Swordsmanship class I

I woke up early, greeted by the first light of dawn as it crept through my window. After a quick stretch, I headed straight for the showers. The cold water was bracing, clearing away the last remnants of sleep and refreshing my mind. After drying off, I pulled on my tracking clothes, ready for the morning jog.

As I stepped outside, the sky was painted in hues of indigo and violet, the early morning air still clinging to the last chill of the night. The horizon was just beginning to stir with light, but not yet fully awake. As I jogged along the academy's path, the world around me felt suspended in a moment between night and day. The grass shimmered with dew, and the birds were beginning to call out, their songs hesitant as if singing a rhythmic tone swaying with nature.

And then, I saw it—the dawn of twilight. The deep purples of the sky gradually melted into soft blues, and a faint pink glow edged the clouds. It was as if the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for the sun to break through. For a brief second, I stopped running, standing still as I watched the sky shift before me, a sight that felt almost magical in its quiet power. It reminded me that even in a place where the rules of reality seemed different, there were still moments like these—simple, unchanging. It was simply uplifting, no wonder people used to tell me that looking at the sunrise raises motivation. It was just mesmerizing.

I resumed jogging, my feet hitting the ground in steady rhythm, the cool morning air brushing against my skin as I kept pace with the fading stars and the first light of dawn. The academy grounds, usually bustling with students and faculty, were now peaceful, bathed in the soft glow of twilight merging into morning. The stillness of the early hours had a calming effect, offering a brief escape from the whirlwind of training, classes, and the burdens I carried since arriving in this world.

As I ran through the grounds, I noticed other students stirring for their morning exercises. Among them were some familiar faces—Arthur, who jogged with purpose but kept a stoic distance, and Elanor, her mana presence subtly pushing the air around her as she effortlessly matched my pace from a distance. The other students of Class S and other classes were scattered across the paths, each locked in their own routines. This early morning was a chance for everyone to shake off the previous day's efforts and prepare for another grueling day ahead.

Midway through my jog, I got the sense that I was being watched. It was an instinctual feeling, the same kind I'd had since my previous life. Slowing my pace slightly, I glanced over my shoulder and caught sight of Jasmine. She was standing near one of the benches, her blue/black hair catching the first rays of dawn. She was staring in my direction, though the moment our eyes met, she quickly averted her gaze, pretending to busy herself with something else. It was strange—Jasmine, who usually kept to herself, had been observing me more often lately. I wondered briefly what it meant, but I let it go for now, focusing back on my route.

As I continued, I spotted Marcus and his usual crew of goons lingering near the training fields. They weren't trying to hide their presence, though they kept their distance. I could feel their eyes on me, but it wasn't the usual aggression I'd come to expect from them. It seemed that my sudden rise in the class, thanks to Instructor Bratt's attention, had at least temporarily deterred them from causing trouble. Marcus, usually the type to bully students to do his bidding, now seemed more calculating, perhaps waiting for an opportunity. But for now, he was content to watch, keeping his distance with that smug look he always wore.

I pushed through the final lap, my thoughts momentarily returning to the conflicts in the academy—rivalries, tensions, and the ever-present need to prove myself. The twilight was giving way to dawn, and with it came the promise of another day filled with training and tests. But in these quiet moments, as I jogged through the academy grounds, there was a certain peace in knowing that, for now, I was moving forward, one step at a time.

Once I had completed my laps, I made my way to the training room. The atmosphere was dense, thick with the scent of sweat and a faint hum of mana energy that seemed to vibrate through the space. The rhythmic clanking of weights, the steady beat of footsteps hitting the floor during step-ups, and the sharp thuds of practice swords striking futuristic dummies filled the room. I wiped the sweat from my brow, steeling myself for the next round of exercises.

I started with a series of push-ups, feeling each muscle strain as I lowered myself to the floor, my arms burning with the effort. After a set, I transitioned into sit-ups, pulling my body up in a smooth, controlled motion. Every time I reached the top of the movement, I could feel the tension in my core. Next came planks—holding the position for what felt like an eternity, arms shaking slightly as I kept my form tight. The minutes ticked by slowly, each second stretching as I fought to keep my back straight and my core engaged.

After the bodyweight exercises, I moved on to weightlifting. Grabbing the barbell, I could feel the reassuring weight of the metal in my hands. Each lift was methodical—I kept my form solid, my focus sharp, as I worked through clean lifts and deadlifts. The weight challenged my muscles, and I could feel the strain in my legs and back as I pushed through, sweat dripping down my face.

The next stop was swordsmanship training. In front of me stood one of the academy's practice dummies, a futuristic design covered in sleek metallic plates. It was outfitted with sensitive mana sensors that could detect the force and precision of each strike. The dummies were often used in exams, gauging a student's mastery of various techniques or measuring raw strength during combat tests.

I gripped my practice sword, feeling the familiar weight of it in my hands. As I swung, the blade sliced through the air with a whistle before meeting the hard surface of the dummy. Each strike sent a vibration through my arms, and I adjusted my stance, increasing my speed and precision with every hit. The dummy, with its glossy exterior and responsive tech, tracked the damage of each blow, flashing numbers across its surface—feedback on the force and accuracy of each swing.

After a series of strikes, I headed for the gravity room. The moment I stepped inside, I could feel the shift. The artificial gravity weighed down on my shoulders, making every movement feel heavier, slower. Lifting my sword became a battle of endurance, as though the air itself was pressing down on me. Each swing felt like a monumental effort, but I pushed through, my muscles screaming as I adjusted to the added pressure.

After what felt like hours, I finally left the gravity room, my body drenched in sweat, and it was there that I ran into Arthur. His calm demeanor contrasted sharply with the weight of my fatigue, but I nodded at him, acknowledging his presence. His movements were precise, focused, as if everything he did had a purpose.

"Didn't expect to see you out here this early," I said, leaning back against a nearby bench, stretching my arms.

Arthur smirked, wiping his own face with a towel. "Same to you. Saw you in the gravity room earlier—pushing yourself hard today?"

I shrugged. "Gotta keep up somehow. This place makes you feel like you're behind if you don't."

"Yeah," Arthur nodded, his expression thoughtful. "But it's not all about raw strength, you know. You can't rely on muscle alone."

I chuckled, shaking my head. "True, but having a little extra doesn't hurt, right?"

Arthur grinned, more relaxed now. "Fair enough. Just remember, it's about control too. You burn out fast if you don't balance the two."

There was a comfortable silence for a moment, the noise of the training room filling the gap. Arthur wasn't like the others here—he actually worked for his skills, didn't coast on natural talent. But still, I wasn't planning to get too close.

As I started to walk away, Arthur called out, "You're doing alright, Darius. Keep it up, and you might surprise some people."

I turned back with a small smile. "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

The interaction was brief but felt genuine—something that didn't happen often around here.

With that, I made my way back to my training, still feeling the weight of his words. Arthur wasn't one for casual compliments, so it meant something. But as much as I respected him, I couldn't let myself get distracted. This academy was full of power players, and Arthur was one of them. Keeping things at arm's length felt like the safest choice for now.