Volume 02, Chapter 24

  Maurice's Another Training [1]

  -Ring!

  The school bell echoes through the halls, signaling the end of today’s light Tuesday schedule. I let out a satisfied sigh, stretching my arms overhead until I hear a faint pop on my shoulders. The stretch feels incredible after sitting through math, even if the class itself wasn’t much of challenging.

  Math here is a breeze. Middle school-level concepts in this world are almost identical to the ones from my old life, and compared to raiding Stargates and surviving demon threats, algebra feels like child’s play. A glance at the clock confirms it’s still early—11:30 AM.

  “Hey, Doms!”

  I turn to see Arthur making his way over. His easy stride and relaxed grin make him look like he owns the place—typical Arthur energy.

  “Sup?” I reply, slipping my bag over one shoulder.

  Arthur stops next to my desk and leans against it, his grin widening. “It’s still early. Wanna hang out somewhere?”

  I hesitate, the memory of my commitment to Maurice flashing back. “Sorry, I can’t. I’ve got training with Professor Maurice today.”

  “Oh yeah, I forgot about that,” Arthur says with a slight frown, but it’s fleeting. A moment later, his face brightens with a new idea. “Hey, can I watch?”

  The request catches me off guard. “Watch?”

  “Yeah, I mean, I’ve got nothing better to do, and seeing you get roasted by Maurice sounds fun.” Arthur’s teasing smirk makes it clear he’s joking—mostly.

  I roll my eyes with a small smile. “Sure, knock yourself out. Just don’t laugh too hard when I get tossed around.”

  “Deal.” Arthur grins, clearly excited about the impromptu plan. But then, his gaze sharpens slightly, like something just clicked. “Wait, did you bring a change of clothes for training?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got spare clothes in my bag, but…” I trail off, shifting awkwardly as I rub the back of my neck.

  Arthur tilts his head. “But what?”

  “I… don’t know where the locker rooms are,” I admit, feeling the faint burn of embarrassment creep up my neck.

  Despite being at this school for nearly a week, there are still areas and facilities I need to familiarize myself with, including the location of the locker rooms.

  Arthur stares incredulously at me for a moment before bursting into laughter. “Wait—you don’t know? I thought you were the guy with the great sense of direction!”

  I chuckle sheepishly. “Hehe… let’s just say I’m still getting my bearings here.”

  Arthur crosses his arms, shaking his head with exaggerated disapproval. “That’s rich coming from you, Doms. Normally I’m the one asking for directions, remember? Who knew I’d have to play the tour guide today?”

  “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” I mutter, though I can’t help smiling at his playful ribbing.

  Arthur smirks, jerking his thumb toward the hallway. “Come on, forgetful one. Follow me before you end up lost in the janitor’s closet or something.”

  “Much appreciated,” I reply with a mock bow, earning another laugh from him.

  With Arthur leading the way, we navigate through the school's winding halls. As usual, his upbeat attitude makes even something as mundane as finding a locker room feel less of a hassle.

  And if I’m honest? Having someone like Arthur around—someone who doesn’t overthink things or let the small stuff get to him—makes everything about this strange new life feel more manageable.

  ════ ?★? ════

  After changing into my spare clothes—a plain white shirt, black shorts, and rubber shoes—I’m ready for my training session with Professor Maurice. Both of Galahad’s Judgement are safely tucked into my pockets, concealed from prying eyes.

  But there’s one small problem. I have no idea where to meet Maurice.

  Pulling out my Commlink, I hover my thumb over the call button, debating whether to contact Maurice. Knowing how busy he is, calling him feels like an unnecessary bother.

  I sigh and slide the Commlink back into my pocket. Better to figure this out myself.

  Stepping into the hallway, I scan for Arthur, who had promised to wait outside while I changed.

  “Huh?” I mutter, blinking in confusion. Arthur’s nowhere to be seen. “Didn’t he just say he’d wait for me here?”

  The hair on the back of my neck prickles—a gut instinct. Spinning around, I draw one of my Galahad’s Judgement in a swift motion, aiming straight ahead.

  “D-Doms!”

  Arthur freezes mid-step, his face going pale as he stares at the gun pointed at him. He’d been sneaking up to scare me, but the tables turned far faster than anticipated.

  Realizing it’s just Arthur, I exhale, my embarrassment catching up. I quickly lower the gun and tuck it back into my pocket. “Ah, sorry, Arthur.”

  Arthur clutches his chest dramatically, letting out a shaky breath. “Seriously, Doms, you scared me half to death!”

  I roll my eyes, unamused by the irony. “Bruh…”

  Arthur recovers quickly, grinning like this was all part of the plan. “What can I say? I live for jokes and giggles.”

  “Yeah, I noticed,” I deadpan, though I can’t stay mad. That’s just Arthur being Arthur.

  His playful demeanor shifts slightly as he asks, “So, do you know where you’re supposed to meet Professor Maurice?”

