Chapter 6 Torture Training (1)

Words : 1275 Updated : Sep 10th, 2025

After spending some time with Rose, I let her drift off to socialize with others while I made my quiet exit. I had more important things to do. The moment I was alone, my mind settled back into one singular thought—strength. No distractions. No detours. No pointless socializing. I needed to get stronger. I arrived at the training facility, swiping my I.D. card at the scanner. A soft beep, a quiet whirr, and the door slid open. The private training rooms at Mythos Academy were, of course, state-of-the-art, the kind of thing most warriors could only dream of. The best mana circulation, spell replication, automated sparring dummies, reinforced walls that could withstand anything below Integration-rank explosions—you name it, this place had it. A personal training chamber, reserved exclusively for every Class A student. This was where legends sharpened themselves. And this was where I was going to break myself. Step One: Evaluate Arthur Nightingale. Not as a protagonist. Not as a swordsman with potential. Just as a body with stats that needed fixing. First problem—no Art. Combat Arts were essential, sophisticated techniques passed down through legacies that dictated a warrior's style, power, and efficiency. I had none. Thankfully, as a Class A student, I would receive a Grade 5 Art automatically. Problem solved. Second problem—no Gift. That was worse. Gifts were natural-born abilities—inherited talents, bloodline blessings, cheat codes for reality. I had none. Every other Class A student had at least one, and some had several. This, however, I could fix. The solution? Beast Will acquisition. Third problem—low mana rank. And this? This was the real issue. Searᴄh the Novёlƒire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The rest of Class A stood at mid-Silver, high-Silver, or even White-rank. Meanwhile, I was comfortably sitting at low Silver, which was another way of saying, I was a toddler surrounded by adults with sharp weapons and questionable morals. This wasn't something I could afford to ignore. Thankfully, I knew a way to fix this. Unfortunately, that method was torture. The growth of a mana core—at least until Integration-rank—was determined almost entirely by talent. The speed at which one absorbed ambient mana, purified it, and reinforced their core dictated everything. But. There was a way to force the process. A method so brutal that even the novel had only ever mentioned it as a desperation move. You break your body. Not metaphorically. Not in the "push past your limits" kind of way. You literally tear your mana circuits apart, force them into overload, and make them rebuild themselves stronger—resulting in faster mana absorption, higher purity, and rapid core strengthening. It was effective. It was also madness. Most people never attempted it because the pain alone was enough to shatter their minds. And yet, here I was. Seriously considering it. I clenched my fists. Ren Kagu had placed his hand on my shoulder, and in that moment, I had realized a terrifying truth— I couldn't move. Not because I didn't want to. Not because I was being cautious. Because if I had moved, if I had even thought of attacking him, he would have overpowered me instantly. Not just him. Even Seraphina, the weakest of the seven, could drop me in one movement if she wanted to. I was not at their level. Not even close. And I had to get there. No. I had to surpass them. I exhaled. My heart was steady. My mind was clear. There was only one thing left to do. I walked toward the training equipment, ready to tear myself apart so I could put myself back together. It was time to start the torture. I sat cross-legged in the center of the training room, closing my eyes. No weapons. No techniques. No movement. Just mana. I knew this body. Arthur's instincts, his experiences, his understanding of mana—they were all mine now. My hands remembered the weight of a sword, my body remembered the way to move, and my mana circuits—they remembered how to absorb and refine mana. But remembering wasn't enough. I needed to force them to evolve. I inhaled deeply, steadying my breath. The air was thick with ambient mana, drifting invisibly, waiting to be seized. And so, I seized it. The moment I began absorbing, my circuits roared to life. Mana poured into me, flowing through the pathways in my body, filling my core. But that wasn't enough. I forced more in, dragging in the surrounding energy like a drowning man gulping down air. It burned. A deep, searing pain ignited in my veins as my circuits strained under the influx. My muscles twitched, my skin prickled like fire ants had burrowed into my flesh. This was beyond natural absorption—I was deliberately overloading my body, pushing it to its absolute limit. Break, heal, refine. That was the method. The only method that could close the gap between me and the monsters of Class A. I clenched my fists, forcing my body to compress and purify the mana faster. My sternum throbbed, the pressure in my core growing unbearable as the low Silver-rank mana core struggled to expand. Then— Crack. A sharp pain stabbed through my chest, stealing my breath. I gritted my teeth. Good. That meant it was working. The mana circuits splintered under the force, but instead of stopping, I dragged in even more mana, demanding that my body adapt. If it couldn't keep up, it would just have to change. A wave of agony shot through me as the circuits began repairing themselves, knitting back together stronger than before. More. I pulled in another surge of mana, shoving it into my core with brutal efficiency. The pain became white-hot, like molten iron being poured through my veins. My vision blurred. I was on the edge. My body was screaming at me to stop. To rest. To slow down before I tore something apart permanently. But I couldn't stop. Not when Ren's grip had rooted me in place like a helpless insect. Not when I knew that Seraphina, the weakest of the seven, could put me on my knees in an instant. I wasn't going to be the weakest link. I let out a slow, ragged breath, forcing the mana through the cracks again. Breaking. Healing. Refining. Time passed. Minutes, hours—I lost count. The pain didn't lessen. It only deepened, embedding itself into my bones, becoming a permanent companion. My entire body ached, sweat drenching my uniform, my muscles twitching from sheer exhaustion. And yet— I could feel it. A difference. The mana moved faster now. The absorption was smoother. My circuits had adjusted, slightly wider, slightly stronger. It wasn't much. But it was a start. A sharp knock echoed through the room. "Training grounds are shutting down," a voice called from the door. I blinked, finally coming back to reality. My hands were shaking. My chest felt like I had been run over by a carriage. My vision was hazy with exhaustion. I turned my head toward the digital clock near the entrance. 10:00 PM. I had been here for ten hours straight. I exhaled, pushing myself up. My limbs felt like lead, but I was still standing. Still breathing. Still here. I nodded toward the staff member at the door. "Understood. I'll leave now." My legs felt like they were moving through mud as I stepped out of the training room, but deep inside, I knew something had changed. It wasn't enough. Not yet. But I was getting there.

Chapter 6 Torture Training (1)

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