In a private training zone nearby, the simulated environment of a lush forest had become a graveyard of timber.
Thick trunks lay splintered and scattered, felled by something impossibly sharp and violently powerful.
BOOM!
The thunderous crack of wood echoed through the artificial valley as another massive tree toppled. As the cloud of sawdust and grit settled, a monstrous silhouette emerged.
A black wolf, nearly two meters tall, stood amidst the debris.
Its maw was lined with serrated, dagger-like teeth, and its paws ended in curved talons that gripped the earth like iron hooks.
Slowly, the beast's form shimmered and retracted.
The fur receded, the bones shifted with sickening crunches, until Fenrir stood in its place, gasping for air.
His chest heaved, sweat drenching his skin as he stared at the carnage he had wrought. He wasn't satisfied.
Every time he closed his eyes, he heard Isolde's mocking voice calling him a "lone dog" from the wilderness.
The sting of her words fueled his rage, and he channeled that bitterness into every strike, every transformation.
'In the Hunters trial, I will crush her,' Fenrir vowed, his fists trembling.
'I'll show them all who truly stands at the top.'
But as his anger simmered, another image flickered in his mind—an image that refused to be clawed away. He saw a pair of eyes.
They were cold, stagnant, and deep, like a bottomless abyss that swallowed the very concept of light.
Ashfei.
The name was plain, almost unremarkable, yet it carried the weight of an invisible terror.
Fenrir had felt a chill in his blood when those gray eyes settled on him, a sensation of being scrutinized by something that wasn't entirely human.
"I will surpass you too, Ashfei,"
Fenrir spat, the words a low growl in the empty room. With a sharp exhale, he lunged forward again, resuming his rhythmic devastation of the forest.
Ash's POV
A sharp, searing throb behind my eyelids forced me to shut it down.
I exhaled slowly, leaning my forehead against the cool shaft of the wooden spear. Five minutes. That was the threshold.
I didn't know exactly how long the cooldown would be, but the lingering ache suggested that pushing past this limit would be a one-way trip to permanent blindness.
Still, five minutes was a lifetime compared to the helpless boy I had been just weeks ago. I wasn't that weak shadow anymore, the one who could only run and pray for a miracle.
Now, I had the means to strike. If I could see the fracture lines, the "blue dots" of a creature's weakness, I could kill.
Next, I turned my focus to [Adaptation].
This skill remained an enigma. I activated it, waiting for a surge of power or a change in my senses, but there was nothing—just a quiet humming in the back of my mind. I kept it running in the background, curious to see if it had a duration limit.
Twenty minutes passed.
The throbbing in my eyes finally receded into a dull hum. Twenty minutes of rest for five minutes of sight, I noted. A steep price, but manageable.
I approached a fresh wooden dummy, ready to test a theory that had been gnawing at my curiosity.
Up until now, I had been using [Eyes of the Void] like a wide-angle lens, taking in the entire environment.
But what if I narrowed the focus? What if I poured every ounce of my intent into a single point?
I fixed my gaze on the dummy's chest. The world around me began to bleed into darkness. The peripheral vision of the forest faded until there was only me and the target.
The scattered blue dots—the general weaknesses—started to vanish, flickering out one by one.
Then, a single, brilliant crimson spark ignited on the left side of the dummy's chest.
A red dot.
I didn't stop to analyze it. My body moved on instinct, fueled by the cold vacuum of the Void.
I lunged, driving the spear forward with a precision I didn't know I possessed.
THWACK—CRACK!
The spear didn't just hit the dummy; it vanished into it.
The tip erupted from the back of the reinforced wood, splintering the exit point. A notification pinged on my watch:
[Target Destroyed. Would you like to summon a replacement?]
I tapped "No" with a trembling hand. As I pulled the spear out, I stared at the hole. It was a perfect, lethal puncture.
"Arg..."
I clutched my eyes, gasping as a white-hot sensation burned through my skull. I deactivated the skill immediately.
This "Critical Point" vision was devastating, but the strain was immense. I could only hold it for thirty seconds, and the aftermath was brutal.
I collapsed onto the simulated grass, staring up at the artificial sky.
My eyes felt like they had been rubbed with glass shards. I'd have to wait at least thirty minutes this time for the pain to fade.
'Weak points and critical points...' I mused, my breath hitching.
'What else is hidden in these eyes? And what about [Adaptation]? I've had it on for nearly an hour and I feel nothing. No drain, no change.'
Then there was [Void Soul], the skill that masked my very existence. It was a passive shield, yet it made me feel like an anomaly even to myself.
