(Arin's POV)
Today's class on "The Theory of Magical History" truly felt like the most potent sedative ever concocted by mankind. The elderly lecturer spoke in a constant, monotonous drone, as if he were chanting a mass sleep spell disguised as a lecture on the Goblin War of 400.
I stepped out of the academic building, yawning so widely that my jaw felt stiff. I stretched my back muscles, which screamed in protest after being forced to sit still for three full hours.
Clutched in my hand was a crumpled piece of paper I had just re-read for the third time. The "Final Semester Exam Guidelines" brochure.
"Damn that Robert," I grumbled softly, recalling the lazy face of my annoying homeroom teacher.
That fat teacher had not even bothered to explain the exam details in front of the class. He had merely tossed a stack of these brochures onto the front desk with a sluggish motion and said, "Read it yourself. If you are illiterate, ask a friend to read it to you. Now let me take a nap."
I stared at the key points printed on the paper.
[First Semester Final Exam Structure]
Category Division:
Upper Category: Class S and Class A students.
Lower Category: Class B and Class C students.
Exam Stages:
Stage 1: Written Exam (Basic Theory & Strategy).
Stage 2: Forest Survival (Golem Core Collection).
Stage 3: Team Duel (Format 5 vs 5).
My eyes locked onto the first point. The category separation.
That meant I would not meet Karl Benzzi directly in the arena. He was playing in a different league. The good news was that I did not need to worry about Karl stabbing me in the back while my guard was down. However, the bad news was that I also could not team up with Rose or Elena.
"Five versus five team format," I muttered quietly, weighing my options. "That means my team can only be drawn from Class C or B."
There was only one logical choice, and that was Erika. She was the only person in the lower category who could be trusted and possessed firepower equivalent to Class A. But what about the other members? I doubted anyone else would want to join. My fate was truly pathetic.
"Hey, Celebrity."
A hand landed on my shoulder. I turned and found Rose walking beside me. Her fiery red hair was tied high in a ponytail, swaying in rhythm with her steps. She wore a tight training uniform that accentuated her well-trained athletic muscles.
"Do not call me that, Lady," I complained, putting on a sour face. "Ever since the rumors about the gloves spread, people look at me as if I am wearing underwear on my head."
Rose laughed crisply, her laughter drawing the attention of several passing students. "Just enjoy the popularity, Arin. It is rare for a commoner to become the talk of the entire batch. By the way, are you reading that brochure from hell?"
"Yes. It is a pity we are in different categories," I said while folding the brochure and stuffing it into my pocket. "Even though I planned to hide behind your back until the finals to snag an easy win."
"Tch, do not be so humble," Rose sneered while nudging my arm gently. "You destroyed a Bear with your bare hands, yet you want to hide behind a woman? Where is your pride?"
I just shrugged. "Pride cannot be eaten, Lady."
Rose's face, which had been relaxed, slowly turned a bit serious. She glanced around, ensuring no ears were eavesdropping too closely.
"But Arin... be careful."
"Why? Karl is in the Upper Category. He cannot touch me in the arena."
"Physically in the arena, no. But you know how cunning politics can be, don't you?" Rose lowered her voice, her tone shifting into a warning. "Karl has many 'pet dogs' in Class B. Children of lower nobility who want to curry favor with the Benzzi Family using dirty methods."
Rose stared sharply into my eyes. "In the Survival exam later, the forest is vast. The supervisors cannot see everything. Accidents... happen often in blind spots."
I nodded slowly, realizing the weight of her warning. "I suspected as much. They will definitely try something in the forest."
"It is good that you are aware. Do not die a foolish death there, Arin," Rose threatened with a sweet smile that somehow looked terrifying. "If you die, I will revive you with necromancy just to kill you myself with my own hands."
"Thank you for that incredibly horrifying motivation, Lady," I replied sarcastically.
"Later, Partner! Do not forget to breathe!" Rose waved casually, then turned toward the girls' dormitory with light steps.
I continued my walk toward the special training building. Rose's warning was valid, but right now I had a problem far more urgent than Karl Benzzi's threats.
Money.
I patted the cloth pouch at my waist where the golden gloves given by Duke Edwin were stored. This defective item... might still have some value if sold to the right person. Instructor Brook might be interested in adding to his collection of torture devices.
Not long after, I arrived at Brook's private training arena.
The sound of heavy metal clanging and shouts of spirit filled the air as I stepped inside. The smell of sweat, weapon lubricant, and testosterone wafted strongly here, typical of a place where muscles were forged through pain.
