Trash Warrior Becomes War God

CHAPTER 6

The training ground remained silent, every eye fixed on Captain Bennett as he leaned against the cracked wall, his supposedly unbreakable Earth Shield flickering and dying around him. His chest heaved, and sweat poured down his face despite the afternoon heat having nothing to do with his condition.

"Master, shall we—" Benjamin began.

"Stop calling me that!" Marco hissed, grabbing the old man's sleeve. "Especially not in public!"

Benjamin blinked, then understanding dawned. "Ah. Forgive me. Then... Young Master?"

Marco groaned. "That's not much better."

"It's the minimum respect I can show," Benjamin said firmly. "You possess the War God's complete inheritance. You are teaching me techniques that haven't been seen in centuries. I cannot simply call you by name."

"Young Master?" Sofia's voice was faint. She stared at Marco like she'd never seen him before. "Derek, what's going on? Who is this man really? And what does he mean by divine blessing?"

"It's complicated—"

"You keep saying that!" Sofia's frustration boiled over. "Nothing about this is complicated! Either you received a blessing or you didn't! Either this old man is actually your servant or he's not!"

"I am his disciple," Benjamin corrected. "There's a difference."

"That doesn't make it less insane!" Sofia threw up her hands. "Yesterday you were a Level 0 nobody! Today you're a Level 1 warrior with a legendary elder calling you 'Young Master' and teaching Fatal Strike to prove your worth!"

"Wait." Bennett's voice cut through the chaos. He'd managed to stand, though he still favored his chest. "Did you say Fatal Strike? As in, the old man learned it from him?" He pointed a shaking finger at Marco. "That's impossible. Fatal Strike is a Great War Master technique. You'd need decades of experience just to understand the theory!"

"I had a good teacher," Benjamin said smoothly.

"In one day?" Bennett's laugh was bitter. "No. No, that's not possible. Unless..." His eyes widened. "The divine inheritance. You're saying he received the actual combat knowledge? The techniques imprinted directly into his mind?"

"Among other things." Benjamin's smile was smug. "Why do you think I kneel to a Level 1 boy? Because he possesses what every warrior has searched for since the Great Severance. The complete path. Every skill, every technique, every secret the War God once taught."

"Then fight me." Bennett pushed off from the wall, ignoring the way his legs trembled. "Not you, old man. Him. If he's so great, if he really has this divine inheritance, let him prove it himself."

"You're Level 8," Marco said flatly. "I'm Level 1. How is that fair?"

"I'll suppress myself to Level 1. Equal footing." Bennett's grin was vicious despite his obvious pain. "Unless you're scared, mongrel?"

"Giovanni—" Father Dominic stepped forward. "That's your name, isn't it? I've heard the students use it. You're in no condition to fight anyone right now."

"Stay out of this, priest!" Giovanni Bennett's eyes blazed. "This half-blood trash and his pet elder just humiliated me in front of the entire academy! I'm not walking away until I've proven that warriors are still worthless, blessing or not!"

"You want to be humiliated twice in one day?" Benjamin's voice dripped with contempt. "How tiresome."

"I'll make you a wager, old man." Giovanni's smile turned nasty. "Your precious Young Master fights me at Level 1. If he wins, I'll admit warriors aren't complete garbage. But if I win—when I win—you call me Grandpa Giovanni for the rest of your miserable life."

Benjamin's expression darkened. "You dare—"

"I accept."

Every head turned to Marco.

"You can't be serious," Sofia said. "Derek, he's an eighth-level knight with battlefield experience! Even suppressed to Level 1, he has decades of combat knowledge!"

"So do I." Marco stepped into the ring, feeling the divine mark on his chest pulse with approval. "Besides, this gets him off your back. You need to prepare for Vincent, not waste time dealing with Giovanni's ego."

"My ego?" Giovanni laughed. "Boy, I'm about to teach you the difference between divine dreams and battlefield reality." He drew his sword, and even suppressed, the weapon gleamed with quality far beyond anything Marco had access to. "Come on, then. Show me this legendary inheritance."

Marco picked up a training sword from the rack. Plain wood, unbalanced, but it would do. He took his stance, and immediately Giovanni's expression shifted.

"That form..." Giovanni's eyes narrowed. "That's not standard academy teaching."

"War Challenge!" Marco's voice rang out, and Fighting Spirit erupted from his body—visible, tangible, rolling across the training ground like a wave. The skill activated perfectly, the buff settling over him like a second skin.

Giovanni's jaw dropped. "You can manifest Fighting Spirit? At Level 1? That's... that's impossible! Most warriors don't achieve visible spirit until Level 15 at minimum!"

"Your guard is open," Marco said calmly, and struck.

His fist crashed into Giovanni's face before the knight could react. The blow was precise, perfectly timed, carrying the weight of proper technique behind it. Giovanni's head snapped back, blood exploding from his nose.

"You mongrel!" Giovanni wiped his face, his expression transforming from shock to rage. "Lucky shot! Let's see you try that again!" Golden light surrounded him. "Blessing of Speed! Blessing of Strength! Blessing of—"

Marco moved through the sequence like he'd done it ten thousand times. "Disarm!" His training sword hooked Giovanni's blade, twisted, and sent it flying. The knight stumbled, off-balance, reaching desperately for his weapon.

