MY LEVEL SYSTEM, WHO IS THE WEAK ONE NOW?

006

The sound of wooden swords striking echoed across the academy’s eastern training ground as students gathered for the morning sparring session.

Theo Vale stood at the edge of the crowd, keeping his injured hand tucked against his side. He had barely slept the previous night, and the memory of his mother trying to sell his father’s pendant still weighed heavily on his mind.

He needed to train.

He needed to become stronger.

Most importantly, he needed to stop giving people like Cassian Draven reasons to believe they could do whatever they wanted to him.

“Look who decided to show up.”

Theo recognized the voice before he turned.

Cassian approached with three students behind him, wearing the same confident smile he always wore whenever he found an opportunity to humiliate someone. His academy uniform was immaculate, and the silver badge on his chest marked him as a senior-ranked student.

Theo said nothing.

Cassian stopped directly in front of him. “I heard you have been making accusations about your training weapon.”

“It was damaged.”

“Of course it was.” Cassian glanced at the students gathering around them. “Perhaps the weapon sensed your incompetence and tried to save itself the trouble of being held by you.”

Several students laughed.

Theo started to walk away.

“Leaving already?” Cassian asked. “I thought you might finally have enough courage to defend yourself.”

“I have nothing to prove to you.”

“That is convenient. You cannot prove anything because you cannot do anything.”

Cassian stepped into his path, forcing Theo to stop.

“Come on, Vale. One round. No instructors interfering, no excuses afterward. Let everyone see whether you are as useless as they say.”

The crowd grew larger as more students abandoned their own practice to watch.

Theo studied Cassian’s expression. There was no genuine interest in a sparring match behind that smile. Cassian wanted a public incident, something he could twist into a disciplinary offense. If Theo attacked first, the academy would have all the justification it needed to punish him.

And Cassian knew it.

“No,” Theo replied.

A few students exchanged surprised looks.

Cassian tilted his head. “No?”

“I said no. Find someone else.”

“Perhaps you are finally learning your place.”

Cassian turned away as though the matter had ended, but then he spoke again, loudly enough for everyone nearby to hear.

“Your mother must be a remarkable woman. Imagine spending years sacrificing everything for a son who cannot even circulate a single strand of martial energy.”

Theo’s fingers curled.

Cassian noticed.

“She sells her belongings to keep you here, doesn’t she? Jewelry, clothes, whatever she can find. How foolish can a person be?”

“Leave my mother out of this.”

“Why? She is the most interesting thing about you.” Cassian gave a theatrical sigh. “If I were her, I would have abandoned a defective child before wasting my entire life trying to make him useful.”

Something inside Theo snapped.

He moved before he could think.

His fist drove toward Cassian’s face, fueled by every insult he had swallowed since entering the academy, every laugh he had endured, and every sacrifice his mother had made while pretending that everything was fine.

For one brief moment, Cassian’s smile disappeared.

Then he moved.

His body shifted half a step to the side, allowing Theo’s punch to pass harmlessly beside his cheek. Before Theo could recover, Cassian caught his wrist and twisted it sharply.

Pain shot through Theo’s arm.

Cassian drove his knee into Theo’s stomach, forcing the air from his lungs. Theo staggered, but Cassian refused to release him. A pulse of martial energy surged through Cassian’s arm, and he slammed Theo against the packed earth.

The impact rattled Theo’s bones.

He tried to push himself up, but Cassian’s boot struck his ribs and sent him rolling onto his side.

“Is that all?” Cassian asked.

Theo struggled to breathe. He had known he was weaker, but knowing something and experiencing it were two entirely different things.

He forced himself onto one knee.

Cassian approached without hurrying.

“You should have stayed down.”

Theo swung at him again.

Cassian caught the attack and twisted Theo’s arm behind his back. A sickening pop sounded from his shoulder, followed by a burst of pain so intense that Theo’s vision blurred.

A cry escaped his throat before he could stop it.

The surrounding students fell silent.

Cassian leaned close to his ear. “You could have avoided all this if you had simply learned to behave.”

He pressed down on Theo’s injured arm.

Theo’s knees struck the ground.

A murmur passed through the crowd as Cassian forced him to remain kneeling in the dirt. His shoulder burned, and every attempt to move sent another wave of pain through his body.

Yet the humiliation hurt almost as much as the injury.

Cassian straightened and addressed the watching students.

“This is what happens when someone mistakes stubbornness for strength.”

Theo stared at the ground, breathing through clenched teeth.

He could hear the whispers beginning around him.

Some students looked uncomfortable. Others seemed entertained. A few simply watched with the detached curiosity of people witnessing an accident that had nothing to do with them.

Then a familiar voice cut through the crowd.

“What is going on here?”

Instructor Halden strode toward them, his expression hardening when he saw Theo on his knees.

Cassian immediately released Theo and stepped back.

“He attacked me, Instructor.”

Theo lifted his head. “He insulted my mother.”

“And that gave you the right to strike a senior-ranked student?” Halden demanded.

“He wanted me to attack him.”

“Are you accusing him of provoking you?”

“He called my mother foolish for sacrificing everything to keep me here. He said she should have abandoned me because I was born with broken martial veins.”

Halden’s expression barely changed.

“Words do not excuse violence. You know the rules of this academy, Vale. If you cannot control yourself, you have no business training among martial artists.”

Theo stared at him in disbelief.

Cassian had challenged him in front of dozens of witnesses, deliberately attacked the one subject he knew Theo could not tolerate, and then beaten him when he reacted.

Yet somehow, Theo was the only person being questioned.

“Apologize to Cassian,” Halden ordered.

Theo slowly pushed himself upright, cradling his injured arm. The movement made his shoulder throb, and sweat gathered along his forehead.

He looked at Cassian.

The other boy waited with a satisfied expression, certain that Theo would eventually bow his head. An apology would complete the humiliation, turning the entire incident into a lesson about knowing one’s place.

Theo thought of his mother standing before a merchant, bargaining away the last valuable thing she had kept from his father.

He remembered the way she had tried to smile when he confronted her.

He remembered how she had refused to let him abandon the academy, even when staying there meant sacrificing more than she could afford.

His hands trembled.

But when he spoke, his voice was steady.

“I will not apologize for defending my mother.”

Halden’s face darkened. “Think carefully before you answer.”

“I have.”

“You attacked a senior student in front of witnesses, and now you refuse to obey a direct instruction?”

“I would accept punishment for throwing the first punch. I will not pretend that what he said was acceptable.”

For several seconds, nobody spoke.

Then Halden stepped closer.

“You will report to the old training grounds after evening bell. You will clean the entire area, including the storage chambers beneath the central platform. You will continue until the grounds are spotless, and you will repeat the assignment every night this week.”

A few students exchanged glances. The old training grounds had been neglected for years. Cleaning them was exhausting work, and the storage chambers beneath the platform were notorious for their dust, damaged equipment, and piles of discarded materials.

Halden was not merely assigning Theo a chore.

He was making certain that Theo would pay for refusing to bow.

“Do you understand?” the instructor asked.

“Yes, Instructor.”

“Then get out of my sight.”

Cassian passed Theo on his way back to the training area.

“Your mother must be proud,” he murmured. “All those sacrifices, and you still cannot win a single fight.”

Theo said nothing.

He knew that if he answered, Cassian would have another excuse to hurt him.

Instead, he walked away with his injured shoulder held close to his body.

By the time evening bell rang, the academy’s main grounds had emptied.

Theo collected a bucket, a stiff brush, and several worn cloths from the maintenance shed. His shoulder had been roughly treated by the academy medic, who had reset the dislocation with little more than a warning not to make trouble again. The joint remained tender, and even lifting the bucket made him grit his teeth.

Still, he carried his supplies to the old training grounds.

The place stood beyond the newer practice courts, separated from the rest of the academy by a weathered stone wall. Its buildings had been constructed from dark stone, and years of neglect had left moss growing between the paving slabs. The wooden targets leaned at crooked angles, while weeds pushed through cracks in the earth.

At the center stood a broad stone platform.

Unlike the wooden stages used for ordinary sparring sessions, this platform had been carved from a single enormous slab of gray rock. Its edges were chipped, and faded grooves crossed its surface. Nobody used it anymore, and most students considered it nothing more than an ugly relic from the academy’s early years.

Theo set down his bucket and began cleaning.

He swept leaves from the paths, scrubbed dirt from the platform, and dragged broken training dummies toward a pile beside the wall. Every movement pulled at his shoulder, but he continued until the ache became something he could ignore.

He was halfway through clearing the space beneath the platform when his brush struck something hard.

Clink.

Theo stopped.

He swept away the loose dirt and tried again. Beneath a layer of dust, the stone surface appeared unusually smooth. He crouched carefully and used the cloth to wipe it clean.

Thin scratches emerged from the darkness.

At first, they looked like meaningless marks left by a tool. Then Theo cleared away more dirt, revealing a pattern of curved lines intersecting around a narrow central point.

His breathing slowed.

He knew that shape.

He had seen it engraved into the black metal fragment among his father’s belongings.

Theo set the brush aside and pulled the fragment from the inner pocket of his uniform. He had started carrying it with him after the strange warmth it had produced the previous day, though he still had no idea what it was or why his father had kept it hidden.

Under the fading light, the engraved symbol looked ordinary.

Until he held it closer to the carving.

A faint golden line appeared along the metal’s surface.

Theo froze.

He lowered the fragment toward the stone. The instant it came within a finger’s width of the carved symbol, warmth spread through his palm.

The marks beneath the platform began to glow.

Theo nearly dropped the fragment.

He glanced over his shoulder, expecting to find someone watching him, but the old grounds remained empty. Beyond the wall, the academy was quiet, and the last traces of daylight stretched across the rooftops.

The golden lines brightened.

Theo should have stepped away. Every instinct told him that whatever was happening had nothing to do with ordinary martial training.

Instead, he reached out and touched the carving.

The world disappeared.

He stood beneath a sky split by black clouds, surrounded by mountains that had been shattered as though an invisible giant had crushed them in its fists. Rivers of molten light cut through the broken earth, and the air trembled beneath the weight of an immense, unfamiliar power.

Bodies lay scattered across the battlefield, their armor broken and their weapons buried in the ruined ground. Some were larger than buildings. Others looked almost human, except for the strange energy still flickering around their lifeless forms.

At the center of the devastation stood a towering figure.

The figure wore dark armor etched with golden symbols, and a long cloak stirred behind him despite the absence of wind. A massive weapon rested in one hand, its blade so long that its tip scraped across the battlefield.

Theo could not see the figure’s face.

He could only feel the pressure radiating from him, a force so overwhelming that Theo’s knees threatened to buckle, then the figure turned.

Even across the impossible distance, Theo felt that he had been seen.

A voice rolled across the shattered mountains.

“After all these years, a bearer of the God Veins has finally appeared.”

Golden light erupted from the figure’s body.

The battlefield vanished.

Theo stumbled backward, crashing onto the dusty ground beneath the platform. The black metal fragment slipped from his fingers, and the glow beneath the stone disappeared as suddenly as it had begun.

For several moments, he could only gasp for air.

His shoulder still hurt. His hands still trembled. The old training grounds remained exactly as they had been, silent beneath the evening sky.

But something had changed.

Theo looked down at the fragment.

For the first time since his father disappeared, he wondered whether the man had left him more than a keepsake,c cause something had just awakened.