My first awakening greeted me with a dull ache in my side and a strange, alien sense of lightness in my body. The recovery pod had done its job—while the pain hadn’t completely vanished, at least I no longer felt like I was underwater.
Still, something lingered. And it wasn’t the pain.
Tariq.
My lips pressed into a tight line as his pompous speech and smug grin at the moment of the assistant supervisor’s verdict resurfaced in my mind.
My memory, once again, reared its head in an unsettling way. I had dealt with people like him before. If I didn’t keep my word—if I didn’t make him shit blood—there would be trouble.
Of course, I didn’t have to take that promise literally…
I got dressed and headed back to the dorm to catch up on sleep. The guys were already out cold and barely reacted to my return. I lay down too, but sleep refused to come—my mind kept constructing revenge plans.
The same thoughts followed me into my next awakening and consumed most of my breakfast. And shortly after, all cadets were gathered in the corridor for the final alignment.
Block Supervisor Liang Shi gave a brief speech, mostly consisting of threats about penalty points, before handing us over to the other supervisors, dismissing those who already had their armour. He didn’t mention any names, so I had no idea who else from my block had been excused. Not that I particularly cared.
"Hey," I nudged the guys with my elbows. "Keep an eye on Tariq. Message me when he’s dismissed."
"Don’t do anything stupid," Marlon hissed.
"I’ve got a plan," I replied. "I used my brain, just like you suggested."
The crowd was herded into the Armour Hall, but I turned back to the dorm, grabbed my backpack, and took the metro. From there, I made my way to the Business Centre. My memory failed me a little when it came to the exact location of the School Store, but I found it through the navigator. Once inside, things became simpler. I quickly claimed a terminal and started putting together a virtual cart, just like Kate had shown me.
What was I looking for?
A stick. A solid, sturdy club to beat the crap out of Tariq. Until it came down to techniques, a person with a stick always had the advantage over someone without. Hopefully, techniques would eventually balance that unfairness, and I wouldn’t have to change the path of my development.
I decided to look for a suitable weapon among training props. I had hoped to find something like a bokken, but there weren’t many of those in the store. Instead, due to the school’s unique nature, there was an entire sea of plastic rapiers, faceted spikes, maces, and hammers. And knuckle dusters! There were so many knuckle dusters and reinforced gauntlets that I nearly fell in love with them on the spot.
Still, I ended up choosing a hammer.
I didn’t have any martial techniques from The Old Earth, knuckle dusters felt unfamiliar, but a hammer—I had held one before. I picked one with a handle about the length of my forearm.
I also grabbed a pair of training gauntlets for bare-knuckle fighters.
Both items were priced at the eternal 99.99.
At the checkout, I suddenly realised that the hammer was too light, while the gloves were heavier than expected. I really should have read the descriptions more carefully to see what kind of training they were meant for.
Rejecting both items, I returned to the terminal and found a pair of lightweight gauntlets with good shock absorption. Their only function was protection—exactly what I needed. As for the hammer, I had to swap it for a light mace with a massive, weighted head. Officially, it was a training tool for wrist conditioning. Practically, it was a solid, heavy object that fit neatly into my backpack.
I added both items to my cart, checked them at the counter, and confirmed the purchase. Then I rushed back to my dorm to take a few test swings with the mace. I wasn’t planning to switch to this weapon—it was just right for my plan.
Back in my room, I slipped on the gauntlets and flexed my fingers. They fit snugly without restricting movement—perfect. The mace settled comfortably in my palm. I spun it a few times, getting a feel for its weight and balance—both of which were concentrated entirely in the heavy head, while the handle weighed almost nothing.
Then I tested a few strikes—one to the jaw, one to the arm, another to the ribs.
I couldn’t aim for the temple. I didn’t want to accidentally kill Tariq. No matter how furious I was, he objectively hadn’t earned a death sentence yet.
I swung a few more times, testing different angles and force levels. The problem was, I didn’t have a dummy to feel how the mace would behave on impact, what the recoil would be like, or how much control I’d have after a strike. I was sure there were training dummies somewhere in the school—probably more than a few—but I didn’t have time to look.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
A message from Denis popped up.
Incoming message from: D. R. Rein
Subject: Tariq
Content: He’s out. Careful, his lackeys are with him. Maybe rethink your plan?
I thought for a moment and took another swing with the mace. His friends could be a problem…
Tossing the mace aside and pulling off the gauntlets, I sat on my bed and ran through everything again.
Adrenaline was already seeping into my blood, and I forced myself to calm down. It was too early. I’d burn out before the fight even started.
So, the most important thing… What was my goal? To make Tariq shit himself? To get revenge?
As satisfying as that would be—no. The real goal was to make him (and not just him) understand that messing with me wasn’t worth the effort.
In this case, the reputation of an unhinged lunatic might actually work to my advantage. And what could be more unhinged than attacking multiple enemies alone?
Decision made. I was going in.
Everything else depended on luck and my opponent’s readiness. My preparations were almost done.
Estimating the distance between the dorm and the Armoury Hall, as well as the time needed to get there, I ran one final drill.
