikes. Then suppression."
He turned again.
"Who here awakened A-Rank?"
Three hands went up.
One was the blond boy from before Kai, the one who smirked during Awakening.
"Good. You'll lead."
Bran pointed at Kai. "Take the trash. Test your control."
Kai smiled.
His eyes moved to Arin like a hook sinking into a fish.
Arin didn't blink.
He followed Kai and the others to the corner of the field.
One girl elbowed her friend and whispered, "Looks like Kai's getting the dummy."
Another snorted. "Hope he doesn't break it too fast."
Kai stretched his arms lazily. "You've trained before?"
Arin shook his head. "Not officially."
"Right. I can tell."
He cracked his neck and stepped forward.
"No powers. Just suppression techniques. Slow strikes. Basic impact points."
Bran barked from across the field. "Five rounds. Begin!"
Kai didn't wait.
He stepped in fast clean footwork, tight form. Not showy.
Controlled.
His hand hit Arin's chest like a hammer. Not full force, but close.
Arin stumbled back.
The breath left his lungs for half a second.
He caught himself.
Kai grinned. "Too soft?"
"No," Arin said, straightening. "Just unexpected."
Second strike. To the ribs. Lower.
Arin grunted. Took the hit.
Something in his side twitched.
Not pain.
Just a pulse.
Third strike a spinning elbow to the shoulder. Arin twisted with it.
The impact spread through his back like a shiver.
But something was changing.
He could feel it.
The pressure from each hit wasn't just hurting it was soaking in.
Like his muscles were absorbing the impact.
Like the nerves were learning the shape of pain.
Kai stepped back.
"You're not bad," he said. "For a Cradle."
Arin breathed out through his nose.
"You're not strong," he said. "For an A."
A few students laughed. Not loud. But enough.
Kai's smile vanished.
Bran called out. "Next pair!"
They rotated.
Arin ended up facing a heavy-set kid with a beast-core Talent.
Slow fists, but heavy.
Arin blocked two, dodged one, took the last on purpose.
He needed the contact.
Each strike added to the feeling.
Like wires pulling tighter under his skin.
Like the Talent wasn't awakening it was remembering.
Cradle Spark.
A joke Talent.
A trash mutation.
But it was starting to feel like something different.
Something quiet.
Something built for this.
They rotated again.
And again.
Arin stayed silent.
He listened.
Watched.
The way students moved.
The way they overcommitted on punches.
The way they used Spirit Flow to cheat footwork.
The way they didn't feel real pain not yet.
He took every hit.
Let the Cradle Spark collect them.
Absorb them.
The final round came.
Bran raised his voice. "Suppression test. A-Ranks only. Choose your dummies."
Kai raised his hand.
"Taking Arin," he said. "I want to test focus strikes on low-end defense."
Bran nodded. "Go."
Kai stepped in. No delay this time.
He struck fast. Hard. A full-powered palm to Arin's gut.
Arin doubled over.
Then stood up again.
He didn't blink.
Didn't speak.
Kai's mouth twitched.
He struck again. A side kick.
Arin dropped low and let it slide past his shoulder.
Then stood up again.
Kai narrowed his eyes.
"What's with you?"
Arin tilted his head.
"Don't hold back," he said. "I need this."
Kai didn't ask what that meant.
He hit harder.
Three strikes. Chest. Jaw. Stomach.
Arin's body burned.
But it wasn't pain anymore.
It was data.
Cradle Spark was reacting now.
Not just absorbing.
It was… mapping.
Every strike. Every angle. Every pressure point.
Arin's skin felt hot.
His breathing slowed. His vision sharpened.
Then something clicked in his spine.
A small pulse.
Like a match being struck in his back.
Kai stepped in again fast jab to the neck.
Arin moved.
Not by choice.
His arm rose.
Perfect block.
Angle just right.
Kai's hand bounced off his wrist like it hit stone.
Arin blinked.
That hadn't been planned.
Kai blinked too.
"What the hell was that?"
Bran was already walking over.
"Enough."
Kai lowered his hands.
Bran looked at Arin.
"Did you just activate energy?"
Arin opened his mouth.
Closed it.
"I don't think so."
Bran stared for a moment longer.
Then pointed at the bench.
"Sit. No more drills."
Arin nodded.
He sat down.
The fire under his skin faded.
But he felt it.
Clear as day.
Cradle Spark wasn't passive.
It wasn't just some boost to strength.
It learned.
It grew with pain.
And it didn't need mana, chants, or swords.
It needed hits.
And now it had tasted real ones.
It wasn't much.
But it was a start.