  The reminder pulls me back to my original dilemma. I sigh, scratching the back of my head. “That’s the thing—I don’t. I thought about calling him but didn’t want to interrupt if he’s busy.”

  Arthur quirks an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “And?”

  “…And I don’t know where the faculty room is,” I admit, feeling my pride take another hit.

  Arthur stares at me for a moment, processing my confession. Finally, he sighs, though his expression softens with understanding. “Okay, Doms… seriously, how do you not know this stuff by now?”

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  “I have my talents,” I reply defensively, “but knowing school layouts isn’t one of them.”

  Arthur chuckles, shaking his head as he gestures for me to follow him. “Alright, forgetful one. I’ll show you where it is. Again.”

  “Thanks, Arthur. I owe you.”

  As we walk through the maze-like corridors, I can’t help but marvel at Arthur’s patience. Most people would find my constant disorientation suspicious—like I’d suddenly lost my memories overnight. But Arthur doesn’t question it. He just helps.

  Maybe that’s what makes him such a good friend. He doesn’t overthink things. He just is.

  And in this strange new life of mine, I couldn’t ask for a better friend.

  ════ ?★? ════

  As Arthur and I weave through the school corridors, I can’t help but notice the growing buzz around us.

  It’s like walking through a live gossip network.

  The stares, whispers, and sighs are unmistakable, though we seem to attract vastly different kinds of attention.

  “Gah! Arthur, notice me!”

  “He’s so hot!”

  “Look at that smile! He’s perfect!”

  Arthur, walking beside me with his usual effortless confidence, doesn’t even seem to notice the lovestruck gazes being thrown his way. It’s as if he’s oblivious to his own gravitational pull—meanwhile, I feel like I’m getting caught in the crossfire.

  Then, the less flattering commentary begins.

  “Wait, who’s that shameless display walking with him?”

  “Seriously, Arthur could do better.”

  “Isn’t that the Manaless kid?”

  The words hit like tiny pebbles to my pride, each one stinging just enough to make me grit my teeth.

  I let out a small sigh and keep my gaze forward, ignoring the murmurs.

  Priorities, Dominic. You’ve got a duel tomorrow and a training session to survive today. Random school gossip? Not worth the energy.

  Arthur, naturally, remains completely oblivious to the chaos around us. He’s probably too busy mentally preparing a list of jokes for when I inevitably get roasted by Maurice.

  “Are you seriously this popular every day?” I mutter, mostly to myself.

  Arthur looks over, flashing me an easygoing grin. “Huh? What was that?”

  “Nothing,” I reply, shaking my head. “Absolutely nothing.”

  At least one of us is thriving.

  ════ ?★? ════

  Soon, we arrive at the faculty room. I peer through the glass, scanning for Maurice among the teachers inside.

  “Weird. I don’t see him,” I mutter, frowning.

  Arthur, standing next to me, squints through the glass as well. “Same here. He’s probably hiding behind that mountain of papers. I’ll head in and ask around.”

  “Thanks, Arthur,” I say, silently appreciating his willingness to help.

  But as soon as I step back, my surroundings shift.

  The air grows heavy, the familiar hum of the school fades, and a sudden, crisp snap resounds like reality itself breaking.

  “What the—?!”

  I whirl around, and my heart leaps to my throat. The sterile hallways of the school are gone. Instead, I’m standing in the middle of a forest. Dense trees loom over me, their leaves a canopy that filters eerie streaks of sunlight. The cool, damp scent of moss replaces the school’s antiseptic tang.

  Where the hell am I?

  “Hey there, Dominic.” Maurice’s voice cuts through the confusion like a knife.

  I spin to find him leaning casually against a tree, dressed in his training attire—a dark coat lined with runic embroidery, pristine gloves, and a devilish smile plastered across his face. His cane rests against his shoulder like it’s an old friend.

  A glowing quest window appears before me, and a cold sweat trickles down my neck.

  100 Stat Points?!

  The reward is incredible, but the wording chills me to the core. Survive? I have to survive again like the last training?

  “You’re welcome for the teleportation,” Maurice says cheerfully, pushing off the tree with his cane. “Consider this training a warm-up for your duel with Lumi tomorrow.”

  “Teleportation?! You dragged me here without warning!” I bark, but my protests go ignored.

  Maurice raises his right hand, fingers poised with his trademark precision. “Let’s begin.”

  -Flick!

  A sharp, unnatural chill sweeps through the air, freezing the moisture around me. My breath comes out in wispy clouds, and a shiver creeps through my spine.

  “So, I heard Lumi Everheart challenged you,” Maurice continues conversationally as the temperature plummets further. A pale blue aura pulses around him, and a sleek cane materializes in his hand. “This will prepare you… if you don’t die first.”

  The calm, teasing tone sends every alarm bell in my head screaming. He’s not going to make it easy for me.

  I draw Galahad’s Judgement, spinning them into my grip and aiming squarely at him.

  -Bang! Bang!

  The twin gunshots shatter the silence, bullets streaking toward him.

