“Thank you again. Let’s head down to the…”

Darian said as he got up as prepared to move.

“Hold on.”

Ray interrupted, raising a hand before Darian could even take a step toward the direction of the suite’s private training room.

“If we go in there right now, I’m just going to fight you using my own style. That won’t help you against Viktor Garrick.”

Darian frowned, pausing in the middle of the plush carpet.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I haven’t fought Garrick since he challenged me. He has evolved since then.”

Ray explained, his mind already shifting into a tactical gear.

“I cannot properly test your defenses against Viktor’s if I am fighting using my own style. I need time to study his latest match data and internalize his new casting rhythm so I can accurately emulate his style.”

Ray looked Darian up and down, noting his relatively light attire.

“Plus, you aren’t dressed for a siege,”

Ray pointed out smoothly.

“Go back and suit up, Varrus. Put on your gear. Grab your heavy kite shield. Come back here in exactly one hour.”

Darian looked surprised by the clinical, commanding dismissal, but the sheer, unwavering authority in Ray’s voice left no room for argument. The noble gave a curt, respectful nod.

“One hour. I’ll be back.”

Darian confirmed.

When the heavy door of the suite clicked shut behind Darian, Ray turned and walked alone to his personal training room.

It was a stark contrast to the suite. The walls were made of heavy, raw stone, heavily scored with deep blast marks and weapon gouges. The air felt heavy, dense with the high-tier mana-absorbing wards woven into the masonry to prevent structural collapse.

Ray walked to the center of the empty room.

System, Engage the Tactical Replication Protocol. Input parameters: Viktor Garrick versus Darian Varrus. Compile from the most recent qualifier data.

Ray commanded internally.

[TACTICAL REPLICATION PROTOCOL ONLINE.]

[ACCESSING INTERNAL ARCHIVES…]

[COMPILING RECENT COMBAT TELEMETRY: 1ST-CIRCLE NOVICE VIKTOR GARRICK VS. RANK-1 BRONZE AEGIS DARIAN VARRUS.]

The room hummed. The heavy mana-absorbing wards woven into the masonry flared to life with a cool, ambient light. The ambient mana in the air coalesced, spinning rapidly into tight, glowing threads of hard-light.

[DATA SYNTHESIS COMPLETE.]

[RENDERING PHYSICAL PARAMETERS.]

Within seconds, the glowing threads wove together, and two life-sized, translucent illusions materialized in the center of the chamber. One was a perfect rendering of Darian in his heavy plate; the other was Viktor Garrick, gripping his signature white ash staff.

Ray retreated to the edge of the room, crossing his arms.

Execute simulation.

[CONFIRMED. SIMULATION RUNNING.]

For the next hour, Ray watched the ghosts fight. He didn’t just watch; he dissected them.

Exactly one hour later, a sharp, heavy knock echoed through the suite.

The heavy oak door swung open, but it wasn’t Ray standing in the entryway. Rina blinked, shifting a stack of paper-wrapped parcels and food supplies she had just purchased from the academy’s market district. She stared in utter bewilderment at the sight before her.

Darian Varrus stood in the hallway, fully outfitted for war. His masterwork forged chest plate gleamed under the ambient light of the Spire. He carried a heavy kite shield strapped to his back and a perfectly balanced longsword at his hip. He breathed slowly, his heart rate terrifyingly steady, projecting the absolute composure of a veteran Bronze Aegis.

“Varrus?”

Rina asked, her eyes darting from his serious expression to the massive shield.

“Are you here to cause trouble for the young master?”

“I have an appointment with Croft,”

Darian stated, his voice tight and formal, completely ignoring the absurdity of standing in a dormitory hallway in full plate armor.

Before Rina could ask exactly what kind of appointment that required someone to come in fully equipped, a voice echoed from down the hall.

“Let him in, Rina!”

Ray called out from the open doorway of the private training chamber.

“Send him back here.”

Rina sighed, stepping aside and gesturing vaguely with a bundle of dried herbs.

“Right this way, I suppose. Try not to bleed on the carpets.”

