"I'm breaking up with you."
The words echoed in the silent room.
Liam stared at Isabella. Her smile cracked, giving way to soft sobs.
"You're never there when I need you," she whispered, locking eyes with him. "You make me feel… unloved."
Liam sighed.
"Cut the bullshit, Isabella." His face was flat. "Why are you really breaking up with me?"
She chuckled, raising her hands in mock surrender.
"Alright, you got me. I started seeing someone else."
Liam nodded slowly.
"Someone I know?"
"Probably." She smiled with just her upper lip.
He frowned.
"From my year or yours?"
(Isabella is a year above him, a second-year senior.)
"Gosh, no." She laughed. "A Senior."
Liam's face eased.
She tilted her head, teasing.
"Does that make you feel better?"
He gave a small nod.
"Shame, though." She sighed playfully. "Just when you finally grew a pair."
Liam rolled his eyes.
"Isn't he going to be bothered with…" he gestured around the room, "…this?"
Her grin widened.
"Who said it was a he?"
***
After Isabella left, Liam still had four hours before school started.
He decided to go for a run, then train a little to clear his head.
Unlike the academy's training grounds, Aries Hall's was more of an open field.
It still had private and specialized training rooms—something most dorms didn't—but it wasn't nearly as advanced as the academy's, nor did it have recovery runes carved into its walls.
Liam ran laps, lungs burning, before moving to sword drills. Unlike the battle axe, the sword flowed through him like second nature. Years of training left his movements sharp and deliberate.
His style, the Pillar Fang, was a tier 4 art. Not the Duncairn family's famous tier 6 inheritance—he wasn't heir, so he wasn't qualified—but still formidable. It taught him to hold ground, redirect, and counter with precision. A style built not for flash but for survival. The Duncairns weren't nobles because of wealth, but because in war, they never broke.
Thack! Thack! Thack!
The training doll advanced, wooden blade striking. Liam planted his feet wide, sword vertical like a wall, deflecting blow after blow.
This wasn't the E-rank version he fought before. He'd raised it to D-rank. And D-rank hit hard.
The doll pressed forward. Liam slashed sideways, his blade humming as it checked the advance. He tried to knock its weapon away, but the machine's grip was unyielding.
Sweat dripped down his jaw.
The doll struck again. Liam stomped, mana bursting from his foot. The shockwave staggered the doll just long enough for him to thrust straight for its chest.
Clang! The strike was parried.
Steel rang against steel as they clashed thirty times in quick succession. Liam's arms burned. Then—an opening. He redirected a strike, forcing the doll to overextend.
'Got you—'
He thrust.
But the doll twisted unnaturally fast and launched a flying kick into his stomach.
BAAAAAM!
Liam's body slammed into the floor, skidding meters back.
"Arghhh!" He coughed, groaning. "Why is it always kicking?!"
He forced himself up, sword trembling in his grip. And went again.
For twenty more minutes, he fought like that—defend, counter, kicked across the room, repeat—until his body throbbed from bruises.
Finally, he switched to the double axes.
He wasn't as skilled with them yet. After all, he'd only started training with axes recently and didn't even have a proper battle art for them. Still, he had one in mind. He just needed to raise his proficiency enough to qualify for its inheritance trial.
Until then, he relied on tutorial videos uploaded by past seniors. Buying a proper art from the school was possible, but with his limited merit points, it would bleed him dry. Between training, fares, and food, his wallet was already crying.
Thudd!
Liam hit the floor again, gasping for breath. Unlike with his sword, the axe gave him trouble absorbing shock. Every clash rattled through his arms, numbing them.
After a short rest, he got back up.
"Engage your core. Abs, obliques, lower back…" he muttered like a mantra from the vids.
The doll rushed. Liam blocked, parried, twisted his torso—and instantly felt the difference. The force rolled through him, redirected instead of slamming straight into bone.
"Hah!" He grinned. "Finally working!"
He went for a counter. The doll kicked him in the gut.
Again.
Liam wheezed on the floor.
"I swear to god, this thing has a foot fetish…"
Cursing, he pushed up again, refusing to quit. But the doll dismantled him every time. He pressed harder, hacking wildly, but ended up sprawled on the floor again.
By the time three hours passed, his whole body was jelly. Other students began trickling into the grounds for light warmups.
He checked his band. Thirty minutes till class. Enough time to wash, barely. He staggered off.
***
On the train, regret slammed into him as hard as the doll's kicks.
"Does my so-called regeneration even do anything?" he muttered, wincing.
He scrolled through his band. His schedule popped up.
Physical Conditioning – Basic Combat Training.
First class of the day.
"…I really didn't think this through." He groaned, facepalming.
"Julian!"
The shout snapped him out of his misery. Students around him were whispering, craning their necks.
Liam followed their stares.
At the far end stood three figures.
A boy too handsome for his own good—dark hair, golden eyes, heroic posture. Beside him, a girl with golden hair and eyes that glowed like divinity, radiating an untouchable aura. On his other side, a sapphire-eyed beauty whose smile was mischievous and alive.
The train car seemed to tilt toward them, as if everyone else faded into the background.
Julian Cross. Celeste Benedara. Cecilia D'Argent.
Liam's jaw tightened.
"Of course. The golden trio."
Julian was the novel's golden boy, and the world bent for him. Celeste wasn't just beautiful; looking at her felt wrong, like staring too long at holy light. Cecilia—the loyal childhood friend, bound to Julian by tragedy—completed the picture.
The whispers around Liam buzzed:
"Is that Julian Cross?"
"He's even more perfect in person…"
"Look at Celeste, she's unreal…"
Liam pinched the bridge of his nose. 'Kill me now.'
"We're going to be late because of you," Cecilia scolded.
"You're making a scene, Cecil," Celeste said gently.
"Didn't mean to. Lost track of time training," Julian replied smoothly.
"That's not an excuse," Cecilia pouted.
Liam swore he heard Julian mutter, "You could've just gone without me." Cecilia huffed.
He shut his eyes and sighed deeply.
For the sake of his sanity, he tuned them out. First period was already going to be hell.