I let out a long, weary sigh—a sound that had become my most frequent companion since leaving the Door.
"Too many questions," I muttered.
"And not enough time."
I decided I had done enough for the morning. I gathered my things and exited the training room. As I stepped into the observation lobby, the door to the adjacent room hissed open.
Riven stepped out. She was drenched in sweat, her training gear clinging to her frame, highlighting the athletic, graceful curves of her waist.
In the eighteen years of my life and the few days I'd spent in the city center, I hadn't seen many women, but I knew she was striking—a sharp, dangerous kind of beauty.
I felt a faint flicker of appreciation, but it was quickly extinguished by my own apathy. I wasn't looking for a connection, let alone a complication.
Riven noticed me and paused. Her expression was unreadable, her eyes searching mine with an intensity that made me uncomfortable.
She regained her composure quickly, but her next words caught me off guard.
"You... you're incredibly strong, aren't you?"
I stared at her, my expression a mask of indifference. I didn't know how to answer. If we were talking about raw, physical power, I was likely the weakest in the room. I remained silent, choosing to let the void between us speak for me.
Riven took my silence as a confirmation. Her gaze hardened, a competitive fire igniting in her eyes.
"Fine. Then prepare yourself. I'm going to be the one to take you down in the Hunters trial."
She didn't wait for a response. She turned on her heel and marched out of the hall.
'Great,' I thought, a mental groan echoing in my head.
'I thought she was the normal one. Turns out, everyone in Class 001 is a headache.'
I didn't realize that from the moment we met, she had sensed the "wrongness" in me—the predatory aura of the Void that I couldn't quite hide.
To a girl who lived for strength, I wasn't a classmate; I was a wall that needed to be scaled.
I made my way back toward the living quarters, intending to wash off the grime of the morning.
As I entered the common area, I saw a slender figure tucked away in the corner of the library. Lyra was sitting amidst a fortress of thick, leather-bound books.
She looked more like a scholar than a warrior. Curious, I approached her. She was reading so intently that she didn't notice my shadow falling over her pages.
The midday sun streamed through the high windows, bathing her in a soft, ethereal glow.
She looked like a fragile porcelain doll forgotten in a temple of knowledge—ethereal, silent, and hauntingly beautiful.
When she finally noticed me, she looked up, her violet-gray eyes widening slightly. It was rare for me to initiate a conversation.
"Is something the matter, Classmate Ashfei?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.
The word 'Cute' flashed through my mind.
I immediately felt a surge of annoyance at my own brain. Snap out of it, I scolded myself.
"Just wondering what you're reading," I said, my voice flat.
She held up the cover: History of the Aegis Academy.
"I'm studying the archives for the theoretical exam," she explained softly.
"Would you like to join me?"
Her voice was like silk, a gentle invitation that felt strangely dangerous to my resolve to stay isolated.
For a second, her sheer innocence felt like a physical attack on my apathy. I shook my head, keeping my face stoic.
"No. I was just curious. Carry on. I need to get back."
I turned and walked away without looking back. Behind me, I heard a whisper so faint I almost missed it.
"Ashfei... you look so empty."
I didn't stop. I couldn't afford to wonder what she meant.
Back in the dorm, I found Kairos and Leo buried in their own books. Leo was patiently explaining a complex diagram to Kairos, who looked like he was about to have a meltdown.
"Ahhh! This is impossible! My brain is melting, Leo! I don't want to study anymore!"
Kairos wailed, collapsing backward onto his bed.
'I take it back,' I thought.
'They aren't that diligent.'
Leo sighed, adjusting his glasses.
"You should focus, Kairos. This exam won't be easy." He looked up and nodded to me. I returned the gesture.
"I know, I know," Kairos groaned, rolling over to look at me. He sat up with a sudden burst of energy, a grin plastered on his face.
"Hey, Ash! Done with training? Kael and Fenrir are still in there, probably trying to kill the floor."
"I'm done," I replied.
"Just here to shower before lunch."
I headed into the bathroom. It was a sterile, communal space with six showers—enough for all the boys in the class.
After a long, hot scrub, I changed into the clothes I had bought during my two days in the city center. All black. It felt right.
When I stepped back out, Kael and Fenrir had returned. Kael didn't say a word; he simply went about his business with a disciplined silence.
Fenrir, on the other hand, was glaring at me with an intensity that could have bored holes through steel.
I felt a familiar weariness.
'What did you guys even think about while you were hitting those trees?'
We spent the rest of the day in a repetitive cycle: eating, training, eating, sleeping.
The tension in the room was a living thing, thick and suffocating.
And so, the second day came to a close.