Darian gave a stiff, polite nod of thanks and marched through the suite. His armored boots thudded heavily until he crossed the threshold of the reinforced stone training room.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Ray stood in the center of the training room. He had effortlessly shucked off his black jacket, tossing it onto a wooden bench, and rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt to reveal the sleek, dark leather of the Theorist Glove covering his right hand and forearm.

“I’ve reviewed Viktor Garrick’s fights.”

Ray said, his voice dropping into the cold, clinical tone of an instructor.

“As you know he is no longer a stationary turret. He doesn’t panic when you close the distance. He wants you to charge him. He baits the heavy strike, uses footwork to evade, and hits you with a point-blank detonation.”

Darian’s jaw tightened.

“Then how do I beat him?”

“You feint the bait.”

Ray said simply.

“You force him to step exactly where you want him, and you break his casting rhythm with a shield bash before he can anchor his spell. But to practice that, you need to feel his speed.”

Ray dropped his center of gravity. He didn’t take his usual loose, flowing stance. Instead, he mimicked Viktor’s stiff, mathematically precise posture, raising his right hand as if holding an invisible white ash staff.

“Here’s the situation.”

Ray continued.

“I cannot cast 2nd-Circle spells with perfect proficiency yet. So, I will not be doing that.”

Darian nodded, adjusting his grip on his sword.

“Understood.”

“However, I need you to feel the true kinetic weight of his artillery. So, I will be using my own technique to make a 1st-Circle spell have the power of a 2nd-Circle Spell.”

Ray warned, his eyes turned serious.

Beneath the suppression disguise of his prop the Theorist Glove, Ray’s core hummed like a reactor.

“I will do my best not to injure you. But if you don’t brace your shield properly, I will absolutely break your guard. Do you understand?”

Ray promised, a dangerous smile touching his lips.

“I am a wall!”

Darian stated, slipping into the Form of the Fortress, his kite shield angled at a flawless forty-five degrees.

“Break me if you can, Croft.”

“Good.”

Ray barked.

Ray didn’t give a countdown. He simply snapped his fingers.

He moved with Viktor’s precise, drilled footwork, circling to Darian’s left. Ray thrust his hand with the Theorist Glove forward, bypassing a cantrip entirely. He manipulated his mana and added aether to it using the Aether-Infusion technique and fired.

“Perforo!”

Ray cast the 1st-Circle spell: Arcane Lance

The rotating spear of translucent blue force shrieked across the stone room. It won’t hit like a 1st-Circle spell. If it hits it will hit like a siege weapon.

“Scutum!”

Darian roared,

He cast 1st-Circle spell: Shield

A glowing hexagon of hard-light flared to life over his physical kite shield just as the arcane lance struck. The kinetic boom echoed like a cannon shot. The stone floor cracked beneath Darian’s steel boots, and he was pushed back a full foot, but his immaculate stance held. The heavy defender absorbed the apocalyptic impact without dropping his guard.

“My turn!”

Darian grunted.

Using the recoil of the blast, Darian triggered his Aegis Burst skill, breaking the limits of human reaction time. He surged forward in a blur of heavy steel, his longsword sweeping in a devastating arc aimed directly at Ray’s midsection.

Ray’s eyes widened. It was the exact scenario from the simulation.

Ray didn’t retreat. Mimicking Viktor perfectly, Ray executed the rigid, drilled side-step, attempting to slip into Darian’s blind spot to deliver the point-blank detonation.

The training of Darian Varrus had begun.

Over the next few days, a quiet routine settled over the Spire of Sages. Darian became a regular, albeit battered, fixture in Ray’s private training room. Every afternoon, the training room echoed with the concussive booms of infused spells and the metallic crash of heavy plate armor hitting the floor. Ray pushed the noble to his absolute physical limits, meticulously recreating Viktor Garrick’s evolving tactics.

Even with Ray’s exercised precise control over his primordial mana to avoid causing any permanent injury, Darian never left the suite unscathed. He would limp out into the hallway each evening, his pristine Varrus-forged armor scuffed and his jaw sporting fresh, vivid bruises, yet his eyes burned with a newly forged, unbreakable focus.

