It was Jonah’s first time in an Academy training hall. His small room was good for quiet thinking, but his new creature needed space. The hall was huge. It was a bright white room, filled with sounds of people grunting, weapons clanging, and magic crackling.

Other students were practicing with flashy spells or sparring with manifested weapons. Jonah felt a dozen pairs of eyes on him as he found an empty corner.

He took a breath and summoned his team.

Shard, the rock-bug, appeared with a quiet shimmer. It immediately began to patrol the corner in a tight circle, its mandibles clicking softly. Then came Nyx.

The Glimmerwing Striker appeared in a swirl of brown and silver light. Its shiny shell made it look like a strange piece of art. It stood very still, a quiet, beautiful guard.

They didn’t look like fighters. Instead, they looked like a very strange, moving piece of art.

“Okay, boys,” Jonah whispered, a small smile on his face. “Let’s practice formations. Shard, scout pattern delta. Nyx, defensive stance.”

Shard came forward, moving slowly. Nyx crouched down, its shiny shell looking blurry. Controlling both creatures at the same time was like using a new muscle. It was tough but gave him a thrill. He was so focused on their mental link that he didn’t notice the large shadow that fell over him.

“Well, well. Look what crawled out from its hole.”

The voice was deep and laced with contempt. Jonah turned to see a mountain of a student looming over him.

He was tall, with broad shoulders packed into the Academy uniform, and a sneer that looked like it was a permanent feature. A polished Rank Two badge, the same as Seraph’s, was pinned to his chest.

Jonah recognized him from the student orientation. Draven. A Manifestor from a famous noble family, whose class was ‘Blademaster.’ People knew him for two reasons: he was incredibly powerful and incredibly arrogant.

Draven looked at Jonah, then at his creature. His sneer got worse. “So these are the famous creations? A bug and a shiny beetle? This is the Headmaster’s secret pet?”

A few nearby students stopped their training to watch, sensing drama.

Jonah’s survival instincts, learned from the Undercroft, screamed inside him. This person was like a dangerous animal claiming its area.

Jonah remained silent, simply recalling Nyx to his side. There was no point in talking to a wall.

Draven got angrier because Jonah was quiet. ‘What’s wrong, scrapper?’ he said with hate. ‘Can’t you talk? I don’t understand. We work hard to get strong. You stay in your room and get special things given to you. It’s an insult.

“I’m training now,” Jonah said, his voice level.

Draven let out a harsh laugh. “This? You call this training? You’re playing with pets. Real power doesn’t come from hiding behind creations.”

To make his point, Draven held out his hand. Light and energy came together, forming a huge greatsword that pulsed with power. its edges sharp enough to cut the air. The other students stared in awe.

“This is power,” Draven said loudly, liking the attention. “You earn it, you don’t just get it from an egg.” He pointed his sword at Jonah. “I challenge you to a fight. No tricks, no pets. Just you and me. Let’s see what you’re really made of.”

The challenge hung in the air. The crowd of onlookers grew. This was what Draven wanted – a public humiliation.

He wanted to totally defeat the newcomer from the Undercroft. He also wanted to prove that family name and true power were all that mattered.

Jonah knew he couldn’t win. Draven was bigger, stronger, and used a weapon that could probably cut Shard in half. But stepping back felt even worse. It felt like agreeing with Draven.

Before Jonah could respond, another voice cut through the tension, cold and sharp.

“Is there a problem here, student?”

Sergeant Seraph stood at the edge of the training area, arms crossed. She hadn’t raised her voice, but every student in the vicinity, including Draven, flinched as if she’d screamed. She looked straight at Draven. Her stare was very cold.

Draven’s confidence broke for a moment. He put his greatsword down a bit, but kept it out. “Sergeant,” he said. “I was just asking the new student for a friendly fight. To welcome him here.”

“Is that so?” Seraph said, taking a slow step forward. The crowd parted for her like she was a reaper. “Because from where I was standing, it looked like a Rank Two student was attempting to intimidate a Rank One student under my supervision. It looked like you were wasting my time.”

Her eyes narrowed. Even though she and Draven both had Steel badges, there was a huge difference in rank between a student and a veteran instructor. She had complete control.

Draven jaw tightened, his face turning red. He was furious about being undermined, especially in front of everyone. He gave Jonah a glare full of pure hatred, then made his greatsword disappear in a bright flash.

“No problem, Sergeant,” he growled.

He turned to leave, but stopped when he was shoulder-to-shoulder with Jonah. He leaned in close, his voice a low, menacing promise.

“This isn’t over, scrapper,” he whispered, so only Jonah could hear. “The practical exams are coming up. We’ll see how your little pets hold up in a real fight. I’m going to expose you for the fraud you are, right in front of everyone.”

With a hateful glare, Draven shoved past him and stormed out of the training hall.

The show was over. The crowd dispersed, leaving Jonah standing alone in his corner with his two Progeny. His heart was still pounding, a mix of adrenaline and anger. He dismissed Nyx and Shard back to the Workshop, their quiet presence suddenly feeling insufficient.

He was shaken, but as the adrenaline faded, it was replaced by a familiar feeling: a cold, hard resolve.

Draven wasn’t like the mindless rust-golems of the Undercroft. He was a thinking threat. A rival. And he had just made a very clear promise.

Jonah looked down at his hands. Hiding wasn’t his style. He had never been a fraud. He was a survivor. And survivors didn’t wait to be attacked.

They prepared.

Draven wanted to see what he was made of in a real fight?

Fine.

Jonah would give him one.

But first, he needed a Progeny capable of direct combat. He needed something with teeth.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep