Adrian was inside the gymnasium—not as an observer, but as a participant.

It was time for the monthly training session—an important part of staff protocol at the academy. Every teacher, professor, and instructor had to undergo regular physical assessments to ensure they were fit enough to defend both themselves and their students if the time ever came.

Skipping wasn’t an option.

Anyone who underperformed was forced into special training—a dreaded regime known for its punishing intensity and time-consuming drills. Worse, a low score meant salary cuts and shorter vacations.

No one wanted that.

This month’s test? Hand-to-hand combat.

Adrian, like the others, wore the regulation training gear—a fitted bodysuit with a zipper at the back. The stretchable fabric hugged his frame but allowed him complete freedom of movement. His long hair was tied up in a rough bun, and he had left his glasses back in his office.

Unsurprisingly, his presence caught attention. Whispers rippled across the gym floor as other teachers spared him long, curious glances. But Adrian ignored them all, quietly doing his stretches on the side.

He wasn’t new to this.

To say he was unprepared would be an insult. He worked out regularly, though his sparring sessions with Ariana had become rare lately. Still, that didn’t mean he had forgotten how to fight.

He knew his limits. He wouldn’t expect to win against a battle-hardened warrior—but he certainly wouldn’t embarrass himself either.

“So… how should we do the matchups?” asked Professor Gilbert, glancing around.

Rose was about to speak when an unexpected voice echoed through the gym.

“So you’ve all gathered this early in the morning.”

The hall fell still in an instant. Every head turned toward the entrance—except for Adrian, who looked up calmly.

The woman who walked in held power in her every step.

“Good morning, Headmistress,” the instructors and professors greeted, voices nearly in sync.

Ariana gave a subtle nod. “At ease.”

Her gaze paused on Adrian, thoughtful, before shifting to the others. “So… how are you deciding the matches?”

Before anyone could answer, a man stepped forward.

“I was about to invite Professor Adrian for a spar. If he doesn’t mind, that is.”

Adrian’s brows lifted slightly. The speaker was Rylie—the instructor in charge of the first years. His tone was polite, his smile friendly… but Adrian saw it clearly. The fire in his eyes. The challenge.

Ah. So this wasn’t random.

Adrian didn’t need to guess why. Ariana.

Still, a challenge was a challenge. He wasn’t the type to back down.

“Sure,” he replied without hesitation.

“E-Eh? But… is that a good idea?” said Norma, clearly concerned. “Professor Adrian is a professor, and Sir Rylie is an instructor…”

Traditionally, matches were balanced—professor vs. professor, instructor vs. instructor. It kept things fair.

But Rylie wasn’t interested in the fair.

“On the battlefield, you don’t get to choose your opponent, Madame Norma,” he said firmly.

A few nodded in agreement.

Adrian gave Norma a gentle smile. “It’s alright, Miss Norma.”

Then he turned slightly—his eyes meeting Ariana’s.

Her expression was calm, but he saw the quiet concern behind it.

Worried, huh?

He smiled inwardly. You’re underestimating me now?

Without another word, Adrian stepped into the arena.

The room buzzed with anticipation. The match hadn’t even started, but tension hung in the air like a drawn bowstring.

Adrian rolled his shoulders once and exhaled deeply.

Rose stepped forward as the referee. There was no need to dictate the rules since both parties were aware of the boundaries they shouldn’t cross.

The duo took their stance.

Rose lifted her hand.

Glanced at both men and then, “Begin!”

They moved.

Adrian struck first, a left jab snapping out like a bullet. Rylie deflected with a forearm parry, returning a sharp elbow to the jaw—but Adrian ducked, twisted, and slammed a kick into Rylie’s thigh.

Thud.

Rylie winced—but only barely. His counter came fast: a hook aimed for Adrian’s ribs. Adrian caught it. Twisted. Launched a knee into Rylie’s side.

Smack.

A cheer broke out from one of the junior instructors watching. Adrian was holding his own.

Ariana too, secretly clenched her fist in joy.

But Rylie grinned.

The tempo shifted.

Suddenly, Rylie blurred forward, a brutal uppercut crashing against Adrian’s guard and forcing him back. Before Adrian could find footing, a spinning backkick smashed into his shoulder, sending him skidding across the floor.

