Chapter 79: Trying Out Some Moves

Chapter 79: Trying Out Some MovesOne month had passed. The last time Inigo stood in the courtyard of the Magical Academy, he was just some curious transfer student with a few tricks up his sleeve and a burger empire beginning to take root. Now, after thirty days of relentless, self-imposed training, he had returned—not just sharper, but faster, stronger, and deadlier. And he was ready to show it. The morning sun bathed the marble walkways of the academy in gold as students in their signature uniforms milled about, gossiping, training, or rushing to their lectures. Magic users practiced their spells near the spellcasting towers while martial students dueled with wooden swords in the eastern yard. Inigo made his way to the training field reserved for solo practice. It was open, flat, surrounded by small cliffs and trees that had seen hundreds of spells and arrows fly by them. Today, it would see something new. He stretched once, cracking his knuckles and rolling his shoulders. "Let’s start small," Inigo whispered. He planted his feet—and leapt. A normal jump would’ve brought him two feet off the ground. But this wasn’t normal. With a focused pulse of his augmented leg strength and a subtle shift of magical energy, Inigo bent the air beneath him. Sёarᴄh the NôvelFire.nёt website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. And jumped again—mid-air. "Double jump successful," he muttered as he landed softly ten meters away. In his previous world, it was an impossible move. It only existed in games where action and combat are the theme. But here, with his enchantment magic, he could do it without breaking a sweat, and the good thing is, he could control it using only his imagination of him doing double jumps. Now for the next. He dashed forward. No, he blinked. A white streak blurred from where he was to where he stopped, covering thirty feet in an instant. He stood behind a mock target mannequin with a sword raised—but paused. "Still not instant... but damn close," he whispered, grinning. From his side holster, he pulled the Desert Eagle in a smooth draw, the sunlight glinting off its barrel. Targets shimmered into being—magic-created illusions programmed to move unpredictably, side-stepping, dodging, and zig-zagging at variable speeds. Ten in total, spread across the clearing. BANG. BANG. BANG. The first three dropped instantly, clean holes between their eyes. Inigo moved with fluid precision, spinning on his heel and sliding into cover behind a boulder, then popping up for another shot. BANG. BANG. Two more gone. Three targets circled, trying to flank him—he blink-dashed behind them, reversed grip, and aimed upward in mid-air. BANG. BANG. One missed. Inigo twisted, landed in a roll, and fired again. BANG. The last two tried to bolt. "Not today." He switched the ammo type mid-reload—a function that shouldn’t have been possible but was added thanks to his enchantment magic, Cryo Rounds loaded. BANG. An ice shot froze the target mid-run. He walked calmly toward the final one, who turned and sprinted with realistic AI fear. He didn’t even aim. He blinked forward again. And fired point-blank. BANG. Smoke lifted from the barrel. "Not bad," Inigo said, holstering the gun. But he wasn’t done. He turned toward the artificial cliff, its ledges staggered like a climbing wall. Without hesitating, he sprinted straight at it. One step, then two—then a jump. Then another mid-air. His boots kicked off a jutting stone and he flipped himself higher. He reached the top in under ten seconds. From this vantage point, he surveyed the entire field—and then closed his eyes. "New terrain, activated." A countdown ticked. 3... 2... 1... Then the whole world shifted. Targets appeared—everywhere. A hundred moving dots. Flying discs, fast-moving orbs, illusion soldiers charging his position. They flickered in and out like holograms. But every one of them could deliver a simulated hit. "Let’s go." Inigo jumped. And danced. Like something out of a sci-fi anime, his form became a blur. Double jumps, blink dashes, mid-air flips. He fired while spinning, while falling backward, while upside-down. Each movement fed into the next. Sometimes he dodged bullets. Sometimes he intercepted incoming attacks with his own shots. BANG. BANG. SHHK. DASH. TWIST. ROLL. He landed in a crouch, chest heaving, sweat on his brow despite the chill enchantment on his shirt. Then, slow applause echoed across the cliffs. Inigo looked up. Someone was watching.. The audience was Serina and Lyra. They peeked from behind a pillar with widened eyes. "How long have you been there?" he called, standing up and wiping his brow. "Long enough to know you’ve been holding back," Serina said, smiling. "You didn’t use any of that in the last dungeon run." "I didn’t have it back then," Inigo replied. Lyra stepped forward. "What in the gods’ name was that movement? I’ve seen shadowblades that can’t even blink that cleanly." Serina gave a small smile. "I always knew he had secrets." Inigo holstered his gun and folded his arms. "What can I say? I train hard." Serina walked closer, arms crossed. "That gun of yours—it doesn’t run on magic, does it?" "Nope. Pure kinetic force. With a few tricks." She furrowed her brows. "You’re not a mage. Not a knight. Not a rogue. So... what are you?" Inigo smirked. "I’m the guy who rewrites the playbook." They stood there in silence as the system reset the simulation zone behind him. "Do we get to spar with you?" Serina asked. "Later," Inigo said. "Today was just me showing off." "You succeeded," Serina said, almost grudgingly. Lyra just gave him a knowing smile. Inigo walked over to the edge of the field and sank onto a bench beneath the shade of an old elm tree. The cool breeze felt good against his skin, his chest still rising and falling from the intensity of his session. He grabbed a water flask from his side pouch and took a long drink, letting the silence settle. His eyes drifted toward Serina, who now stood in the center of the field, casually twirling her staff with one hand. Her eyes met his, and there was a gleam in them—not of amusement, but anticipation. "Rest up," she said with a grin. "You’ll need it." Inigo chuckled. "Looking forward to it."