Brook was doing bench presses with a weight that looked heavy enough to crush a horse carriage. The veins in his arms bulged like steel cables. He saw me enter, then set the weight down with a loud thud that shook the floor.
"You are two minutes late, kid," Brook growled as he sat up, wiping the sweat from his bearded face with a small towel.
"Sorry, Instructor. Had a little business on the way," I answered, putting on my best merchant smile. "Speaking of business... I have something that might interest you."
I pulled the golden gloves out of the pouch. The purple crystal on the back of the gloves blinked weakly, as if greeting the world.
Brook raised a thick eyebrow. "What is that? A new toy?"
"Duke Rhyms gave it as a gift. It is a rare prototype with a gravity circuit," I explained quickly, trying to sound convincing like a traveling medicine salesman. "There is indeed a slight... defect where the weight is unstable. But look, this is real gold and Wyvern leather. I thought perhaps you might want to add to your gym equipment collection? I will let it go for a friend's price. Fifty gold coins?"
Fifty gold. That amount was enough to buy the first batch of antibiotic raw materials and some additional lab equipment.
Brook did not answer. He took the gloves with his large, rough hands. He turned them over, examining the stitching meticulously, then tried putting one on his right hand.
"Hmmm. Genuine Wyvern leather. Neat stitching," Brook muttered.
He picked up an iron mace from a nearby weapon rack.
Whoosh.
Brook's hand jerked downward suddenly as the glove's gravity spiked tenfold. The mace slammed into the floor, creating a small crack.
But a second later, when the weight became light again, Brook swung it with lightning speed, slicing through the air with a terrifying swishing sound.
Then he halted it abruptly in mid-air as the weight increased again randomly. His bicep muscles tensed to withstand the drastic change in inertia.
Silence fell for a moment.
All the students training nearby stopped immediately and backed away in fear to the edge of the arena. No one wanted to be within the attack radius of that crazy Dwarf while he was holding an unstable weapon.
I swallowed hard, waiting for Brook to get angry and throw that trash in my face for nearly breaking his wrist.
But what happened was quite the opposite.
The corners of Brook's lips lifted slowly. A wide grin that I recognized very well and feared was carved onto his bearded face. His eyes sparkled, not because he saw gold, but like a child looking at a fun new toy.
"Selling it?" Brook chuckled low. His laughter sounded heavy and dark.
He took off the glove and tossed it back to my chest.
Thud.
"Wear it," he ordered briefly.
I caught it in confusion. "Huh? But Instructor, I want to sell it. I need cash. Besides, this thing is dangerous to use for training. If the gravity changes while I am lifting weights, my bones could snap."
"Exactly," Brook replied, standing tall before me. A burning red Aura began to envelop his body, causing the room temperature to rise drastically.
"In a real fight, the enemy will not give you a consistent load, Arin! They will parry your sword, press down on your weapon, deflect your attack direction!"
Brook picked up a dull practice sword and pointed to the center of the arena with its tip.
"Besides, you have a serious problem with your power control and balance, don't you? You often get thrown by your own strength. This toy is perfect for your training. Haha."
"Yes... you are not wrong about the control. But why is such crazy training necessary?" I asked doubtfully. "This is called torture, not training."
"If you get used to static loads, you will die when you meet an agile spear user or a wind manipulator. But..." Brook grinned even wider, revealing his teeth. "If you can swing a sword without losing balance while the gravity changes randomly every second... your muscle reflexes will become monstrous."
I swallowed hard. His logic was very sound and undeniable. But the image of my body being tossed around by sudden gravity changes made my stomach churn.
"B-but the Final Exam is only a week away! I need technical training that matures my form, not a circus act!" I protested, taking a step back.
Brook did not care about my protest. He pointed toward a pile of wooden swords with his chin.
"Stop talking. Wear those gloves. Swing your sword a thousand times vertically. Now!"
"A thousand?!" I shrieked. "Instructor, my arms will fall off!"
"And listen closely," Brook continued in a sadistic tone, ignoring my complaints. "If you fall even once due to losing balance... I will tell the mage over there to double the gravity load of those gloves tomorrow."
I stared at the golden gloves in my hand with a desperate look. This object was not a trading asset but handcuffs from hell. My initial intention was to find business capital, but I ended up getting a free ticket to torture.
"Now! Or shall I increase it to two thousand?!" Brook barked, his voice booming like thunder.
"Damn you, Duke Rhyms," I cursed softly while putting on the gloves with resignation. "Damn all of you who have these crazy ideas."
And that afternoon, my screams of frustration became the background music in Brook's training arena, accompanying the setting sun with misery.