NOVEL NEXT Chapter 24: The Grind
The meeting went badly. Azrael left the cafeteria feeling like he had just walked through a minefield.
His team wasn't really a team. It was a group of dangerous people stuck together. He needed to think. He needed to do the only thing that made sense.
He went to the academy's training grounds.
He found an empty training area, a round space with sand and tall stone walls around it.
He took off his academy jacket, leaving just his black tunic, and grabbed a practice sword from the rack.
Standing in the middle, he took a deep breath. He opened his status window and looked straight at his Aether rank.
[Rank: Beginner]
He hadn't known what that meant before. He had just assumed it was another word for "weak." But after Professor Cindral's lecture, it was crystal clear.
It meant his control over his internal Aether was garbage. It was like having a full water skin but only being able to get a few drops out at a time.
'Good thing I didn't waste points on an affinity,' he thought feeling relieved. 'It wouldn't have helped anyway.'
An affinity was like a fancy nozzle for a hose. But if there's no water pressure, the nozzle doesn't matter. He needed to get stronger. He needed to move from Beginner to Apprentice.
Just one rank. That was the first real step to having any power in this world.
He remembered the two methods the professor had talked about. The first was to kill magical beasts and absorb their Aether.
That wasn't going to happen anytime soon. He couldn't even leave the academy grounds, let alone go hunting in dangerous places.
So, he checked the second method. The rich person's method.
'System Storefront.'
He navigated to the [Potions] tab then a sub-category called [Rare Materials]. And there it was, at the very top of the list.
[Aether Stone (Mid Grade)] - 20,000 P.
He looked at the price and let out a bitter laugh. 20,000 points. Twice what he had earned just for barely surviving. The system was making it clear: nothing would be easy.
Then he noticed another tab he hadn't seen before: [Currency Exchange]. Curious, he opened it. The interface was simple.
[SYSTEM CURRENCY EXCHANGE]
-> Exchange Points for World Currency
-> Exchange World Currency for Points
He looked at the conversion rate.
[Rate: 20 Points (P) = 1 Gold Coin]
His eyes widened. He did a quick calculation in his head. In this world, a single gold coin was a lot of money for a commoner. 500 gold coins could buy a small noble a nice house. And that meant…
'An Aether Stone costs 1000 gold,' he realized. 'The professor said 500, but that must have been for a lower quality one. Still… that means my 10,000 points are worth 500 gold coins.'
The thought was exciting. If he could ever get back to his own world, and if he could convert these points to real money… he could solve all his family's problems in an instant.
But the excitement died as quickly as it came.
'That's stupid,' he thought, shaking his head. 'These points are for survival. They are the only thing keeping me alive in this hell. Thinking about getting rich is a fantasy that will get me killed.'
He closed the system and gripped the practice sword. Enough distractions. He had a test tomorrow.
He began to practice. He moved through the forms of the Stalling Edge skill, his body flowing with a newfound purpose. It was a defensive style, meant to prolong, to endure.
He started slowly, paying attention to the angle of his sword, how he shifted his weight, and how Aether flowed from his core into the blade. A faint blue light covered the wooden sword as he practiced.
Sweat ran down his face, his black hair sticking to his forehead. His muscles ached, and his old injuries from the duel still throbbed. But he kept going.
He pictured Kaelen in front of him, his sword moving like gold. He practiced blocking, deflecting, and keeping his distance.
Clang. Hiss. Thud.
The clash of steel echoed only in his head, his body moving in tune with invisible opponents. Each swing, each block, each step carried the weight of battles he had lived and lost in memory.
Time blurred. His muscles screamed, but he kept going, chasing the rhythm until it was the only thing that existed.
Then a voice cut through the silence.
"Looks like you're finally done."
He froze mid-motion, chest rising and falling hard. Slowly, he turned.
Selvara Tharros stood at the edge of the training grounds, her arms folded, posture relaxed but her gaze sharp as a blade. Her pale ice-blue eyes fixed on him like they could see straight through.
He dragged his arm across his sweaty brow and managed a breathless laugh. "Wait… were you watching me this whole time?"
She let out a soft and mocking laugh.
Pss.
"Oh, hello, punk. Don't flatter yourself. I was just waiting for a spot to open up. All the other practice areas are full.These fools all think they can get stronger the day before the test."
She looked around at the other training areas, full of students rushing through last-minute practice.
"Now you can go," he said flatly, not in the mood to talk. He started walking toward the exit.
"Wait," she said.
He stopped but didn't turn around.
"I've heard a lot about you," she continued. "I don't care about your past, and I don't believe in rumors. But the way you train … and your fight with Kaelen. It wasn't like anything I expected."
He remained silent.
"I saw determination," she said quietly. "A drive to prove yourself. A drive to change things. It was… different."
"You're imagining things," he said, turning to her. "I just don't like losing."
She smiled, sharp and cold. "No, it's more than that. I can tell the difference. You fight like a cornered animal, like you have nothing to lose and everything to gain. That's a different kind of fire."
She took a step closer. "Tell me, Azrael Ashveil. What are you so desperate for?"
Her question hit him hard. It went straight to who he had become. He couldn't tell her the full truth, but he couldn't lie either she would see right through it.
He thought 'Nothing to lose, huh! I have everything on the line here'.
"I'm just trying to survive," he said, the words bitter in his mouth. It was the only truth he could give.
She looked at him quietly for a long moment, her cold eyes studying him like she could see everything inside him.
"Survival," she repeated softly. "Yes. I guess we all are, in our own way."
She strode past him, boots crunching against the stone as she made her way to the center of the training circle.
"Don't get eliminated too early tomorrow, punk," she tossed over her shoulder, her tone sharp but casual. "It'd be boring if I have to do all the work myself."
Before he could think of a reply, she was already gone, slipping out of sight as quickly as she'd appeared.
He stood there, sweat still dripping down his back, her words ringing in his ears. His body ached, but his thoughts churned louder.
This team of his strange, sharp, unpredictable was going to be even harder to survive than the competition itself.