"Armor Break!" Marco's second strike hit Giovanni's chest, and the golden Blessing of Protection shattered. The knight gasped, backpedaling.

"How are you—"

"Shield Bash!" Marco didn't have a shield, but the skill activated anyway, his shoulder driving into Giovanni's sternum. The knight crashed to the ground, the wind knocked out of him.

"Impossible," Giovanni wheezed. "Those are... those are combo chains. Advanced techniques. You shouldn't know how to—"

"Get up." Marco's voice was cold. "You wanted to see the divine inheritance. I'm showing you."

Giovanni climbed to his feet, his earlier confidence completely gone. "Armor of Holy Light!" The most powerful defensive blessing knights possessed materialized around him, turning his body into a fortress of golden radiance. "There! Break that, warrior! This blessing has never been penetrated by an equal-level opponent!"

"Never been penetrated by the crippled warriors you're used to fighting," Benjamin called from the sidelines. "Young Master, show him Penetrating Strike."

Marco's eyes gleamed. That was a Level 25 skill in Sky Game, designed specifically to bypass heavy armor. He reached for it—and there it was, burning in his mind with crystal clarity.

"Penetrating Strike!" His training sword became a spear of focused energy, driving forward with devastating precision. It hit the Armor of Holy Light dead center.

The golden barrier held for exactly two seconds. Then cracks spider-webbed across its surface.

"No," Giovanni whispered. "No, that's not possible. Nothing at Level 1 can—"

The armor shattered.

Marco's blade stopped an inch from Giovanni's throat. The training ground was silent except for Giovanni's ragged breathing and the sound of golden fragments dissipating into nothing.

"Yield," Marco said quietly.

"Never!" Giovanni's hands moved in a desperate pattern. "Holy Light Thunder Punishment!"

"That's a forbidden technique!" Father Dominic shouted. "Giovanni, stop!"

But it was too late. Lightning erupted from Giovanni's hands, a massive bolt that consumed his remaining Holy Light and struck down at Marco like the judgment of heaven itself. Thunder cracked across the training ground. Students screamed and dove for cover. The bolt hit Marco dead center, and dust exploded outward, obscuring everything.

When the dust settled, Giovanni was on his knees, completely drained of power. And Marco stood before him, his training sword resting against the knight's neck, not a scratch visible on his body.

"How..." Giovanni's voice was barely a whisper. "I used everything. Every blessing. Even Thunder Punishment. How are you still standing?"

"Because I know something you don't." Marco lowered his sword. "Warriors aren't weak. They never were. You've just been fighting broken shadows of what we're supposed to be."

Benjamin approached, his expression vindicated. "Well, Captain? Ready to call me Grandpa?"

"I..." Giovanni stared at his trembling hands. "I lost. To a Level 1 warrior. I used eight different blessings, activated Armor of Holy Light, even risked Holy Light Thunder Punishment..." He looked up at Marco, and for the first time, there was no contempt in his eyes. Only disbelief. "Who are you? Really?"

"Someone trying to survive in a world that isn't his," Marco said quietly. "Just like everyone else."

"The War God's chosen," Benjamin corrected. "The bearer of the complete inheritance. The one who will restore the warrior profession to its rightful glory." He turned to address the crowd. "Let this be a lesson to all of you! The warrior path is not dead! It was sleeping, waiting for the right person to awaken it!"

Sofia approached slowly, her expression unreadable. "Derek... no, Marco. That's your real name, isn't it? Marco Rossi."

Marco's blood ran cold. "How did you—"

"You talk in your sleep." Her smile was sad. "I heard you, those first few days after we found you. You kept saying that name. Kept asking where the logout button was, where the menu was. I thought you were delirious." She touched his arm gently. "You're not from here, are you? Not really."

Marco couldn't answer.

"It doesn't matter." Sofia's grip tightened. "You're here now. You saved my life in that forest when you could have run. You chose the warrior path when everyone said you'd die. You just defeated an eighth-level knight at Level 1." Her eyes shimmered. "Whoever you were before, whoever you are now... you're still the person who matters to me."

"Sofia—"

"Now come on." She pulled him toward the training grounds' exit. "We both have duels to prepare for. Vincent in two days, and after watching you fight, I think I finally understand what I've been doing wrong."

As they walked away, Giovanni remained kneeling in the dirt, staring at his hands. His Armor of Holy Light—the supposedly unbreakable defense—had been shattered by a Level 1 warrior.

Everything he'd believed about the warrior profession was wrong.

"Get up, Giovanni." Benjamin's voice was surprisingly gentle. "The world is changing. You can either change with it or be left behind."

The captain looked up at the old warrior, then at Marco's retreating back. "Teach me," he said hoarsely. "Whatever he knows, whatever techniques he has... I want to learn."

Benjamin smiled. "That, Captain, is the wisest thing you've said all day. But first—" His expression turned stern. "—you owe me a 'Grandpa.'"

Giovanni's face flushed, but he bowed his head. "Grandpa."

"Good boy." Benjamin helped him to his feet. "Now let's get that spiritual damage looked at. And then... then we'll talk about what it means to face a true warrior."

The sun was setting over Kensington Academy, painting the training grounds in shades of gold and red. A new age was dawning for the warrior profession.

And at its center stood Marco Rossi—a man from another world, carrying a legacy that could change everything.