Incoming message: K. L. Wong
Subject: Re: Technique
Content: Works.
I stared at the reply. Seriously? That was it?
Outgoing message: K. L. Wong
Subject: Re: Re: Technique
Content: That’s all? No details?
The response came instantly—a ringing in my ears and a notification flashing in my interface.
Incoming Call: K. L. Wong
Accept / Decline
Of course, I picked up.
"I’m busy!" Kate snapped. Her voice was strained from sheer exertion, and in the background, I could hear the crackling of electricity.
I’d heard something like this before.
"Training with the master?" I asked.
"How do you—?" she started, then immediately got distracted. "Ah! Ow! Okay, okay! Time out!" she yelled. The crackling stopped. After a moment to catch her breath, she growled, "Sullivan, I swear I’ll kill you, you bastard!"
"What did I do? I just took a wild guess," I lied. "So, when are we training together?"
"I’m your mentor, not your master! Stop wasting my time—I said I’m busy!"
"You could’ve just texted that. ‘Works’ made it sound like you didn’t care. I spent ages picking a technique."
Kate let out an exaggerated growl of frustration.
"Your first technique," she said, "is like a first date—odds of it lasting a lifetime are slim. You wanted something fast and easy to fend off thugs—Chain Punch WORKS for that! If you’ve got energy left after your block shift, take a rotation in the Garden. Now leave me alone!"
My entire disciplinary shift consisted of lying on my bed and scrolling through my tablet, so yeah—I had energy to spare.
I checked the time. 15:29—an hour and a half left. I wondered… if I fell asleep, would the alarm go off? I wouldn’t mind a nap.
Probably best not to test it. And definitely not worth asking in the chat. Liang Shi wouldn’t like that.
Instead, I decided to brew some tea—Gunpowder, not Pure Thoughts—and put on some music. If I didn’t rest properly, I’d hit exhaustion soon enough, and then my efficiency would be out the window.
By the time my shift in the Fist Garden started, I was feeling relatively fresh. This time, Diego 098 assigned me to the immortelles—delicate, papery flowers that kept their colour and shape even after drying. They bloomed in shades of pink, purple, and white, their leaves and stems shimmering with a silvery sheen. I lost two drones while harvesting—the Qi detonated like crazy.
Near the end of my shift, I got a message from Kate, inviting me to talk. She sent her location—it pointed to the second-period dorms.
Kate was inviting me over?
Oh. No, the location was for a coffee house.
Wait… they had coffee houses here? Not a tea house—a coffee house.
At the mere thought of a latte or an espresso with a croissant, my mouth watered. But then I remembered the taste of the local food and came crashing back to reality. Who knew what cultivator coffee tasted like?
I wondered—did second-years still eat in standard cafeterias like we did, or did they have different rules to follow?
When I arrived at the coffee house, the smell hit me first—not the synthetic sludge from vending machines, but the rich, full-bodied aroma of real coffee. The air was thick with notes of chocolate, vanilla, and roasted beans.
I reminded myself not to get my hopes up. Our cafeteria smelled good too—sometimes. The taste? That was another matter entirely.
The place had a sleek, cosy vibe. Wooden tables, plush chairs, a floor-to-ceiling panoramic window overlooking the academy grounds. Through it, I saw lit pathways, the domes and towers of various buildings, and sprawling gardens of every kind. Beyond that, against the dark sky, I could make out stars, a patch of night-covered Earth, and the tiny, cold orb of another grey moon.
The atmosphere here was completely different from first-year life—calm, steady-paced, accompanied by soft music. No rush, no chaos.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
Behind the counter stood a thinhorn barista—Marco 127, according to my interface. Instead of a jumpsuit, he wore a crisp white shirt and a black apron.
Marco gave me a once-over, his gaze pausing on the unit insignia on my collar. Then he smirked and shook his head.
"First-year. You lost?"
"No. I was invited," I replied.
"Seriously?" He raised an eyebrow. "Well, if that’s the case… But just so you know—this place is expensive."
I snorted. "Then I guess I’m the one paying."
Marco arched a brow, questioning. I waved it off.
"Just waiting for my mentor," I said. "Mind if I sit?"
Marco gave a nonchalant nod, as if he was already done caring, and went back to work.
I chose a seat by the window and messaged Kate to let her know I was here. She replied almost immediately—she’d be a few minutes late.
I glanced around. The place wasn’t crowded—just a handful of second-years sipping coffee at a leisurely pace. Someone was working on a laptop—
Wait. They had laptops here?!
Then again, Doc had a PC in his office, so why not? Laptops were a practical, universal form—
Hold on. Where was the keyboard?
Turns out, it was actually a tablet, and the person’s fingers were tapping directly on the table surface. A projected keyboard in the interface?
I shifted my gaze back to the panoramic window.
The sky over Verdis was nearly black, but on the horizon, a faint green line glowed—thin as Earth’s curve in old photos. The plants they’d cultivated on the moon had adapted to the conditions, but there still wasn’t enough atmosphere to breathe unaided. And the gravity… a little irritating, though I was used to it by now.
I wondered—how did they maintain Earth-level gravity inside buildings?
"Oi, genius."
Kate’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts.
