Chapter 14:
She hadn't moved her feet.
Not once.
"You learn fast," she said quietly.
Zack stood there, panting.
The class was silent.
"Still weak. But not hopeless."
Then she turned to the rest.
"None of you landed a blow. None of you even made me blink. But he forced a correction."
Murmurs.
Eyes shifted.
And for the first time in months—they weren't mocking him.
They were curious.
Miss Aimee looked down at Zack.
"Rest. We'll begin weapon training drills after lunch."
He nodded.
But in his mind, the system pulsed with quiet hunger.
[Challenge Failed: No Reward Granted]
[Combat Data Recorded]
No reward.
No scratch.
But something had changed.
He wasn't the same boy who had stumbled into class hours ago.
And the others had seen it.
They just didn't understand it yet.
---
This surprised Zack Tennyson.
His breath hitched.
Ten mod points?
That was insane.
His first system quest — the one that left him trembling in the dark with sore limbs and a pounding heart — had only offered a single point. Just one. And now, suddenly… ten?
It wasn't a reward. It was a warning.
A flashing red flag soaked in blood.
Miss Aimee was too still. Too calm. Like a statue carved by a forgotten god, left standing at the center of a battlefield. The way she held her spear… it wasn't casual. It was complete. Not even suppressed, not even trying — and yet she emanated something primal. Something sharp.
A whisper from a realm far beyond what they could touch.
Zack didn't need anyone to explain what she was.
A Mythic-rank Hunter from the Third Domain.
She had stood beneath the eternal storms and survived. Had killed things none of them had names for. Walked through places no human had stepped before, and came back different.
The system wasn't asking him to tag her.
It was asking him to defeat her.
And it offered ten mod points for that suicide mission.
He gripped the dagger tighter, his pulse drumming through his fingertips.
There were students still chuckling in the background, still whispering jokes.
"Dead man walking."
"Trying to impress her again?"
"He's gonna break his nose before she even moves."
But Zack wasn't listening. His eyes were fixed on her. His thoughts were racing — not with fear, not with hope, but with calculation.
He'd already invested ten Platinum Spirit Points.
His body was stronger. His stats sharper. His brain — more alive than it had ever been.
Still… that was nothing in front of her.
The real danger wasn't her speed or skill. It was that she wasn't even trying.
And that was the gap.
Zack took a breath.
And moved.
---
The first step was a blur.
He surged forward, body crouched low, moving in a sweeping arc. The dagger lashed out, the blade aiming at her hip — not to hit, but to test. To measure. She pivoted subtly, just enough to let the strike brush air.
Her spear didn't move.
Her feet didn't shift.
Zack spun behind her, slashing low again — this time at the ankle. Maybe, just maybe, she'd have to retreat.
She didn't.
A metallic clang rang out as the butt of her spear met the blade. She hadn't even looked.
"Is that all?" she said quietly.
He gritted his teeth.
He kept attacking.
Feint. Twist. Lunge. Jump. Backstep. Pivot.
He moved like a storm, fast and erratic, like a wild spirit beast cornered and lashing out with desperation. But there was method in the madness. He was gauging her — not for weakness, but for the tiniest cracks. Her left block was faster than her right. She tended to deflect instead of parry. She didn't break posture — she let her opponents burn themselves out.
She was waiting.
So he gave her what she wanted.
Zack threw everything forward, launching into a chaotic flurry of strikes. The dagger danced from side to side, dipping and darting like a shadow. He screamed as he attacked, putting weight and momentum behind each motion.
And then—
He stumbled.
Just slightly.
Enough to look real.
Miss Aimee's eyes narrowed. She lifted her spear for the first time.
A shadow passed over Zack's face — not fear, but cold intent.
Because that's what he was waiting for.
He twisted his body mid-fall, using the momentum of the collapse to launch himself beneath the strike. His foot slammed into the mat. His dagger rose in a reverse grip. Not to strike. To throw.
She moved again — fast. Faster than anything he could follow.
The dagger clattered to the floor behind her. Miss Aimee stepped away, brushing the air aside with the shaft of her spear.
Zack dove after the weapon, feinting again — but it was over.
In a single motion, she twisted and knocked him clean off his feet.
This time, he didn't get up.
The pain was... strangely distant. He was gasping, blinking up at the ceiling, feeling nothing but the dull throb of his bruised ego and aching ribs.
[Quest Failed.]
[You have been defeated.]
Of course.
No reward. Not even pity.
She hadn't even moved. The entire battle, she had remained in the same spot. One leg slightly forward. Eyes slightly amused. Spear lazily resting in hand.
He had thrown everything at her.
He had used all ten Platinum Spirit Points, every drop of speed and power he had gained. He had read her rhythm, memorized her movements, played the long game.
And she had dismantled him without breaking a sweat.
There was no scratch on her. Not a mark. Not even a lock of hair out of place.
The crowd was quiet now. Awkward. Confused.
Miss Aimee looked down at him, expression unreadable.
Then — she spoke.
"You fight better when you're thinking like a ghost," she said. "Quiet. Unseen. Always watching. You learn. You adapt. That's rare."
She turned away, her voice drifting behind her.
"But the gap between us isn't just skill, Zack Tennyson. It's reality."
She didn't smile. Didn't mock him.
She just walked off the mat.
The spear never once dipped.
The class remained silent as Zack slowly sat up, blood in his mouth and fire in his chest. Something in his lungs ached — maybe bruised, maybe broken.
But none of that mattered.
He had failed.
And still... somewhere in his bones, he felt it.
He wasn't the same Zack anymore.
And next time... next time might be different.