Volume 01, Chapter 13

  Maurice’s Training

  As André and I approach the gates of my middle school, Professor Maurice's familiar figure comes into view. He’s waiting just outside, arms crossed casually, his sharp gaze scanning the surroundings.

  The moment he spots me, his expression shifts to a warm smile. But as his eyes drift to André, the smile disappears, replaced by an unmistakable look of disdain.

  "Why, if it isn’t the Trash. I didn’t know someone like you could have a child," Maurice quips, his voice laced with sarcasm.

  André’s eyes narrow, his stance subtly shifting. "Well, if it isn’t the Twat of the Réel family. I didn’t know the greatest showman in Verdant Haven decided to become a professor."

  The air between them grows tense, a palpable rivalry radiating from their pointed words.

  I glance between them, feeling the need to cut through the thick atmosphere before it escalates further. "Good morning, Professor. Can we start training?"

  Maurice’s attention shifts to me, and his demeanor softens almost instantly. It’s impressive how quickly he can change moods.

  "Sure!" he says with a bright smile, waving me forward. "Follow me."

  “Tch!”

  The disgruntled noise from André behind me is impossible to miss. He’s struggling to keep his composure.

  "Let’s go, Dominic," André mutters, his reluctance evident in his tone.

  I walk behind Maurice, with André close behind me. As we pass through the gates, I start thinking about the way these two talk to each other. Their sharp jokes and jabs sound like they come from a place of history. It feels like they used to be close, but something—whatever André mentioned earlier—broke that bond.

  I glance back briefly at André, his jaw tight as he silently follows.

  For now, I focus on the training ahead. With my father and Professor Maurice involved, it’s going to be a day full of physical, mental, and maybe even emotional challenges. I’ll need to stay sharp if I’m going to get through the training—and deal with the complicated relationship between these two powerful men.

  I think this will be interesting. I will brace myself for whatever comes next.

  We keep walking until we reach a wide grass field near the middle school. It's open and perfect for what looks like a tough training session. A light breeze moves through the grass, but it doesn’t help the nervous feeling building in my chest.

  André walks to the edge of the field and picks a strong log to sit on. He crosses his arms and watches quietly, his face hard to read. His earlier warning—that Maurice wouldn’t hold back—sticks in my mind like a shadow.

  The sudden notification from the System shocked me.

  S-Survive?

  My heart skips a beat. That one word feels heavier than I am ready for. The reward is tempting, but it reveals how serious this truly is. André’s warnings no longer feel like exaggerations—they feel like a lifeline I should have held on to.

  “Let us begin, shall we?” Maurice says, his voice calm and assured, yet carrying an underlying edge that sends a chill down my spine.

  I swallow hard, steeling myself for what is to come. Whatever Maurice has planned, I cannot afford to show hesitation. Not in front of André. Not in front of Maurice. And certainly not in the face of the System’s ominous challenge.

  “Yes, Professor,” I reply, forcing confidence into my voice even as adrenaline courses through my veins.

  André, still seated on the log, lets out a low hum of disapproval but says nothing. His watchful gaze remains fixed on us—a silent reminder of what is at stake.

  Maurice smiles faintly, his sharp eyes glinting with something I cannot quite place—anticipation, perhaps? Or is it amusement?

  “Good,” he says, rolling up his sleeves. “Let us see what you are made of, Dominic.”

  ════ ?★?════

  With a nod, Dominic steadies himself, drawing both of Galahad’s Judgment pistols. The sleek weapons, charged with Aether, glow faintly in his hands—a testament to their latent power.

  Maurice smirks, his confident demeanor practically daring Dominic to make the first move.

  “Whenever you are ready,” he says, his voice laced with condescension.

  Dominic narrows his eyes, briefly wondering if Maurice underestimates him because he is Manaless. He shakes off the thought and focuses, raising both guns.

  –Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

  A burst of red, Aether-charged bullets shoot out from Galahad’s Judgment, each one fired with deadly accuracy. His training—and the stat boosts from the System—had greatly improved how well he handled the weapons. Before, he had trouble aiming during rapid fire because of the recoil, but now he shoots with confidence and doesn’t miss.

  –Flick!

  Maurice barely moves. With a casual flick of his fingers, the bullets freeze mid-air, suspended by an invisible force.

  –Flick!

  Another gesture, and the bullets reverse their trajectory, hurtling back toward Dominic at blistering speed.

  !

  Dominic’s eyes widen in shock. He barely has time to react, relying solely on razor-sharp instincts. Diving to the side, he narrowly avoids the incoming fire, though the bullets whistle past with terrifying proximity.

  Maurice’s smirk deepens, and his tone shifts, tinged with genuine intrigue. “Impressive reaction speed, Dominic. But in a real battle, enemies will not give you time to breathe.” He says.

