Leon woke before dawn again, but today the air felt different.
Not tense.
Not heavy.
Focused.
The warning Torrin left last night stayed fresh in his mind—not because it frightened him, but because it clarified something important:
The upcoming assessment wasn't a test.
It was an ambush wearing official colors.
That only meant one thing—
He needed to grow faster.
When he stepped out into the cold courtyard, he expected silence.
Instead, someone was already there.
Instructor Varron stood in the middle of the training field with his arms crossed, cloak fluttering in the morning breeze. His expression wasn't angry today—just sharp, as if he'd been waiting specifically for Leon.
"Good," Varron said. "You're early."
Leon stopped in front of him. "Why are you here?"
Varron didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he tossed a mana stone at Leon.
Leon caught it.
The mana stone pulsed faintly—too weak to replenish him fully, but good for bursts.
Varron finally said, "You were visited last night."
Leon didn't flinch.
So he knew.
Varron continued, voice low, "Torrin Vale doesn't warn people without reason. He is strict—but not a liar. Whatever he told you… treat it seriously."
Leon nodded once. "I will."
Varron took a step forward, gaze like steel. "Your assessment has been manipulated. Someone placed you in the upper-year category. Someone wants to see you pushed, broken, or exposed."
Leon didn't look surprised.
Varron added, "The academy won't interfere unless someone dies. And even then, punishments will vary depending on who starts it."
Damian—who had been hiding behind a pillar—shrieked, "I HATE THIS SCHOOL!"
Varron ignored him. "Leon. Do you understand what this means?"
Leon answered calmly, "I need to be stronger."
Varron smiled faintly. "Good. Then let's start."
He clapped once.
The ground shifted.
No—something emerged.
A training golem rose from the dirt—stone limbs grinding as it took shape. Its body towered over Leon, twice his size, runes glowing across its chest.
Damian screamed, "THAT'S NOT A TRAINING TOOL! THAT'S EXECUTION!"
Varron gestured to the golem. "This is a combat-grade simulation construct. High durability. Mana-infused core. Good for real battle experience."
The golem raised its stone arms, heavy enough to crush a man.
Leon tightened his grip on his daggers.
"Fight it," Varron said.
No countdown.
No warning.
The golem charged immediately, swinging a massive arm downward.
Leon jumped back—the blow cracked the earth where he had stood.
Damian screamed again.
Leon didn't wait.
He moved in—swift steps, closing distance, aiming his dagger at the golem's shoulder joint.
The blade scraped stone—sparks flew.
Too durable.
The golem retaliated with a sweeping strike.
Leon ducked under it, rolled, and slashed its leg.
Another scrape.
Minor damage.
Varron called out, "Normal strikes won't work. Use what you have!"
Leon exhaled.
Mana stirred.
"Mana Blade."
A blue arc of mana sliced through the golem's arm, leaving a glowing cut in the stone. Not deep—but real damage.
The golem roared with grinding gears and swung with twice the speed.
Leon moved.
Not fast enough.
The golem's arm clipped his shoulder, sending him crashing into the dirt.
Damian shrieked, "LEOOON!! VARRON, YOU MONSTER—"
Leon rose instantly, dust falling from his clothes.
Varron nodded, impressed. "Pain tolerance is high. Good. Again."
The golem charged.
Leon didn't retreat this time.
He rushed forward, daggers low, feet steady.
The golem slammed down—
Leon sidestepped—
Mana Blade—
the blue crescent dug deeper this time.
Another strike.
Another dodge.
Another Mana Blade.
But every cast drained his stamina. His mana pulsed unevenly—Mana Blade refinement wasn't enough to cut stone easily.
Varron saw the struggle.
"Leon! Don't rely on strength. Rely on angles!"
Leon adjusted instantly.
Instead of slashing the chest, he targeted joints—
the wrist,
the elbow,
the inner knee.
Even solid stone had weaknesses.
Mana Blade bit deeper now, carving notches into the joints. The golem staggered, movements slowing.
Leon landed behind it and struck its spine.
Crack.
The golem collapsed to one knee.
Damian fainted.
Leon readied another strike—
But Varron raised a hand.
"Enough."
The golem froze, runes dimming.
Leon lowered his daggers, breathing heavy but controlled.
Varron approached, hands behind his back. "Good. Better than expected. Again tomorrow."
Leon nodded.
Damian woke up groaning, "Leon… your training is crueler than most death sentences…"
Leon ignored him.
Varron added, "There is something else."
Leon waited.
"The Royal Observation Token," Varron said quietly. "Don't underestimate it."
Leon's eyes narrowed.
"It tracks your growth," Varron continued, "but it also restricts you. Once you become too dangerous, the Council may intervene, whether to protect you… or to control you."
Damian gasped. "Control him?! He's a person!!"
Varron didn't deny it.
Leon absorbed everything without blinking.
Varron said the final words like a warning:
"Grow strong—but not too fast. Grow fast—but not recklessly. Balance matters."
Leon nodded once. "I understand."
Varron stepped away. "Good. Then go meditate. I'll send someone for the next stage."
Leon walked toward a quiet segment of the yard.
But halfway there—
he stopped.
Something tugged at his talent.
A faint pulse.
An instinct.
Luck whispering something.
Someone was watching.
He turned his head slowly.
In the far distance—beyond the courtyard, behind the old archway—
he sensed a presence.
Not a student.
Not an instructor.
Someone hiding.
Studying him.
An unknown silhouette.
Damian looked confused. "Leon? What's wrong?"
Leon didn't answer.
The presence vanished seconds later—like smoke dissolving in the air.
But Leon's instincts had already marked it.
Someone dangerous was watching.
Not from the academy.
Not from the Council.
Someone entirely new.
He clenched his dagger.
The assessment was a trap.
But this—
This was something else.
Something bigger.
Luck pulsed again—warning him.
The world around him was changing.
And the first collision was coming.