But Ray didn’t spend all his time training Bronze Aegis. When Darian was absent, Ray focused on his own preparations, testing the absolute limits of the Understudy Protocol.

With his recent advancements, Ray wanted to test the maximum effective range of the Understudy Protocol’s Resonant Link Communication. Sitting cross-legged in the center of the silent training room, Ray put his focus in activating the Resonant Link Communication, selected his second understudy Eliza Vance who was across the sprawling expanse of the Solhaven Academy demi-plane.

Testing the link, Eliza. Are you getting this message?

Ray sent the mental transmission, curious to see if the distance would degrade the clarity.

In the College of Statecraft dormitories, Eliza jumped slightly, dropping a quill onto her parchment. A moment later, her voice echoed back into his mind, crystal clear and tinged with bright amusement.

Loud and clear, Ray. Though it is a bit startling to have you suddenly speaking in my head while I am trying to finish an essay on magical infrastructure.

Ray smiled.

My apologies. I’ll let you get back to your reading. Are you preparing for the Third Round?

He asked.

Absolutely not,

Eliza replied smoothly, her tone carrying the relaxed confidence of a brilliant scholar who knew she had already done all the necessary calculating.

I am currently debating the merits of sneaking down to the kitchens for a sweet roll. If we are going to be subjected to whatever sadistic trial the Academy has planned tomorrow, I refuse to spend my final evening stressing over it.

A flawless strategy. Enjoy the sweet roll, Eliza.

Ray severed the link smoothly. He then shifted his focus this time he selected his third understudy Kaelen Thorne.

Kaelen. Do you read me?

There was a brief pause, followed by the steady, rhythmic sound of a blade cutting through the air bleeding through the mental link.

I hear you, Ray.

Kaelen replied, her mental voice tight with exertion and far more serious than Eliza’s.

How are you doing this, are you nearby? Have you uncovered something about the Third Round?

My patron has taught me something new about our communication and I am testing its range.

Ray assured her.

You sound busy.

I’m running drills.

Kaelen admitted, the frustration evident in her thoughts.

I’m fast, but I’m hitting a plateau. My transition from defense to offense feels sluggish against heavier opponents. Ray… is there something I’m missing? Something I need to fix before tomorrow?

Ray opened his eyes. He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he shifted his focus.

System,Engage Tactical Replication. Compile Kaelen Thorne’s recent combat data.

Ray commanded.

The illusions flickered to life. Ray let Kaelen’s simulated copy fight many different kinds of opponents via the Tactical Replication Protocol, he engaged the Grizzled Commander’s Commander’s Eye, watching Kaelen’s simulated phantom fight. He broke down her kinetic movements, applying his mastery of the Fulcrum Principle. It didn’t take long to spot the inefficiency in her otherwise excellent technique.

I’m reviewing your fights right now.”

Ray transmitted back, his voice taking on the calm, analytical weight of a veteran instructor.

You aren’t sluggish, Kaelen; you are over-committing your center of gravity. When you block a heavy strike, you plant your back foot too hard. You are anchoring yourself to absorb the blow, which means you have to physically uproot yourself to counterattack.”

“So how do I fix it?”

Kaelen asked, the sound of her swinging blade stopping completely.

Don’t be a wall; be a hinge. When the heavy strike comes, keep your back heel off the ground. Let the kinetic force of their attack pivot your hips naturally. Use their momentum to spin into your counter-strike instead of trying to generate the speed from a dead stop.”

Ray advised.

Silence hung on the link for a full minute.

I’m trying it now… By the Founders. The transition is almost instantaneous.

Kaelen finally sent, her voice breathless with realization.

“Don’t overthink it, Kaelen. Just let the momentum carry the blade.”

Ray advised gently.

Rest up. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.

Understood. Thank you, Ray.

Kaelen responded and sounded grateful.

Ray severed the connection, the quiet isolation of the training room settling back over him. Darian was armed with a strategy. Kaelen had corrected her stance. Eliza was perfectly at peace. His pieces were sharpened and in position.

Now, all that was left was to step into the Grand Arena tomorrow and face whatever scenario the Academy had waiting for them.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep