MY LEVEL SYSTEM, WHO IS THE WEAK ONE NOW?

007

The old training grounds had never felt so quiet.

Theo Vale dragged the last broken training dummy toward the storage shed, trying not to put too much weight on his injured shoulder. His muscles ached from hours of cleaning, and the bruise spreading beneath his ribs made every deep breath uncomfortable.

He had finished the punishment Instructor Halden assigned him, but that did not mean he was free to leave without trouble.

Not at this academy.

Theo dropped the dummy beside the shed and wiped the sweat from his forehead. The evening bell had rung some time ago, and the paths leading back to the dormitories were nearly deserted.

He wanted nothing more than to return home, eat whatever his mother had managed to prepare, and reassure her that everything was fine.

She had no idea what had happened that morning.

He had deliberately avoided telling her about Cassian’s insults because he knew how much they would hurt her. Mara already carried enough burdens without having to worry about whether her son could survive another day at the academy.

Theo collected his bucket and turned toward the exit.

Three figures stepped out from behind the stone wall.

He stopped.

Gareth stood in the middle, his broad shoulders filling most of the narrow path, while two other senior students flanked him. Theo recognized both of them from Cassian’s circle. One was a tall boy named Rusk, and the other, a lean student with a scar across his chin, was called Bren.

Gareth smiled when he saw Theo.

“Look at that. The academy’s most stubborn failure is finally finished with his chores.”

Theo tightened his grip on the bucket. “Move aside.”

“That is no way to greet your seniors.”

“I am tired, and I want to go home.”

“Then you should have thought about that before embarrassing Cassian.”

Theo’s expression hardened. “He embarrassed himself.”

Gareth’s smile disappeared.

Rusk stepped forward and shoved the bucket from Theo’s hand. It hit the ground, spilling dirty water across the stones.

“Watch your mouth.”

Theo glanced at the water before looking back at them. He knew what this was about, and he knew why they had waited until the training grounds were empty.

Cassian wanted another lesson taught.

Only this time, there would be no instructor to interrupt it.

“What does he want?” Theo asked.

Gareth laughed. “You still haven’t figured it out? Cassian has been generous enough to let you remain at this academy despite your behavior, but you keep mistaking his patience for weakness.”

“Tell him to leave me alone.”

“That is not going to happen.”

Gareth moved closer until Theo could smell the bitter herbal drink on his breath.

“The selection trials are approaching, and Cassian does not want a useless distraction embarrassing the academy. You are going to withdraw before the trials begin.”

Theo stared at him.

The selection trials were one of the few opportunities available to students from poor families. Those who performed well could earn cultivation resources, receive better instruction, and qualify for positions that might change the course of their lives. Even a student without an influential family could gain recognition through the trials.

Theo had spent years waiting for that opportunity.

He would not surrender it because Cassian had decided he was unworthy of competing.

“No.”

Gareth’s eyebrows rose. “What did you say?”

“I said no. I am entering the selection trials.”

Bren chuckled. “You can barely lift a practice sword without hurting yourself. What makes you think you deserve to compete?”

“That is my decision.”

Gareth’s expression turned cold.

“You really are too stupid to understand when someone is trying to help you.”

“I did not ask for your help.”

Gareth struck him across the face.

Theo stumbled sideways, and before he could recover, Rusk slammed a fist into his stomach. The blow forced the air from his lungs, leaving him bent forward and struggling to breathe.

He barely had time to straighten before Bren struck him in the ribs.

Pain spread through his chest.

Theo staggered backward, but Gareth caught the front of his uniform and dragged him forward again.

“Withdraw from the trials,” Gareth demanded. “Say it.”

Theo tasted blood in his mouth.

“No.”

Gareth punched him in the abdomen.

Theo folded around the blow, and his knees nearly gave way. He had suffered enough injuries over the years to understand pain, but this was different. His damaged martial channels made it difficult for his body to gather and circulate energy, leaving him with little protection against attacks that trained students could ordinarily endure.

His opponents knew that.

They were not striking at random. Every blow landed where his body was weakest, and they were careful to avoid his arms and legs when they could have ended the fight quickly.

They wanted him to suffer.

Rusk drove his fist into Theo’s stomach again.

Theo fell to one knee.

“Still feeling stubborn?” Rusk asked.

Theo tried to stand, but Bren kicked him in the side and sent him sprawling across the stones.

He curled instinctively around his abdomen, struggling to draw air into his lungs. His injured shoulder throbbed, and the bruises from the morning’s fight seemed to awaken beneath his skin.

Gareth crouched beside him.

“You could have made this easy. All you had to do was admit that you do not belong here.”

Theo lifted his head.

“I belong here as much as you do.”

Gareth’s face twisted with anger.

He grabbed Theo by the collar and hauled him upright before driving a fist into his chest.

The impact sent Theo crashing against the stone wall.

For a moment, everything went white.

He slid to the ground, his breath coming in short, painful gasps. He could hear the three students moving around him, but their voices sounded distant, as though they were speaking from the other end of a long tunnel.

He needed to get up.

If he stayed down, they would keep going until he could no longer move.

Theo planted his good hand against the ground and tried to push himself upright.

His arm shook.

He failed.

“Enough.”

The new voice came from the entrance to the training grounds.

Gareth immediately stepped away.

Cassian Draven walked into the open space with his hands clasped behind his back. He looked as though he had merely come to inspect a training session, and his expression held none of the anger that had driven his allies to attack Theo.

Instead, he appeared mildly disappointed.

“Have you three learned nothing?” Cassian asked. “I told you to settle the matter, not make a mess of the grounds.”

Gareth lowered his head. “We were trying to make him understand, Young Master.”

“By beating him half to death?”

“He refused to withdraw.”

Cassian sighed.

“Leave us.”

Gareth hesitated. “But—”

“Did I ask you to explain yourself?”

The three students bowed their heads and retreated toward the entrance. Rusk glanced at Theo before leaving, and Bren followed him without another word.

Cassian waited until they were gone.

Then he approached Theo.

“Look at you.”

Theo remained on the ground, his body trembling as he fought to control his breathing.

Cassian crouched in front of him.

“You could have avoided this. All you had to do was withdraw from the trials and stop pretending you had a future here.”

Theo tried to answer, but the pain in his abdomen made speaking difficult.

Cassian leaned closer.

“Do you know what irritates me most about you, Vale? It is not your weakness. Plenty of people are weak, and most of them have the sense to accept it. You, however, insist on behaving as though you are entitled to stand beside people who have actually earned their place.”

Theo forced himself to meet his eyes.

“You are afraid.”

Cassian’s expression changed.

For the first time that evening, his composure cracked.

“Afraid of what?”

“That I might pass the trials.”

Cassian stared at him for a moment before laughing.

It was not the amused laugh he used when entertaining his classmates. It was sharp and humorless, and it made the air between them feel colder.

“You think you can pass the trials in your condition?”

“I think you would not be here if you were certain I could not.”

Cassian’s smile vanished.

He rose to his feet and looked down at Theo.

“I came here intending to give you one final chance, but you have made it clear that kindness is wasted on you.”

Theo attempted to move away, but his body refused to cooperate.

Cassian raised his right hand.

Martial energy gathered around his palm, forming a faint silver glow. It was a simple technique, nothing particularly impressive for someone of his rank, but Theo could feel the difference between their abilities even before the attack came.

Cassian had power to spare.

Theo had barely enough strength to remain conscious.

“Remember this,” Cassian said. “You were given every opportunity to leave with a little dignity, but you chose to make yourself my problem.”

He drove his palm into Theo’s abdomen.

The force lifted Theo from the ground and hurled him several feet backward.

He struck the stones hard enough to knock the remaining breath from his lungs.

For several seconds, he could not move.

Cassian lowered his hand and examined him with cool indifference.

“Withdraw from the selection trials,” he said. “If you show up, this will be the last time you walk away from a fight.”

Theo wanted to answer.

He wanted to tell Cassian that he would enter the trials regardless of what happened tonight. He wanted to promise that one day, he would stand before him without fear, without trembling, and without having to endure another insult to his mother’s name.

But his throat would not cooperate.

Cassian waited briefly, then clicked his tongue.

“Pathetic.”

He turned and walked away.

Theo watched his boots disappear into the darkness.

He had lost.

Not because he had changed his mind, and not because Cassian had proved that he was right, but because Theo’s body had reached a limit that his determination could not overcome.

He lay on the deserted training grounds, unable to lift his head.

The night sky above him blurred into a dark smear.

⸻

Mara would be waiting.

The thought came to Theo slowly, pushing through the haze gathering in his mind.

She would probably have kept his dinner warm, telling herself that the academy had assigned him extra work. Perhaps she would be sitting beside the window, listening for his footsteps, pretending not to worry because she had promised herself that she would trust him.

She believed he was still at the academy.

She believed he was safe.

Theo tried to move his fingers.

Nothing happened.

Panic stirred in his chest.

He forced himself to take a breath, but the air entered his lungs in a shallow, painful gasp. His abdomen felt as though something inside it had been torn apart, and each heartbeat sent a dull pressure through his chest.

He had to get home.

His mother could not lose him.

Not after everything she had sacrificed.

Theo pressed his palm against the ground and tried to push himself up once more. His arm buckled, and his face struck the cold stone.

A weak sound escaped his throat.

He could no longer tell whether the trembling in his body came from pain or the cold night air.

The darkness at the edges of his vision grew thicker.

He thought of Mara’s hands as she carefully folded his clothes, of the tired smile she gave him whenever he promised that things would get better, and of the way she had refused to let him abandon his dreams even when doing so might have made her life easier.

He had promised to repay her.

He had promised to make her proud.

“I am sorry, Mother.”

The words barely left his lips.

His breathing slowed.

One breath.

Then another.

Each one became harder to draw.

Theo tried to call for help, but his voice had disappeared. The training grounds remained empty, and the academy’s distant lights blurred into indistinct golden shapes.

He was alone.

For the first time in his life, determination was not enough to keep him moving.

His eyelids grew heavy, and his thoughts slipped away from him.

Then, somewhere in the darkness, a voice spoke.

It was cold, precise, and entirely unlike a human voice.

SUPREME MARTIAL GOD SYSTEM

Host life signs critically unstable.

Theo could not understand what he was hearing.

Was he imagining things?

Broken martial veins detected.

A faint vibration passed through his body.

Emergency reconstruction initiated.

The voice continued without emotion, as though it were reporting the condition of a damaged machine rather than a dying human being.

Warning: Host survival probability below acceptable threshold.

Theo’s fingers twitched.

Beneath his skin, a golden light appeared.

It began as a thin thread near his abdomen, then spread across his chest and along his arms. The light pulsed in time with his failing heartbeat, illuminating the bruises and cuts covering his body.

The black metal fragment inside his uniform grew hot.

Its engraved symbol shone through the fabric, and a deep vibration rolled beneath the stone platform. The markings Theo had discovered earlier that evening flickered into existence, answering the light spreading through his body.

The air around him began to tremble.

Golden lines emerged beneath his skin, winding through the damaged pathways where martial energy had never been able to flow properly. They reached toward the broken channels in his chest, gathering around the ruined network as though searching for a way to rebuild what had been destroyed.

Theo’s body convulsed.

His back arched against the stones, and a strangled gasp escaped his mouth.

He could feel something moving inside him.

It was not ordinary pain. It was as though invisible hands were reaching into the deepest part of his body, pulling apart the damaged pathways and attempting to reconstruct them from their foundations.

The golden light grew brighter.

Reconstruction progress: 3%.

His heartbeat faltered.

Warning: Host cardiovascular function deteriorating.

The system’s voice remained steady.

Stabilization protocol activated.

A surge of golden energy swept through Theo’s chest, forcing his body to convulse again. For one terrible instant, his heart beat with enough force to shake his entire body.

Then the rhythm faltered.

Once.

Twice.

His fingers curled against the ground.

Reconstruction progress: 7%.

The golden lines gathered around a narrow pathway running through the center of his chest. They twisted together, forming the faint outline of something new, something that had never existed within his body before.

A single God Vein.

The first of many.

The light pressed inward, attempting to complete the connection.

Theo’s heart gave one final, weak beat.

Then it stopped.

Silence fell over the old training grounds.

The golden light continued to spread beneath his skin, but the body it was trying to save no longer moved.

For the first time since its activation, the system paused.

CRITICAL ERROR.

Host heartbeat: Not detected.

First God Vein reconstruction incomplete.

Emergency revival protocol—initiating.