  Maurice sidesteps effortlessly; his movements are so precise that he’s strolling through a gentle breeze instead of dodging live fire. He taps his cane lightly against his boot, looking wholly unimpressed.

  “Icicle Lance Barrage.” He says it softly, but the spell’s power explodes into being.

  From the tip of his cane, dozens of jagged icicles erupt and spear toward me in a deadly volley.

  I leap to the side just as the lances hit.

  -Boom!

  The ground where I stood erupts in icy spikes, the sharp sound of freezing earth echoing through the forest. Glancing back, I see frost crawling across the shattered earth.

  I could’ve been impaled.

  “Dominic,” Maurice’s voice carries through the air, smooth and calm. “The Everhearts are famous for their ‘Ice Magic,’ but their strength often comes at the cost of versatility.” He levels his cane at me again. “Remember, their weakness is close combat.”

  I grit my teeth, biting back the urge to yell that I already know. Instead, I focus, my mind racing. I’ll have to close the distance, but with his relentless barrage, it’ll take strategy—and no small amount of luck.

  Maurice spins his cane effortlessly, the polished surface catching flashes of the faint, icy glow around him. His smile is playful, but his words carry an ominous edge.

  “So, in this spar, I’ll humor you,” Maurice says casually, spinning his ornate cane as if this were a mere game. “I’ll pretend I suck at close-quarters combat.”

  His smile carries a sharp edge—teasing, yet full of confidence. This man is toying with me.

  “Cryoquake.”

  The world beneath me shatters with a resounding slam of his cane into the frozen earth.

  From the impact point, a tide of jagged ice crystals surges forward, splitting the ground like a glacier awakening from its slumber. Spires of frost erupt, advancing toward me with alarming speed, their sharp edges glinting with deadly intent.

  “Crap!”

  I sprint to the side, lungs burning as I race to outpace the encroaching wave of ice. It’s relentless, tearing through the landscape like the air is freezing solid.

  Too fast.

  With the ground icing over faster than I can move, I have no choice but to rely on my trump card.

  “Activate!”

  -Tick-tock!

  The world around me slows to a crawl. The creaking groan of the ice and Maurice’s distant smirk become molasses-thick in time.

  I take off, weaving through the jagged frost barriers with newfound agility. The Chrono Pendant thrums faintly against my chest as I close the distance between us.

  Maurice remains unmoving, his confident stance a taunt in itself.

  I’ve got you.

  I draw Galahad’s Judgement in a flash, leveling my aim.

  -Bang! Bang!

  Twin shots rip through the air, bullets streaking toward him like threads of light.

  But then—

  “dleiF emiT nezorF,” The foreign words roll off Maurice’s tongue like an incantation carved into ancient stone.

  A deafening chime fills the forest as a massive, shimmering ice clock materializes behind him. Its hands freeze mid-tick, and before I can react, a translucent ice shield erupts before him.

  -Boom!

  My bullets strike the shield, exploding into smoke and glinting shards. The debris forces me to shield my eyes, the frost biting at my skin even from this distance.

  When the smoke clears, Maurice stands there, untouched. “So, you’re wielding an artifact that manipulates time,” he says, his voice calm, almost impressed.

  I lower my arms, my heart hammering in disbelief. Around him, frozen icicles float mid-air, locked in time. Yet Maurice… Maurice moves freely.

  He flicks an icicle aside with his cane, sending it tumbling in slow motion like a weightless feather.

  “The spell I used isn’t something the Everhearts would possess,” he continues nonchalantly, eyes gleaming. “It’s ancient—crafted by my ancestors. So don’t look so surprised.”

  Ancient spell? My mind races, trying to make sense of it. His spell countered my pendant entirely, nullifying what I thought was my biggest advantage.

  I swallow hard, forcing words past my dry throat. “Professor… did you limit the mana you used for that spell?”

  Maurice tilts his head, a faint smile playing on his lips as if indulging a child who’s caught onto part of a trick. “Indeed. I only used the mana output of a [B+] spell to match your artifact.”

  The words hit me like a sledgehammer.

  In Sylvestria, spells aren’t ranked like Magicians; any spell can be devastating on paper. But their true strength depends on the mana poured into them. Maurice, as a [SS] ranked Magician, could power a nation’s Magi-Tech infrastructure single-handedly. Yet he’s deliberately throttling his output for my benefit.

  He’s holding back.

  And still, I’m struggling to breathe under the weight of his power.

  Maurice steps forward, the frost crunching under his boots like broken glass. The glint in his eyes sharpens. “Let this sink in, Dominic: artifacts alone won’t save you. They’re tools. What matters is how you use them—and how prepared you are when someone counters them.”

  The frozen air crackles with tension as I grip Galahad’s Judgement tighter. Maurice’s words sting, but they’re true. My reliance on the pendant left me exposed the moment it failed.

  “Now,” Maurice continues, raising his cane again, the ice clock still hovering behind him, “show me what you’ve learned. You’ve got time—if you make it count.”