Arman stood firm, facing the five Voidborns inside the shattered jewelry shop. The air was thick with malice, the darkness around them pulsing with unseen energy.
The spirit energy coating his hands began to solidify, taking the shape of glowing red gauntlets. The energy surged through his body, filling him with an unfamiliar yet exhilarating strength. His spirit's voice echoed in his mind. "Listen, I'll give you 5% of my power. Your body cannot handle more than that right now. You'll have to fight within this limit." As soon as the words registered, Arman felt it. A strange yet thrilling sensation coursed through him. His muscles tensed, his senses sharpened, and for the first time—he felt truly powerful. "Wow… what is this feeling? It's like I could take down a sumo wrestler with one punch!" His spirit chuckled. "A sumo wrestler? Kid, with this power, you can do a lot more than that." Then, something unexpected happened. The red energy of his gauntlets shifted, streaks of violet intertwining with the crimson glow until the entire structure changed. The red became a pattern, while the dominant hue was now deep violet. "What the—?! Why did my energy change color?" Arman asked in surprise. "Simple," his spirit answered. "Red is the color of your energy. Violet is mine. Right now, you have more of my energy flowing through you than your own—that's why the color changed. But don't focus on that. Your concern should be: how will you fight them?" A smirk formed on Arman's lips. "Oh, I know exactly how." He clenched his fists, feeling the weight of the gauntlets. His body shifted into a loose, fluid stance. "I used to be a huge Gruce Lee fan when I was younger. I learned Jeet Kune Do because of him. I can use that." "Then stop talking and fight!" the spirit urged. Arman exhaled sharply, his stance lowering slightly. His eyes scanned the Voidborns, analyzing their movements. "These things… they aren't fully developed yet," he muttered to himself. "They're not as strong as the one I fought in the mall." Then, he locked eyes with the man in the dark brown coat. "Listen," Arman said, his voice unwavering. "I am not joining you. Do whatever you want, but I'll fight until my last breath." The man's expression darkened. "Very well then," he said. And then—his voice twisted into a demonic growl. "DIE." One of the Voidborns, the same one that had attacked meera, lunged forward. Its clawed hand shot toward Arman's chest. But this time, Arman was ready. He executed Stop Hit—his fist intercepted the Voidborn's attack mid-swing. A shockwave pulsed outward from the impact, rattling the broken jewelry displays. The Voidborn snarled in frustration, its glowing red eyes flaring. Arman followed up instantly. With two fingers, he jabbed straight toward its face. Finger Jab. His fingers stabbed into its eyes. The Voidborn let out a piercing shriek, clawing at its face in agony. Black mist poured from its wounds, its body writhing violently. Arman didn't stop. He pulled back his fist, gathering his energy. The violet and red aura around his gauntlets began swirling like a vortex. Then—he struck. His Straight Lead Punch connected directly with the Voidborn's ribs. The impact was devastating. A powerful shockwave exploded outward, sending shattered glass and debris flying. A gust of wind pressure blasted through the store as the Voidborn's chest caved inward—and then, just as suddenly, a hole was torn through its torso. The creature let out a final gurgling noise. Then—it collapsed. A silence fell over the room. Arman stared at the lifeless body of the Voidborn. His first true kill. "…It's dead." For a moment, he felt relieved. But then, a disturbing thought entered his mind. He swallowed hard before asking, "Spirit… isn't there any way to save the human inside? Without killing them?" His spirit paused. Then, with a tone heavier than before, it answered. "There is." Arman's heart skipped a beat. "Then—" "But you are not capable of it right now. If you hesitate, you'll die. So for now, just focus on saving yourself." Arman clenched his fists. His resolve hardened. "…Fine." He lifted his gaze. Four more Voidborns remained. And he wasn't done fighting yet. Suddenly, the air near the man in the dark brown coat began to distort. A ripple in space formed beside him, black particles swirling like a miniature storm. The distortion grew, warping into the shape of a dark, ominous gate. The man turned to Arman, pointing directly at him. "If you manage to survive this—though I already know you will—think again. The King chose you himself." With that, he stepped into the swirling darkness. The gate snapped shut behind him, leaving nothing but an unsettling silence. Arman exhaled sharply. Huh. Whatever. He cracked his neck and clenched his fists, turning back to the remaining four Voidborns. "Let's finish this." Overwhelmed Before he could react, all four Voidborns attacked at the same time. One smashed a fist into Arman's face—but before he could stumble, another Voidborn grabbed his waist, holding him in place. BAM! A vicious punch struck his jaw, sending a jolt of pain through his skull. His vision blurred for a split second before another Voidborn delivered a side kick, launching him backward. Arman's body crashed into a shattered display case, glass shards digging into his arms. "Damn it!" he muttered, spitting out blood. He barely had time to breathe before another Voidborn lunged at him. Arman twisted his body to dodge, but the creature's fist clipped his stomach. Pain exploded through his ribs. He gasped, a small trickle of blood escaping his lips. "Tch… they're not as strong as the mall Voidborn, but they still pack a punch," he thought grimly. Then, an idea struck him. "Spirit! In the mall, how did you fire that bullet from your finger?" His spirit seemed caught off guard by the question. "Oh, you mean Spirit Bullet? It's simple. You have to condense your energy on your fingertip and—" The spirit didn't even get to finish. Arman had already raised his hand, his index finger glowing with a fierce violet-red aura. "Spirit Bullet!" BOOM! A streak of energy shot from his finger, piercing straight through a Voidborn's skull. The left side of its head erupted in blood and black mist, its body twitching violently before collapsing to the ground. Even the remaining Voidborns hesitated. Arman looked at his smoking fingertip, his chest rising and falling. "What the hell are you, kid?" his spirit muttered, stunned. A smirk tugged at Arman's lips. "Someone who learns fast."Latest Chapter
