As the speech ended, the crowd began to move, streams of newly ranked recruits flowing toward the exit. Michael walked alongside Gideon and Thomas, the noise of overlapping conversations filling the wide corridor.
"So we have to come here again on Monday?" Gideon said with a deep frown. "Did they forget that some of us still have school?"
Thomas was already staring at his phone, scrolling quickly. "Actually… I just saw it now. Looks like while we were inside, everyone who passed got officially excused from school."
Michael glanced at him. "Your information range is really wide."
"Yeah," Gideon added, checking his own phone. "It hasn't even shown up for me yet. How do you already know?"
Thomas shrugged casually. "I just happen to know someone who's good at getting information."
"That sounds suspicious," Michael said flatly.
"Very suspicious," Gideon agreed.
Thomas chuckled. "You guys are really in sync sometimes."
"Don't try to change the topic," Michael and Gideon said at the same time.
"Okay, okay," Thomas laughed. "Relax. He's just my friend next door."
Michael and Gideon stared at him.
"…Really?" Michael asked.
"Really," Thomas replied without hesitation.
Michael studied him for a moment before letting out a small sigh. "Well, if you don't want to say more, let's leave it at that."
"Yeah," Gideon nodded. "It's fine."
Michael was about to speak again when his phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and glanced at the screen.
Smith.
"Ah—I need to take this," Michael said, stepping aside. "Hello?"
"Hey, kid. Good work at the recruitment," Smith said.
"Thanks," Michael replied.
"About the training next week—we're staying nearby. We're not going back home."
Michael stopped walking. "Hey. Don't decide things on your own and then just drop them on me. What about my clothes?"
"Relax. I brought a few of your clothes while you were inside."
Michael sighed deeply. "Of course you did…"
"Come over to the building next to headquarters."
"Yeah, whatever. I'll be there soon."
"No. Come now."
"…Fine," Michael muttered.
He returned to the others. Gideon looked at him expectantly.
"So? You celebrating by playing some games?" Gideon asked.
"Sorry," Michael said. "I have somewhere to be. Just wanted to let you know."
"Ah, really?" Gideon scratched his head. "Guess I'm going alone then."
"Same here," Thomas added. "I can't go either."
"Don't worry about it," Gideon said with a shrug.
They parted ways shortly after.
---
Michael followed Smith's directions until he reached the building. It looked more like a house than a facility—three floors tall, fenced off neatly.
He knocked on the gate.
It opened moments later.
"Oh. Michael," Warren said. "You're here."
"Yeah. Smith told me to come."
"He's inside."
Michael stepped through the gate as Warren closed it behind him. They entered the house together, climbing the stairs in silence.
"So… is this your place?" Michael asked as they went up.
"Yeah."
"Let me guess," Michael said. "Smith just showed up and said we were staying here."
"You're wrong," Warren replied. "He showed up at my training this morning at headquarters and said the same thing."
Michael shook his head slightly. That's Smith.
They reached the upper floor and stepped into a room at the end of the hall.
Inside, the room was simple—almost empty. A blue training mat covered the floor, red markings lined the walls, and Smith sat against one wall scrolling through his phone.
"Well," Smith said, standing up, "you're here. Let's start."
Michael blinked. "Already?"
"First—congratulations on passing. Now we increase your strength," Smith continued calmly. "You'll push your energy to around forty percent. Improve control too. That'll help you boost yourself with Blue and refine your Green usage. Got it?"
"Really?" Michael said. "You want me to do all that without rest—and without warning?"
Smith thought for a moment. "Fine. Sleep first. Then train."
Michael let out a tired sigh.
---
After resting, eating, and returning to the training room, Michael sat cross-legged on the mat.
"Okay…" he muttered. "Let's start with Blue."
He focused.
Blue energy gathered slowly, slipping into his body like cold water. He rotated the core, guiding the flow carefully—but pain followed. His muscles burned, twisted, screamed in protest.
He clenched his teeth.
Over time, unfamiliar sensations surfaced—fragments of instinctive understanding. His mind was flooded with impressions of how the energy should move, how it should circulate, how it should be handled.
"…So this is how," he whispered.
A sudden sense of awe washed over him as the energy surged stronger than before, responding to those memories. His breath caught.
No—focus.
He forced himself to calm down, redirecting the flow. Through the pain, he adjusted the circulation around his body, smoothing the pressure instead of fighting it. The agony didn't vanish—but it became manageable.
Sweat poured down his face as he refined the movement again and again, control improving with every cycle.
Hours passed.
By the next morning, Michael still sat on the mat, blue aura flickering faintly around him. Slowly, it faded. He opened his eyes.
"…Forty-one percent," he murmured. "And my control's better too."
His legs finally gave out as he collapsed onto the bed in his room.
"Ah… that was exhausting."
He pulled out his phone, the screen lighting up with messages.
The group chat with Gideon and Thomas was active—messages flying back and forth about training plans, schedules, and preparation.
They sure like to type, Michael thought.
He raised his phone, about to reply—
The door opened.
Smith stepped inside.
"You trained all night?" Smith said, raising an eyebrow. "Faster than I expected."
"Food's ready downstairs," Smith added. "I helped out since you were busy."
"Thanks," Michael said quietly.
As Smith left, Michael stood up. His body felt… different. Lighter. Stronger.
He reached for the door handle—
It nearly bent.
"What…?"
Michael froze.
I'll ask later. This is weird.
Downstairs, Smith and Warren were already eating.
"Thanks for the food," Michael said.
"No problem," Warren replied.
"Smith… after the training, my body feels way stronger."
"Training talk after food," Smith said.
"…Okay."
Afterward, Smith explained, "When Celestial Energy enters the body, it strengthens it so the body can handle that power. That way, you can use more physical strength even without energy—and far more when you do use it."
Michael listened carefully.
"That's why people don't start at full power," Smith continued. "Most bodies can't handle it."
"So the higher my energy percentage," Michael said, "the stronger my base body becomes?"
"Exactly."
"I understand."
"You'll need to adapt to your new strength," Smith said. "Later, you'll train with me and Warren."
"…Both of you?" Michael sighed. "Warren alone is already hard."
"I'll mostly spectate," Smith replied.
"But you didn't say you wouldn't interfere."
Smith smiled.
"…Great," Michael muttered.
---
Later, Warren spoke quietly. "He's talented. And that energy… it's exceptional."
Smith's expression sharpened. "Check the records. See if it's true."
Warren opened a file on his tablet, scanning carefully. "…It's confirmed."
Smith took a slow breath.
"The strongest type," Smith said. "Blue. The power used by the main hero three hundred years ago."
He clenched his fist.
"…The power of the Hero King."
Smith stared out the window.
"All Hero-class types appearing in one generation…" he murmured. "When even one used to be rare…"
His grip tightened.
"I just hope," he said quietly, "whatever's coming… we can face it."