A week had ground by since Nova and Adam's first blood-soaked training in the Guild of America, their bodies now a patchwork of fading bruises and raw determination. The training hall was a savage arena, its cracked stone floor scarred from years of magical beatdowns, its walls pulsing with runes that flickered like dying stars.
The air reeked of charred metal and sweat, alive with chaos: fire mages blasted straw dummies, their flames roaring up to singe the ceiling; earth manipulators hurled jagged boulders, splitting the ground; wind-weavers spun gusts that sent sparks skittering like drunk lightning bugs.
Nova slouched against a reinforced glass barrier, his crimson eyes tracking Adam in the arena below, where the scrawny kid faced a holographic Beastaria wolf. Marcus loomed beside him, his grizzled face set in a scowl that barely masked a flicker of hope. The hall buzzed with adventurers, their sigils—one or two pillars—flashing as they shouted bets or jeered, their voices a gritty chorus over the clang of training weapons.
The wolf was a digital nightmare, conjured by the hall's projectors: eight feet of rippling fur, glitching with static, its red eyes glowing like hellfire coals. Its claws, curved like butcher knives, gleamed, and its fangs bared in a snarl that vibrated the air.
It stalked Adam, its massive paws cracking the stone with each step, its tail lashing like a whip. Adam, all skin and bones, gripped a padded staff, his glasses fogged with sweat, his thin frame dwarfed by the beast's bulk.
Blood already soaked his sleeve, a deep gash from an earlier claw swipe dripping red onto the floor, each drop a stark splash against the gray stone.
Adam swung his staff, a desperate arc that grazed the wolf's flank, the hologram shimmering but unyielding. The beast lunged, its jaws snapping an inch from his face, hot breath simulated so well Adam flinched, stumbling back.
His sneakers skidded on the blood-slick stone, his breath coming in panicked gasps. The crowd roared, some cheering, others mocking, their voices a brutal tide. Nova's golden circles itched, pillarless and useless, his frustration a tight knot in his chest.
"Kid's got balls, but he's getting fucking shredded," Marcus growled, his voice rough as a bar brawl. He shot Nova a glance, eyes narrowing like he was sizing up a street rat. "You're looking like hammered shit, Chosen Child. Still no pillars? What, you waiting for a divine fucking PowerPoint to awaken your sorry ass?" His smirk was half-taunt, half-dare, his weathered face creasing with grim amusement.
Nova snorted, his black leather jacket scuffed from a week of pummeling, his circles burning like a bad rash. "Fuck off, Marcus. This mortal crap ain't got a manual, and I ain't your damn intern," he snapped, his voice gritty but edged with a cocky grin. I'm a goddamn god, stuck watching Glasses get mauled by a fake wolf, he thought, frustration clawing at him. "Adam's swinging, at least. Me? I'm a blank, and it's pissing me the hell off."
He'd let slip to Marcus once, in a moment of dumb pride, that he was a god before coming to Earth. Marcus had laughed, called him a delusional idiot, and shrugged it off like Nova was spouting drunk nonsense.
Now, Nova's jaw tightened, the memory stinging as he watched Adam fight for his life. I'm nothing here without pillars, he thought, his hand flexing, the golden circles mocking his mortal limits.
In the arena, Adam stumbled, his staff slipping as the wolf charged, its claws raking his chest. A spray of blood erupted, his shirt tearing to rags, a deep gash oozing red across his ribs, the wound glistening under the hall's harsh lights.
He yelped, his glasses flying off, clattering across the stone, and his knees buckled, his body swaying like a broken reed. The wolf reared, its holographic jaws gaping, ready to crush his throat. The crowd gasped, some wincing, others leaning forward, their bets hinging on Adam's next move.
Then, something broke loose. Adam's right hand blazed, his golden circles flaring like twin suns. A single black pillar snapped into place, bridging the rings, its inky line stark and unyielding.
A surge of energy pulsed through him, his skin shimmering with a scale-like sheen that hardened for a heartbeat before fading. The wolf's claws struck, but they skidded off, drawing only a shallow cut, blood trickling instead of gushing.
The crowd roared, the noise shaking the glass, as Adam rolled, his movements sharper, fueled by a raw, new instinct.
"Holy fuck!" Marcus bellowed, slamming a fist against the glass so hard it shuddered. "The kid's awakened! One pillar, F-rank, right in the damn clutch!" His eyes gleamed like he'd just hustled a fortune, his grin wide enough to crack his jaw. "He hit 98% potential, then beats the Continental record of 95%! Then awakens an ability in only a week of training! I'm gonna be a legend for this!" Nova's gut twisted, awe and envy spiking like cheap liquor.
Adam's got a pillar, and I'm still a blank. This is fucking bullshit, he thought, his circles searing, urging him to match the kid's leap.
The wolf didn't give a shit about Adam's awakening. It pounced, its claws slashing his thigh, blood spraying in a crimson arc as he screamed, his body crumpling under the holographic force.
His new pillar pulsed, his skin shimmering again, deflecting a fraction of the blow, but it wasn't enough. The beast slammed him down, its paw cracking the stone, pinning him like a bug.
Its fangs hovered inches from his face, blood pooling beneath him from gashes on his arm, chest, and leg, his breaths ragged, eyes half-shut but burning with a stubborn spark.
Adam fought back, his staff swinging in a weak arc, clipping the wolf's jaw. The hologram snarled, unfazed, and swiped again, its claws tearing a fresh gash across his shoulder, blood gushing, soaking his torn jacket.
He gasped, his body trembling, but he thrust the staff upward, jabbing the beast's eye, forcing it to recoil. The crowd cheered, a savage roar, as Adam dragged himself to his knees, blood dripping in thick rivulets, his face pale as death but his grip tight.
"Kid's a fucking scrapper!" Marcus laughed, his voice booming over the noise. "Look at him, Nova! You could learn something, sitting there with your thumb up your ass!" He elbowed Nova, hard, his grin all teeth.
Nova glared, his smirk thin. "Yeah? Maybe I'll awaken when you stop yapping like a drunk uncle," he shot back, but his eyes stayed on Adam, respect creeping in. He's half-dead and still fighting. I'm falling behind, already.
The wolf lunged again, its jaws clamping around Adam's arm, blood spurting as he screamed, the hologram's teeth sinking deep. He swung his staff one-handed, smashing the beast's snout, but his strength was fading, his body slumping.
The pillar pulsed, his skin hardening briefly, but the wolf's weight crushed him, its claws raking his side, another gash opening, blood flooding the stone. Adam's eyes fluttered, his spark dimming, his body on the verge of breaking.
Marcus cursed, his hand smashing the control panel's kill switch. The wolf flickered and dissolved, its hologram shattering into sparks that fizzled on the blood-soaked floor. The hall's runes dimmed, the sensors overhead flashing red, then black, as the crowd fell silent, their bets forgotten. Adam lay sprawled, his chest heaving, blood streaming from gashes on his arm, chest, thigh, and shoulder, his cracked glasses lost somewhere in the carnage.
Marcus bolted into the arena, Nova right behind, their boots pounding the cracked stone, the air thick with the coppery stink of blood. The Vice Guild Master dropped to his knees beside Adam, checking his pulse, his face a mix of worry and pride.
"You're a tough little bastard, Glasses," he growled, his voice rough but warm.
Nova crouched nearby, his own bruises throbbing, his crimson eyes scanning Adam's wrecked form. Kid's got more fight than half this guild, he thought, his frustration morphing into grudging respect. But I'm still a blank. I need to awaken, or I'm fucking useless.
Adam stirred, coughing, blood flecking his lips as he fumbled for his glasses, miraculously intact a few feet away. Marcus steadied him, his D-rank sigil glowing faintly as he helped the kid sit up, blood staining his hands.
"Alright, you little shit," Marcus said, his tone urgent, a grin cracking through. "What's your ability? Spill it, now!" His eyes locked on Adam's new pillar, its black line a stark promise, the golden circles still pulsing with faint light.
Adam's voice was a hoarse rasp, his face ghost-white, blood trickling from his cuts. "Adaptive Hide," he whispered, his eyes flickering with pain and defiance. The words hung heavy, the training hall's air still, as if the runes themselves held their breath.