A Lesson He Couldn’t Forget
Arman looked straight at Jim, his expression calm and steady. There was no arrogance in his eyes, no excitement either—only quiet certainty.“We will see,” Arman said evenly, his voice carrying clearly through the training ground. “Who trains whom.”For a brief moment, Jim didn’t react. His body remained still, as if he was measuring Arman. Then his expression changed. His eyes darkened, his jaw tightened, and something ugly surfaced inside him.Anger came first, sharp and immediate.But beneath that anger lived something deeper—hatred.Not the loud, reckless kind, but the kind that sat silently, waiting for the right moment to strike.Kenny stepped closer to Arman and spoke in a low voice, careful that Jim wouldn’t hear him clearly. “Arman, you really don’t have to fight him. You can refuse. No one will think less of you.”Instructor Lira nodded in agreement. “Yes, Arman. If you don’t want to accept this match, you can—”“No.”Arman cut her off before she could finish the sentence.T
Let’s See Who Trains Whom
The training ground was loud with footsteps and breath.Dust rose constantly as students moved, sparred, fell, and got back up again. Shouts echoed across the field, mixed with the dull thud of fists hitting arms, elbows crashing into guards, and shoes scraping against sand.Some rookies were already panting.Some had bruises forming.Some were still trying to understand how their bodies moved.Arman stood still for a moment.His eyes were locked on Kenny.Kenny rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck, and grinned like he was enjoying himself a little too much.“Alright, rival,” he said. “Let’s see what you learned.”Arman didn’t answer.He shifted his stance slightly. Left foot forward. Weight light. Hands relaxed.Then—He suddenly sprinted forward.Fast.Direct.No wasted movement.Kenny reacted instantly. His arms came up, elbows tight, reading Arman’s shoulder movement.Arman’s right fist shot forward.Kenny moved to block——but the punch stopped halfway.A fake.Before Kenny’s br
A Warning and a Lesson
Kenny walked up to Arman the moment Jim left the classroom. His grin was wide, but his eyes showed a little worry.“Yo bro,” Kenny said, slapping Arman’s shoulder. “That… that was something else.”Arman blinked. “Hm? Why? Is everyone acting like it’s a big deal?”Kenny stared at him like Arman had asked why the sky is blue.“YES, it’s a big deal! That was Jim you stopped! He isn’t just some loudmouth. That guy is one of the strongest in the second years.”Arman raised an eyebrow. “And?”Kenny pointed at Ron, who was sitting quietly, holding his bag tight to his chest.“You know that boy? Ron? Jim’s servants work for Jim’s family. Ron is the servant’s kid. Jim despises that someone weaker than him has power over him in any form. So he bullies Ron to feel big.”Arman looked at Ron again. The small boy was wiping his glasses, trying to hide the redness in his eyes.“I couldn’t care less,” Arman said calmly. “Wrong is wrong.”Kenny nodded. “Well said, bro. But listen— you gotta be careful
The First Conflict
Instructor Lira left the classroom, and as soon as the door closed, everyone let out a breath they had been holding.Kenny leaned back in his chair and stretched. “Damn… she’s intense. I kinda like it.”Arman smirked. “You would.”They were talking quietly when the classroom door suddenly slammed open so hard that half the class jumped.Three boys walked in.The one in the middle stood out instantly — green spiky hair, sharp eyes, a smirk that screamed trouble.The other two flanked him like bodyguards. They looked like twins, almost identical, except one had black hair and the other had brown. Both were tall, muscular, and walked with heavy steps.The class went silent.Nobody said anything.The green-haired boy scanned the room slowly… like he owned it.Then he spotted someone at the back.A small boy.Thin arms. Small frame. Weak posture. Big round glasses. His uniform looked slightly oversized.He sat alone near the window, holding a notebook to his chest like a shield.Arman look
First Day in Class
“All rookies, attention.”The gray-haired instructor stepped forward. Everyone went silent. The cafeteria still smelled like fear and sweat. Arman stood straight, breathing slowly, feeling his heart calm down.“Out of sixty rookies,” the instructor said loudly,“forty-two survived. Eighteen were eliminated. Fourteen had their badges changed.”He paused, letting the numbers hit.“Good. Those who remain are the ones this academy can shape.”A low murmur began in the room. Some rookies sighed in relief. Some looked proud. Some looked scared because they realized barely surviving was still surviving.Arman only nodded. He understood what it meant. He survived… but there was a difference between surviving and winning.The instructors dismissed everyone, telling them to go rest.Arman walked back to his quarters slowly. His legs felt heavy. His mind was replaying every move from the test. Every dodge. Every scream. Every flicker of a badge.Inside the room, he collapsed onto the bed he woke
Nightfall / The Test Ends
The cafeteria was eerily quiet now. The chaos had reached a climax, and Arman crouched behind a toppled table, chest heaving, sweat streaming down his face. The last red badge rookie had lunged at someone across the room, but the strike was deflected by a quick dodge. For a moment, it seemed as if the chaos might never end.Then, slowly, the lights flickered. The deep reds and bright blues of the badges dimmed. The fluorescent glow that had pulsed across the cafeteria for what felt like hours began to fade.Arman exhaled, letting his body relax just slightly. The pulse of Void energy in the room died down, leaving a tense silence. Around him, rookies cautiously peeked from behind overturned chairs and tables. Some had badges flickering weakly; others had changed colors permanently. A few were gone — eliminated.“Status?” Ievon asked calmly.Arman scanned the room. “Most of the rookies are still standing. Several eliminated. A few switched.”He nodded to himself. Every move, every dodg
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