She looked tired but satisfied. Her hair was a bit messy, still damp, and the tension from training lingered on her face. But in her eyes? A familiar mischievous glint.
"How was training?" I asked.
"Thanks to you? I got hit with a few lovely electric shocks. Spent an hour in a recovery capsule! And now… you’ll pay for your crimes!"
"You mean I’ll pay for your ridiculously overpriced coffee?"
"And cake!" she declared, waving Marco over. "One Verdiano Cappuccino—large, one spoon of sugar, vanilla, and a cheesecake on the side."
The barista turned to me.
"Latte, no sugar. Medium roast beans, your choice—something that won’t turn bitter."
"Milk?"
"Cow’s." Please tell me cows hadn’t been wiped out by some catastrophe. "And yeah, cheesecake sounds good."
Marco worked quickly, and soon our drinks arrived.
The aroma was incredible. The price? Even more so. A simple order had just cost me 500 units.
I squinted at Kate. "Next time, you’re buying."
"Do I look like a millionaire?" she shot back.
"You look like a freeloader."
"Damn right!" she said cheerfully, taking a sip of her coffee. She even closed her eyes for a moment, pure satisfaction written all over her face.
"Hmm… I suppose it’s not too late to change mentors," I said, trying to spook her.
"Not too late, sure. But convincing him to reassess the time you can cultivate as soon as the day after tomorrow—especially with that idiotic stance of yours? Not happening." She took a sip of her coffee. "By the way, do you know how much an M2 Lightning Essence costs?"
"I was wrong," I corrected myself immediately.
The ampoule she’d handed to Diego was worth around two thousand units—at least, that was the price of a similar Fist Essence. But Lightning Essence was bound to cost even more, since the school didn’t have the facilities to produce it.
"Another cup?" I offered.
"Hmm… A custard croissant!" Kate narrowed her eyes at me over the rim of her cup. "And an M2 essence of your choice. Not Fist."
"Not Fist?" I echoed.
"M2 boosts Root up to 150. Mine’s already 180."
"Got it."
"Good boy." She patted me on the head like a dog before her expression turned serious. "Right. Now about Chain Punch, so you stop pestering me."
I straightened, ready to listen.
"First and most important thing—it’s not a standalone technique."
"I noticed."
"I doubt you actually get what I mean," she scoffed. "If your opponent’s got good armour, you won’t do a damn thing to them. The hits are weak—any decent defence will absorb them completely. The orange-tier version helps a bit, but it’s harder to master, and I don’t see the point in wasting resources on it."
I snorted. "So far, we’re on the same page."
Kate waved her spoon at me threateningly—shut up and listen—before digging into her cheesecake. She chewed, swallowed, then continued.
"That said, you picked a technique that suits you."
She took another bite.
"Suits me for what?"
"For keeping order in your block."
"Could you not talk in riddles?"
"Could you stop interrupting?"
"I’m just filling the pauses."
"You should fill your mouth instead—before you drive me insane."
I took her advice.
The first thing I tasted was softness—the cheesecake practically melted on my tongue, its texture creamy and velvety. It was perfectly balanced—not too dense, not too airy. A light hint of vanilla blended with the delicate tang of the cheese, creating an almost harmonious flavour. It was sweet, but not overpowering—just enough to make me want another bite.
I caught myself thinking—I hadn’t expected anything this good after everything I’d eaten here. Well, no point ruining the moment with words.
Oh, right—I hadn’t even tried my coffee yet!
The first thing I noticed was the texture of the steamed milk—soft, thick, wrapping around my tongue with a warmth that was almost comforting. Then came the espresso—rich, slightly bitter, with hints of nuts and dark chocolate.
I wouldn’t call myself a coffee fan, but damn, I’d missed this taste.
"First," Kate continued, "don’t get into duels. Without proper gear, there’s no way you’re breaking through a full suit of armour."
"Wasn’t planning to."
Kate narrowed her eyes.
"Someone else might plan it for you."
She took another sip of coffee, sighed with satisfaction, and went on.
"Second—good gloves. That could fix the problem. If I were you, I’d start looking for something decent."
I let that sink in.
"How much do they cost?"
"Three to four thousand for standard ones. Anything really good? Ten times that." She set her cup down. "You could ask Alan. Battle gauntlets aren’t exactly his speciality, but they’re still within his skill range. As far as I know, he mostly works with armour, but still—ask. We need to install a switch for your formation anyway."
"What do you mean?"
"Later," Kate waved it off. "Let’s talk about the thugs first. Unarmoured, indoor fights—that’s where Chain Punch will actually be effective, even without gloves. In other words, you shouldn’t have any trouble with your main job. And I’d suggest not slacking off—that’s a free pile of points!"
I nodded. Made sense to me. Also made sense why no one seemed to like assistant supervisors.
"Of course," Kate went on, "it depends on your opponent. But in block-level fights, where no one’s wearing armour, your technique will work just fine."
I leaned back in my chair, satisfied.
"Once again—nothing new. Your thoughts match mine."
"Genius! Genius! … Where’s my croissant, genius?"
I signalled Marco and ordered her that damn croissant, while Kate finally explained what she meant about the switch for my formation.