Ariana bit her lip and a few gasped at that.

He grunted, rolled, and sprang back up, breathing hard. His lip was cut. But his eyes burned bright.

He surged forward again. Jab. Low kick. Feint—then right cross.

Rylie leaned back, just enough to let the punch skim past his cheek—then he snapped forward, landing a blistering straight punch to Adrian’s chest that echoed through the gym.

Adrian staggered back.

“Keep moving!” a teacher shouted from the side.

Adrian obeyed. He lunged, twisted around a counter, and threw Rylie to the floor with a hip toss. The gym gasped.

But Rylie didn’t even grunt. He hit the mat, rolled with it, and came back up like a spring—and now his expression was different. Sharper. Focused.

He stopped playing.

The next flurry was vicious. Rylie surged like a storm—punches crashing into Adrian’s arms, legs, and ribs, each strike faster and heavier than the last. Adrian blocked two. Dodged a third. But the fourth—

Crack!

A knee pierced through his guard and slammed into his stomach. He doubled over—but forced a palm strike upward into Rylie’s chin.

Rylie took it. His head snapped back. But then—

WHAM!

A spinning elbow caught Adrian flush across the face.

Blood sprayed.

He stumbled, barely catching himself.

Ariana nearly moved on instincts but then stopped herself.

She shouldn’t interfere with his battle.

Back in the arena, Rylie closed the gap instantly. A sweep took Adrian’s legs, and he crashed down hard. He tried to rise—but Rylie grabbed him by the collar and drove a punch into his ribs. Then another.

Adrian’s arms were shaking. He raised his guard—but Rylie’s strength was overwhelming now.

One more shot—

Boom!

A straight kick to the sternum lifted Adrian off the floor.

He collapsed, breath ragged, arms trembling.

The teachers didn’t speak. One of them instinctively stepped forward—but the referee held him back, eyes narrowed.

Adrian’s vision blurred. His body ached. Every breath felt like fire scraping through his chest.

He knew the truth.

He couldn’t win against a man like Rylie—someone who had trained his entire life as a warrior.

And yet…

“I suggest you surrender, Mister Adrian,” Rylie said, his voice calm, almost kind. “You’ve already put up a good fight.”

There was no cruelty in his tone—but the pride was unmistakable.

Adrian didn’t respond right away. He took a slow breath, fighting the sting in his ribs as he pushed himself up from one knee.

His arms rose. Fists clenched and cocked before his chest.

He smiled, lips bloodied.

“I can do this all day.”

Ariana’s eyes widened.

That line—

A flash from the past hit her like lightning. A memory buried deep snapped forward into the present. Her lips parted in disbelief.

“That fool…” she whispered.

Rylie’s jaw tightened. He dropped into a stance.

“Then…” he muttered, voice steady, “I’ll honor your bravery.”

He vanished.

In a blur of motion, he crossed the mat like a ghost, appearing right in front of Adrian within a heartbeat. His fist cocked—

A vicious jab aimed at Adrian’s temple.

But in that fraction of a second, Adrian’s lips moved.

A silent chant.

A spell he had read just days ago. He hadn’t even mastered it. Only studied it out of curiosity. A spell meant to strengthen the body and sharpen reflexes.

A spell only acolytes were supposed to use.

And yet—

*Duck*

Adrian’s head dipped at the perfect moment. The jab flew over his shoulder like wind.

Then—

CRACK!

Adrian’s fist shot up like a piston and slammed into Rylie’s chin with a force no one saw coming.

DHAK!

The sound echoed like a whip crack across the gym.

Gasps rang out as Rylie’s body lifted from the ground.

He flew.

Not stumbled. Not fell.

He flew—his frame rising in an arc, arms flailing as shock overtook his face.

And then—

THUD!

He crashed to the mat on the far end of the arena, landing hard.

Silence.

Wide eyes.

Open mouths.

Not a soul moved.

Adrian lowered his arm slowly, breathing heavily, his heart pounding like a war drum in his chest.

The room had flipped.

The hunted had just struck the hunter.

Feeling so weak, Adrian glanced at his mana points…and his shock doubled.

[MP: 20/200]

°°°°°°°

A/N:- Thanks for reading.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep