The line of students moved toward the wooden box.
Nobody spoke. The heavy threat of being kicked out of class hung over the dirt arena. The upcoming jungle tournament was a death sentence for anyone without training.
A boy from a wealthy family reached the front of the line. He wore a customized silk shirt under his academy uniform. He looked at the massive pile of glowing blue stones. He held an elegant silver rapier in his right hand.
He picked up a crystal with a rapier carved into it.
Then, he paused. He looked at his empty left hand. He thought about dual-wielding. He thought about how impressive it would look to hold a dagger in his other hand. He glanced at Instructor Thorne. The giant man was standing perfectly still with his eyes closed.
The boy thought he was faster than a blind instructor. He quickly reached into the box and grabbed a second crystal with a dagger carving. He tried to hide it in his palm.
He did not even take a single step away from the box.
Thorne did not open his eyes. He did not yell a warning. He simply vanished.
The air cracked. Thorne appeared directly behind the wealthy boy. The giant instructor raised his heavy leather boot and delivered a massive, brutal kick directly to the boy's backside.
The impact sounded like a hammer hitting a thick slab of meat.
The boy was launched completely off his feet. He flew through the air, completely horizontal. He soared over the heads of the students waiting in line. He sailed straight through the open iron doors of the arena and crashed heavily into the stone wall of the outside corridor.
The two glowing memory crystals scattered across the dirt.
Instructor Thorne lowered his boot. He did not say a word. He turned around, walked back to the exact center of the arena, crossed his massive arms, and closed his eyes again.
The message was absolute.
The line stared at the empty space where the boy had just been standing. Then, they looked at the open doors. The boy was groaning in pain in the hallway, clutching his back. He was banned for a month. He was dead meat for the tournament.
The line started moving again.
Nobody else tried to cheat. Not a single student let their hand linger in the wooden box for more than a second.
Jin walked up to the box. He held his heavy broadsword in his left hand. He scanned the pile of blue stones. He found a crystal with a thick, single-edged blade carved into the surface. He picked it up. He did not look at any other stones. He walked away.
Luna stepped up right behind him. She found a crystal with a small chain and sickle carved into it. She grabbed it and followed Jin back to an empty patch of dirt near the steel wall.
"Crush it," Jin said.
He placed the glowing blue stone in the center of his right palm. He closed his fist tightly.
The crystal was fragile. It shattered like thin glass.
A sharp, sudden pain spiked directly behind Jin's eyes. It felt like a cold needle piercing his brain. He gritted his teeth and held his ground.
Information rushed into his mind. It was not a slow process of reading pages. It was an instant, forced injection of raw knowledge.
He saw images of a shadow figure holding the exact same heavy broadsword. He felt the phantom sensation of where to place his feet. He understood the exact angle to hold his wrists so they would not snap under the immense weight of the blade. The crystal bypassed his conscious learning and burned the basic stances directly into his nervous system.
Jin opened his eyes. The headache faded.
He looked down at his hands. He adjusted his grip on the leather handle. Before, he was just holding a heavy piece of metal. Now, his body instinctively knew it was a tool. He shifted his right foot back. He lowered his center of gravity. The stance felt completely natural.
Luna crushed her crystal next to him.
She gasped sharply and dropped to one knee. The sudden rush of information was much harder for her. The chain-sickle was an incredibly complex weapon. The memory crystal forced the knowledge of chain tension, rotational momentum, and dual-wielding coordination into her mind all at once.
She pressed her hands against her temples and took a few deep breaths.
"I see it," Luna whispered. She stood back up slowly. "It is a lot of moving parts."
"Start practicing," Jin ordered. "Knowing the moves in your head is useless if your muscles cannot keep up."
The dirt arena turned into a chaotic mess.
Hundreds of freshmen started swinging live steel. The memory crystals gave them the basic knowledge, but it did not give them instant mastery. Their bodies were still clumsy. Their muscles were not used to the specific motions.
It looked terrible.
Boys holding longswords tried to perform clean slices, but their wrists wavered. The slices turned into wild, uncontrolled chops. They swung the blades randomly, hacking at the empty air like farmers cutting tall grass.
The spear users were even worse. The memory crystals told them to thrust and use their distance. But when they got tired, their old habits took over. They started swinging the long wooden shafts like baseball bats, completely ruining the point of the weapon.
Instructor Thorne kept his eyes closed. He let them struggle.
Jin ignored the chaotic crowd. He focused entirely on his own space.
He raised the heavy broadsword above his right shoulder. He used the downloaded stance. He engaged his Foundation Level 7 core. He stepped forward and brought the massive blade down in a heavy, diagonal chop.
The steel tore through the air with a deep, violent whistling sound.
The momentum was incredible. The weight of the blade tried to pull Jin forward, but his dense leg muscles locked into the dirt. He stopped the heavy sword exactly three inches from the ground. He held the position, feeling the strain in his back. The memory crystal gave him the form. His daily torture under Thorne gave him the strength to hold it.
He reset his stance. He raised the blade. He chopped again.
A few feet away, Luna was facing a much harder challenge.
She stood with her feet planted wide. She held the wooden handle of the sickle in her right hand. She held the heavy iron weight in her left.
She took a breath. She threw the iron weight forward.
The chain rattled loudly. The heavy iron ball flew through the air, extending to its full ten-foot length. It reached the end of the chain and jerked hard.
The sudden pull yanked Luna completely off balance. She stumbled forward into the dirt.
She quickly pulled her left arm back to retrieve the weapon. She pulled too hard.
The iron ball whipped back toward her. It dragged the sharp metal sickle in her right hand along with it. The curved blade snapped backward, slicing through the air right next to her face.
The cold steel grazed her cheek. It cut a few strands of her dark hair. The cut hair drifted slowly down to the dirt.
Luna froze. Her eyes were wide with shock. A tiny drop of blood formed on her cheekbone. She was a hair's breadth away from blinding herself with her own weapon.
Jin paused his swinging. He looked at her. He saw the drop of blood.
He did not walk over to comfort her. He did not tell her to pick a safer weapon.
"Your grip is too tight on the retrieval," Jin stated flatly. He pointed at her hands with his free hand. "The crystal showed you the tension. Trust the chain. Do not fight it."
Luna wiped the tiny drop of blood off her cheek. Her hands were shaking. She looked at the sharp sickle. She looked at the heavy iron ball.
She was terrified of the weapon. But she was more terrified of the Core Formation beasts waiting in the jungle.
She nodded slowly. She stepped back into her stance. She gripped the wooden handle. She threw the heavy iron weight forward again. The chain rattled. She focused on her breathing. She prepared to pull it back, determined not to cut her own throat.
The practice continued. The air filled with the sound of slicing steel and heavy breathing.