One second—hand in the glove. Two—fingers slide into place. Three—strap tightens. Four, five, six—the other hand.
Too slow.
I tore off the gauntlets and started again.
First hand, second. Off. Again.
First—second—off. First—second—off.
And again…
I managed to cut my time down to four seconds—not bad at all. I didn’t push it further, just set the gloves and mace on the table and stepped into the corridor.
The wait dragged on. Tariq was taking his sweet time. I had already seen plenty of familiar faces pass by, but not his. I was starting to think he’d decided to skip the dorm and found something else to do, forcing me to postpone my plan.
Then, finally, I saw him.
Tariq.
Not alone.
He had two with him—the same skinny redhead who had gone for my kidneys and the dark-skinned guy with the square jaw. His lackeys flanked him on either side, while Tariq strutted proudly in the centre. His gaze met mine, and my fingers clenched involuntarily. But before my body could betray my intentions, I spun on my heel and walked back into the room.
Now was the time.
I took a deep breath, picturing myself diving off a cliff into the abyss. Adrenaline surged into my veins. I inhaled deeper, faster, exhaled sharply, and repeated the process, forcing my heartbeat to quicken.
I pulled on the gauntlets, grabbed the mace, and stood by the door. Two more breaths, then I opened it and stepped back into the room, staying out of sight from a distance.
Cadets passing by, of course, saw me. Some threw confused glances my way.
Shit. Tariq might pick up on their reactions.
I gripped the mace tightly, nerves creeping in. There was no time for adjustments now—I just braced my right leg for a more powerful launch.
Just in time.
The trio of thugs came into view. Their smug grins froze as I lunged forward.
Three long strides—my shoulder slammed into the redhead’s chest. He crashed into Tariq, and both of them went down in a heap.
The dark-skinned guy managed to dodge, but I took another step and drove the mace head straight into his solar plexus. His eyes bulged from their sockets, his square jaw dropping as he gasped, desperate for air.
I didn’t waste any more time on him. Instead, I turned to Tariq, who was scrambling to get up, and swung the mace.
Jaw—just as I aimed. His head twisted violently, and a spray of blood, spit, and teeth splattered across the redhead’s face. The once-menacing thug let out a terrified squeak—like a damn schoolgirl—then scrambled away on all fours without even trying to stand.
Screw him.
Adrenaline rushed through me. If not for my carefully thought-out plan, I might have lost control. But instead of letting instinct take over, I brought the mace down onto Tariq’s ribs.
A sharp crunch.
It sank deeper than it should have. Tariq convulsed.
For symmetry, I evened out his ribs on the other side.
A quick glance around revealed no one willing to stop me. In fact, some of the cadets just stood there, stunned.
I dropped the mace and grabbed Tariq’s arm. Pulled, twisted—popped it out of his shoulder joint. Then, with a sharp palm strike, I snapped his forearm at the elbow.
Only then did I stop.
The plan had been executed one hundred percent. And now… I had no idea what to do next.
Adrenaline still roared through my veins. My breathing was heavy, my heart thundered in my chest, and sweat dripped from my forehead like I had just finished an intense training session.
The corridor was dead silent, except for Tariq’s groans and whimpers. No one moved. Every gaze was fixed on me.
"What the hell, cadet?!" someone shouted behind me.
I grabbed the mace and turned around.
At last, one of Liang Shi’s lackeys had snapped out of it. Oh, I remembered this one. Dubois, I think.
"Keeping a promise," I barked, more aggressively than I intended.
"Are you drunk or high?" Dubois scoffed, gaining confidence as he met the eyes of a few colleagues in the crowd. Together, they started closing in. Among them, I recognised the bastard who had slapped me with a penalty point yesterday.
"And why do you care?" I asked. "Go ahead, give us penalty points, and let’s all move on."
"Us? You had a mace and gloves—it was clearly you who planned this and set up an ambush!"
"Yesterday, I was stark naked in the showers, and that didn’t stop that bastard," I pointed my mace at Dubois’s colleague, "from penalising me for fighting off this piece of shit and his buddies, who had ambushed me!"
The bastard in question froze as the weight of everyone’s stares landed on him.
"Sun Hao?" Dubois prompted.
"There was a whole damn crowd! Was I supposed to figure out who started what?" Sun tried to defend himself. The crowd didn’t seem impressed, and I was downright pissed off.
"I was naked, you moron. Even an idiot would have figured out I wasn’t the one who started that fight!"
"And this one, you started!" he snapped back.
"Oh, now you can tell who started what? Because after last night, I spent the night in the infirmary! And paid for it with my points! I got attacked, got penalised for it, then got docked points again for treatment! I’m not putting up with this bullshit on a regular basis.
I promised this asshole I’d beat the crap out of him, and I kept my promise. And I promise you all—any bastard who tries to bully me next is getting their bones broken!"
With my announcement made, I decided to leave the scene and headed for my room. The adrenaline storm was starting to settle.
"I didn’t dismiss you!" Dubois called out.
"I don’t give a shit," I shot back. "You’re not the one handing out penalty points, and you already have my name."