The Reject Wing had no formal classes.
No instructors.
No support scrolls, sparring matches, or magic-assisted lectures.
But it had a training yard.
More like a ruined courtyard filled with broken statues and weed-choked tiles, but Aeron wasn't complaining. It was a space.
And space meant work.
By dawn, he was already drenched in sweat.
His shirt lay discarded beside him, soaked. His knuckles were raw, skin torn from punching stone columns over and over. His muscles screamed. His head throbbed.
Perfect.
He liked the pain now.
Not because he enjoyed suffering—but because he could use it.
Every bruise. Every strain. Every crack in his bones—it was data. Fuel.
The Soul Healer spark inside him had shifted since the door's awakening.
Pain was no longer just something to endure.
It was a tool.
He could feel the phantom pain threads humming inside him, thin and sharp, like strings waiting to be pulled.
I'll figure it out on my own.
He'd written out three possible ability concepts in his notebook, but they weren't fully formed. He needed to test them, not wait for confirmation like a system zombie.
So that's what he was doing now.
Punch. Step. Breathe. Redirect. Punch again.
"You're gonna break your damn hands."
Aeron didn't turn. He knew that voice.
Cora. One-eye, nose ring, sass factory.
She leaned against the fence, arms crossed, slurping something questionable from a tin cup.
"You're gonna be useless if you crack your bones before lunch."
"You bring food or sarcasm?" Aeron muttered, not stopping.
"Just vibes today." She took another loud sip. "Also, someone's looking for you."
Aeron paused. "Who?"
"Kael."
That made him stop.
Fully stop.
"He's here?"
"Yup. Waiting outside the Reject Wing like he's allergic to bad reputations."
A few minutes later, Aeron stood at the edge of the Wing, arms folded, face neutral.
Kael stood just outside the boundary line.
His uniform was spotless. Emblem of House Raithe polished to a gleam. Hair slicked back. Eyes uncertain.
He didn't cross the line. Smart.
"You look like shit," Kael said.
"Thanks." Aeron shrugged. "You look like a sellout."
Kael flinched, but didn't argue.
"I didn't know what they were planning. I swear."
"You watched them do it."
"I froze, alright?!" Kael's voice cracked. "I was scared! What was I supposed to do, throw a fireball at your father in front of the whole noble court?!"
"No." Aeron's voice was ice. "You were supposed to stand up. Say something. Anything."
Kael didn't reply.
The silence stretched long.
Finally, Aeron turned to leave.
"Aeron—wait. I came to warn you."
That stopped him.
"Thorne's planning something. You being here—still breathing? It's pissing him off."
"Good."
"No. I mean he's sending someone. A test."
Aeron turned fully now.
"What kind of test?"
"Someone from Class B. A real fighter. Probably tonight. Off-record. They'll say it was a 'training session gone wrong.'"
"And they'll cover it up?"
Kael nodded once.
"Thanks for the heads up." Aeron stepped back into the shadow of the Wing. "Now leave before they wonder who you're loyal to."
Kael didn't argue.
Didn't say sorry again.
Just walked away.
Night fell fast.
The Reject Wing had no guards. No curfew. No protection.
So when the attack came, no one saw it coming.
Except Aeron.
He'd been waiting.
The training courtyard was quiet. Moonlight filtered through broken rafters. Cora had gone to sleep—or vanished. The rest of the wing was dead silent.
Then the air shifted.
Aeron didn't move.
Didn't need to.
He could feel it.
The vibration.
The pressure.
Footsteps.
Then a voice.
"You Aeron Valen?"
A shadow dropped into the courtyard. A tall figure in light combat gear, two hooked blades on his back. No crest. No rank badge. Just cold eyes and a grin.
"Name's Bale. Class B. Thorne says hi."
"He sent a dog," Aeron said calmly. "Should've brought a leash."
Bale smirked. "Cute."
Without warning, he lunged.
Fast. Too fast for a normal B-rank.
Aeron dodged sideways, barely avoiding the slash aimed at his ribs.
Flash Step. His body moved instinctively. Momentum flipped.
He slid past the second blade, twisted, and aimed a low kick toward Bale's side.
It connected—but not hard enough.
Bale spun, slicing toward Aeron's neck.
Aeron ducked, stumbled, and took a hit across his shoulder—just a graze, but enough to sting.
Blood.
Pain.
He focused.
Ability Trigger: Pain Split.
He didn't need a system window to tell him it worked. He could feel it—that string of agony, severed from his nerves, redirecting like a coiled whip.
And then—snap.
Bale flinched mid-swing. His arm twitched. His knee buckled slightly.
Got you.
Aeron surged forward. Lightning pulsed in his palm—not a spell, but a reflex.
He slammed a Spark Pulse into Bale's chest.
A jolt.
Stagger.
Open window.
He followed with a clean roundhouse to the face.
Bale hit the ground.
Hard.
But he wasn't down long.
He coughed, wiped blood from his mouth, and grinned.
"You're better than the rumors say."
"And you're slower than your ego."
Bale's grin widened—and then his body shifted.
His skin rippled. Hair darkened. Eyes went sharp.
Enhancement art. Martial type.
He's using forbidden boosters.
Aeron's muscles tensed. He couldn't match that head-on.
Then don't.
Bale lunged again, faster than before. This time, Aeron didn't dodge. He moved in—tight range, inside his enemy's rhythm.
He let the first strike graze him across the ribs.
It hurt. But it gave him what he needed.
Pain Split: Redirect.
He twisted, transferred the pain spike directly into Bale's left thigh.
Bale staggered.
Rhythm Break.
Aeron's body flowed like water. He dropped low, swept Bale's leg, then rose with a brutal uppercut that snapped the older student's jaw sideways.
"You fight too clean," Aeron muttered. "People like you think rules make you strong."
He grabbed Bale by the collar.
"I've got nothing left to lose."
He smashed his head into Bale's nose. Once. Twice.
Blood exploded.
Bale stopped moving.
Aeron stood over him, panting, blood dripping from his brow, ribs bruised.
He didn't smile.
Didn't roar.
Just… stood there.
Because this wasn't victory.
This was survival.
He spat onto the ground.
"Tell Thorne I'm not staying quiet."
[End of Chapter 4]