The system's notification chimed through Dravin's mind like a celestial bell, a sound far sweeter than any music.
[Ding! Defeated an enemy]
[One (1) Lottery Spin has been rewarded!]
He froze mid-step, his foot hovering just above the stone ground.
The adrenaline from the fight vanished, replaced by pure excitement.
He had been wondering, almost despairing, about how he would acquire more lottery spins.
He had assumed they would be tied to quests or major milestones.
The idea that he could earn one simply by defeating a sufficiently powerful enemy would grant him a lottery chance was crazy. He didn't even think about it.
His mind was already racing, dreaming of the heaven-defying treasures the cosmic slot machine would give him!
Another physique-altering fruit? A divine weapon?
Just as his excitement reached its peak, his foot still paused in the air, a sudden chill shot up his spine. It was a sensation of pure, instinctual dread, the feeling of a predator appearing directly behind its prey.
Someone had appeared him without a sound!
Even his level 4 super soldier senses had detected absolutely nothing
He didn't think. He didn't turn. His body, reacted on pure instinct.
He slammed his hovering foot down, and with a muffled 'boom' that cracked the ground, as he launched himself forward, flashing twenty meters down the alley in a single, explosive burst.
He spun around as he landed, his hand already gripping the hilt of his cleaver, his heart beating rapidly against his ribs.
Only then did he see who it was.
Standing in the spot he had just left was a middle-aged man with short, neatly-combed brown hair and a pair of simple, wire-framed glasses.
He wore the standard dark-grey uniform of a Chaotic Star-War Academy instructor. It was Instructor Pearson, the man who had been in charge of the recruit division for the past four months.
Instructor Pearson didn't seem surprised by Dravin's explosive reaction. He simply stood there, his hands clasped behind his back, his expression calm and unreadable. He gave Dravin a brief, assessing side-glance before his gaze shifted to the display on the alley wall.
He stared curiously at the five naked, shivering students, hung up like freshly butchered carcasses, their mouths stuffed with their own underwear.
His eyes lingered for a moment on Klein Reddington's tear-streaked, thoroughly broken face. Then, his gaze returned to Dravin, and a slow, humorous chuckle rumbled in his chest.
"Well now," he said, a wry smile spreading across his face as he shook his head slowly. "I guess I was worrying too much about you."
Dravin remained silent, his body still coiled and ready for action, though the immediate threat had passed.
He was stunned. He had barely interacted with Instructor Pearson during the four months of grueling training.
Aside from the instructor's regular, impersonal combat advice shouted to the entire cohort during morning drills, they had never spoken directly.
To Dravin, Pearson was just a stern, authoritative figure.
He had never expected the man to harbor any personal concern for him.
Instructor Pearson seemed to sense his confusion and elaborated. "Most of the students have already gathered at the Outward Stadium.
As the instructor in charge of this batch of recruits, I naturally know the names and faces of my students like the back of my hand. I noticed you and Mr. Reddington were both absent."
He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his gaze softening slightly. "When you awakened an F-rank talent, Dravin, I saw the look on your face. Most would have been crushed. Many did give up. But you didn't. You stood there, took the mockery, and didn't back down. It was impressive."
He gestured vaguely at the whimpering figures on the wall. "Knowing Klein's arrogant and vindictive behavior, I had a pretty good idea of what was happening in this alley. I intended to intervene, to help you at least this one time, to ensure you made it to the trial. I thought that if you could just pass the exam, you might have a chance, however slim, to change your destiny."
The instructor's voice grew more distant, a hint of melancholy in his tone. "Even if you didn't go far with a low-grade talent, graduating from this academy guarantees a certain quality of life. You wouldn't lack for money. You'd be able to take care of your parents… and your sick little sister."
Dravin's breath hitched. His family situation, especially his sister's chronic illness, was a deeply personal matter. The fact that the instructor knew this, that he had cared enough to look into his background, was a shock.
"But unexpectedly," Instructor Pearson's voice returned to its amused tone, "it seems I was worried for nothing. Not only did you handle the situation, but you did so… thoroughly."
While the scene was cruel, the instructor didn't seem to mind in the slightest. He had seen too much of the real world, the bloody battlefields at the dimensional gates. This world followed the law of the jungle: the strong ruled, and the weak were meat. Klein had tried to prey on what he thought was a weaker animal and had gotten beaten in return. It was a simple, brutal, and just outcome.
Listening to the instructor's words, the tension finally drained from Dravin's body. He straightened up, his hand falling away from his cleaver.
"Thank you, sir. For your kindness," Dravin said, bowing his head slightly in a gesture of genuine respect.
Mr. Pearson waved his hand dismissively. "I didn't do anything but worry unnecessarily. Now, you should head back to the assembly. The entrance exam is about to start."
Dravin nodded, but then hesitated, his gaze shifting back to Klein and his crew. They had noticed the instructor's arrival, and their eyes were wide with desperate hope.
Muffled, frantic moans and shouts emanated from behind their underwear gags as they tried to attract Instructor Pearson's attention. The middle-aged man in glasses, however, simply ignored them as if they were nothing more than grotesque decorations on the wall.
"Don't worry about this mess," Instructor Pearson said, seeing Dravin's hesitation. "You should go first. I… need to attend to some other matters." He waved his hand dismissively again.
Dravin was instantly skeptical. As an instructor, wasn't he supposed to care for all students equally, even the bullies? Wasn't it his duty to help them down and get them medical attention?
As if seeing straight through his thoughts, Instructor Pearson's face split into a wide, mischievous grin. "As of yesterday's ceremony, you've all graduated from being recruits. You are no longer my students."
With a final, hearty laugh, his form flickered and dissolved like a puff of smoke. He vanished from his position, his speed so impossibly fast that Dravin's Rank 4 eyes couldn't even begin to comprehend the movement.
Dravin stared at the empty spot where the man had been, a deep look in his eyes.
He had known the instructors were powerful, but that kind of speed was on another level entirely.
After a moment of contemplation, he turned his back on the whimpering bullies and headed towards the stadium.