Casia had barely been training alone for a while when a stream of students entered through the main gate—all from the Second-Star Academy. Every week at this time, they came to train. Compared to the Third-Star Academy, the differences weren't just in the number of inhibitory tubes; resource allocation from the military was also markedly unequal.
"Hey, brother, there you are again," said a familiar voice. Many students in the military academy were massive, like bears or bulls, but a significant number had average physiques, often appearing as aristocratic young masters.
Before Casia stood a boy with smooth, fair skin and ordinary build, but a much more pleasing face than Casia's. His hair was grayish-white, his cheeks rounded rather than angular. He wore training attire similar to Casia's, wielding a slender rapier.
"Kelsen, you're later than usual today," Casia said, still swinging his steel sword. After countless strikes, he finally felt a faint warmth spreading through his body.
Kelsen sighed and approached one of Casia's training dummies. Though the tip of his rapier had been blunted, every thrust revealed immense hidden power. The dummy groaned with each strike, metal echoing as loudly as Casia's sword.
"Not everyone trains as fast as you," Kelsen said, his eyes fixed on the mocking dummy. The rapier became a black blur, striking repeatedly at the dummy's chest. "I've fired plenty of guns as a mercenary, but we were dirt-poor mercs. Buying quality ammo was impossible, ordinary ammo too expensive. Kids like me, running behind guns, shooting a few times a day was a lot. So, in firearms training, we're inferior to aristocratic kids who had private tutors. Wild kids like me only had our bodies as a base advantage."
He thrust over a thousand times, breathing heavily. "You're different. Your watch repair skills gave you a solid foundation for training. Today, my speed and accuracy were still among the top, and the coach seemed to have expectations for me."
Mercenary kids, like Kelsen, were often orphans taken in by kind-hearted veterans. They ran with mercenary squads, ate mercenary rations, and performed mercenary work. Some survived to adulthood; others died young, buried along the roadside.
Those who survived were sometimes adopted by families or corporations. They received training, money, and education in return for loyalty and potential future service. Kelsen was one such prioritized student—his success would benefit the family or corporation supporting him.
Casia and Kelsen trained in perfect rhythm. They had met a few weeks prior during sword drills, when Casia was honing his techniques alone and Kelsen had sought a sparring partner. Dummies were lifeless—they taught precision, not combat experience—so real practice with a partner was invaluable.
At that time, Casia had endured solo drills under Ye Jielin, whose first-phase strength neared a ton. Each of her strikes whistled through the air. With his inhibitory tubes, Casia's strength reached only two-thirds of hers, and disparities in speed and reaction became apparent.
Second-Star Academy students generally had six to eight inhibitory tubes—some were impressive, but overall far weaker than Third-Star Academy students. Military school entrance scores weren't arbitrary.
Once both men were fully warmed up, Casia switched to a standard rapier. Training required proficiency in multiple cold weapons, as the battlefield offered countless corpses and weapon types. Firearms could fail in harsh conditions; cold weapons never faltered.
Casia specialized in the steel sword, secondarily the rapier. Every movement—strikes, continuous thrusts, footwork, breathing—had become instinct under high-intensity training. The students' packed schedules were designed to ensure survival during missions.
Both men's rapiers became near-invisible shadows during full-speed thrusts. Every second, they targeted eyes, throat, heart, groin, arteries, and joints, achieving thirty strikes per second. Steel clashed, sparks flying from friction as blades collided.
Casia's repeated attacks were blocked by Kelsen. He retreated, relying on solid defense and processing information from prior sparring to anticipate strikes. As one wave of attacks failed, the next required guarding against Kelsen's counter.
The rapier in front accelerated. Casia assumed a perfect defensive stance, black eyes tracking every subtle movement. His blade shifted to parrying, redirecting each fast strike.
An opening appeared. Casia exploited Kelsen leaning forward to speed up an attack. Sliding sideways, he thrust when his rapier aligned with Kelsen's, stopping centimeters from Kelsen's chest.
"Alright, let's call this one a draw," Kelsen said, smiling, his rapier also poised at Casia's heart. His previous attack hadn't used full strength; the redirection allowed a follow-up thrust.
"Of course," Casia exhaled, retracting his blade. His mind was already analyzing the duel. Kelsen, raised as a mercenary, favored the rapier. Holding him to a draw reflected months of persistent training. A feint had momentarily fooled Casia, a mistake to remember.
Hours passed quickly. Casia wiped sweat, returning his steel sword to the rack. Kelsen reported to a coach. Extra drills ended; the evening brought physical conditioning in subzero winds, wearing short sleeves to improve endurance for extreme conditions—a graduation standard to be achieved within three years as per military directives.
The campus pathways were busier now. After a heavy meal, Casia returned to his dorm. Ye Jielin was there, hair half-dried, standing in the doorway enjoying the school's cool air. Her cold tolerance was high, enhanced further by surgery.
"You're finally back. I thought you'd train longer," she said, adjusting her hair. "About the advanced combat exercise—they've released details. You'd better check it out."