10 Books

George had stacked the pile of books on the table beside his bed. All ten were focused on wrestling, but something immediately stood out—the books looked noticeably cheaper than most of the others he had seen in the academy library.

Where the other volumes were bound in leather or at least durable hardcovers, these wrestling books were made of flimsy paper, the kind that seemed as though it could fall apart at any moment. It was obvious that these hadn't been handled much over the years. 

'Wrestling isn't exactly popular here, huh?' George mused.

What baffled him the most was the fact that the books were written by Legar Augustus, a three-time World Fighting Champion. Augustus had defeated former champions and was regarded by his opponents as the greatest champion ever. But due to media influence—mainly controlled by nobles and prestigious martial arts schools—his name had faded from public memory. 

George dove into the books, ignoring their fragile state. Despite their outward appearance, the content was incredible—detailed instructions with intricate drawings on how to execute various moves. The techniques had different names, but they closely resembled what George had seen in the NCAA wrestling championships back on Earth.

"Lucky…" George whispered to himself as he grabbed his pillow and began using it as a makeshift opponent. He mimicked the moves described in the book, following each instruction with precision. He tossed the pillow around his room, practicing the newly learned techniques, though he wasn't sure if he could pull them off against a real opponent.

As he read further, he came across a workout routine designed to increase explosiveness—an essential attribute in wrestling, as George knew from studying champions like Brock Lesnar. The workout involved exercises with smooth, round stones, the kind they had in the academy gym.

He quickly changed into fresh clothes and left his room, heading toward the class gym, but not before scanning his surroundings cautiously. He hadn't forgotten the barbarian Akshar and the humiliation he'd suffered in front of the academy at the hands of "Oz." George was certain that Akshar hadn't forgotten either.

The last thing George needed was to appear weak and attract unwanted attention from bullies.

He entered the class gym, only to be hit with an overwhelming stench of sweat. The floor was soaked, and the air felt thick with humidity. George gagged, immediately stepping back out of the gym to keep himself from vomiting.

---

Akshar's eyes snapped open, but everything remained dark. "Oz... you trash!" he roared, trying to sit up, but something was restraining him.

No matter how hard he struggled, he couldn't break free.

"This idiot woke up? I thought he'd be out for at least a week…" one of the doctors in the infirmary muttered, glancing at Akshar's bandaged, restrained body.

"Barbarians, man," another doctor said, shaking his head. "They're built differently."

"No kidding, but even for a barbarian, this is crazy fast recovery."

"Let me go!" Akshar demanded, his vision still blurry but gradually improving.

"Sorry, kid. We can't have you running wild and causing trouble, so you'll stay tied up until you're fully healed," the doctor replied.

Akshar's growl reverberated through the room as he began thrashing, making the bed jump under his weight.

"Whoa!" The lead doctor stumbled backward, startled by Akshar's sudden strength. "Get some instructors in here before he breaks loose and beats us both to a pulp."

The assistant nodded and ran out of the room. But before he could get far, he heard a tearing sound and the loud crash of the bed. Turning back, he saw Akshar standing tall, having ripped the restraints off his body.

Akshar's vision sharpened as he locked eyes with the terrified doctors.

They didn't wait for him to make a move. They bolted out of the room, with Akshar immediately giving chase. However, his injuries caught up with him, and he collapsed just as he reached the door.

"Damn it!" he growled, gripping his head, still dizzy from the head injuries he'd sustained. Slowly, he dragged himself upright and slipped out the door. Ahead, he saw the doctors and an instructor running toward him.

"There he is!" they yelled.

Thinking fast, Akshar sprinted down the corridor and turned sharply, vanishing from their sight. When the doctors and instructor reached the corner, he was already gone.

"Damn it!" one of the doctors cursed as they continued searching.

The nearby trash bin shook, and Akshar crawled out from it, his entire body covered in filth. He wiped the grime from his skin as best he could, though the stench remained. Thankfully, the passing students gave him a wide berth, unwilling to involve themselves with a barbarian in a foul mood.

"George… first," Akshar muttered under his breath, his eyes gleaming with fury as he stalked toward the first-year dormitories.

---

A first-year student, dressed in his gym clothes, stepped out of his room only to spot Akshar stomping down the hall. His heart nearly stopped. Without a word, he rushed back inside, locking his door.

Akshar's footsteps echoed as he approached room 77, his target clear in mind. His blurred memories of the incident with "Oz" made him burn with anger. As he reached the door, he mumbled, "77…" over and over, the number imprinted in his mind.

He raised his fist to knock, but before his knuckles could make contact, a swift punch landed on his jaw, sending him crashing to the ground.

It didn't matter who did it, all that matter that George's name didn't appear in the obituary.