  –Flick!

  The ground rumbles beneath Dominic’s feet, the tremors intensifying as cracks spider outward in every direction.

  –Rumble!

  The earth itself seems to betray him, breaking apart and levitating under Maurice’s control. Massive chunks of the field rise into the air, floating ominously as the battlefield transforms into a surreal and unstable terrain.

  ‘What is his Magic Attribute?!’ Dominic thinks, struggling to maintain his footing as the fractured ground shifts beneath him.

  Forced to his knees by the violent upheaval, he grits his teeth and steadies himself, refusing to falter.

  Before Dominic can regain his footing, Maurice flies effortlessly behind him, manipulating the fragmented terrain with unnerving ease.

  —Flick!

  A bolt of blue energy surges toward Dominic. Acting purely on instinct, he throws himself to the side.

  —Boom!

  The energy bolt collided with one of the floating platforms, detonating in a brilliant explosion. The shockwave blasts debris in every direction. Fragments of stone strike Dominic as he is hurled backward.

  “Agh!”

  Dominic hits the ground hard, rolling across another floating chunk of earth. Pain flares through his body, but he quickly scrambles to his feet, his instincts and resilience kicking in.

  Maurice’s voice rings out—calm, yet sharp. “Good. You survived. But remember, survival isn’t just about dodging—it’s about fighting back.”

  Gritting his teeth, Dominic aims his guns and fires again.

  —Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

  A rapid volley of red bullets streaks toward Maurice, but the professor barely flinches.

  —Flick!

  A shimmering blue forcefield appears in front of Maurice, absorbing the bullets on impact and rendering them harmless.

  “Dominic,” Maurice taunts, his voice laced with mockery. “If you want to hit me, you’ll need to be far more creative than this.”

  Dominic clenches his jaw, frustration mounting. His status as Manaless has always limited his options, but he cannot afford to give up.

  —Flick!

  Suddenly, the platform beneath Dominic begins to glow a menacing orange. Heat surges around him, and an ominous crackling sound warns him of what is coming. Without hesitation, Dominic leaps toward another floating piece of earth.

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  “Woah!”

  No sooner has he left the platform than it melts into a pool of magma, the heat radiating upward in scorching waves.

  “OOF!”

  Dominic lands hard on another platform, dirt and sweat mixing as he pulls himself to his feet. His breathing is labored, his body battered, but his resolve remains unbroken.

  He scans the battlefield, now fragmented and hostile, and realizes the gravity of Maurice’s earlier words.

  ‘If it weren’t for my instincts, I’d already be dead,’ Dominic thinks grimly.

  With Maurice flying above and controlling the area easily, both close and ranged attacks seem useless. Dominic needs a new plan—and fast.

  ‘Think, Dominic. Outwit him. This isn’t just about firepower—it’s about survival.’ Dominic thinks.

  Forcing his exhaustion aside, Dominic grips his guns tighter, readying himself for the next move. Maurice’s smirk has not faded, but Dominic is not about to back down.

  ‘This isn’t just training. This is a fight to prove I can endure,’ Dominic thinks.

  -Flick!

  Maurice flicks his fingers again and Dominic’s heart pounds in his chest as twenty shimmering light arrows materialize above him, descending like a deadly rain.

  "Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me…" Dominic mutters, eyes wide with disbelief.

  The floating chunks of terrain offer little space to maneuver, forcing Dominic to dodge desperately. He evades most of the arrows with frantic movements, but three find their mark—two piercing his right shoulder and one lodging painfully in his left thigh.

  "Agh!"

  The searing pain drops him to his knees, his grip faltering as one of his guns slips from his hand, clattering onto the fragmented ground.

  From his elevated position, Maurice watches closely. A flicker of concern crosses his face. ‘Have I pushed him too far?’ he wonders, his stern facade faltering momentarily.

  But the thought is quickly dismissed. Maurice knows all too well the relentless nature of real combat. To survive in this world, Dominic must face this level of intensity.

  "Get up, Dominic," Maurice calls out, calm but firm. "The battle doesn’t stop just because you’re in pain."

  Dominic grits his teeth, his body shaking as he tries to stand. Pain from his wounds spreads through him, but he refuses to give up.

  This time, Maurice opts for vocal incantations, giving Dominic a rare opportunity to anticipate his next attack.

  "Knife Crystal Heart Attack."

  Shimmering, heart-shaped beams resembling crystalline knives manifest in the air and hurtle toward Dominic with deadly precision.

  Dominic rolls to the side, ignoring the stabbing pain in his thigh as he snatches up his fallen gun. Rising slowly, he adopts a defensive posture—a blend of readiness and determination.

  Adrenaline surges through his veins, dulling the agony of his injuries as he readies himself for whatever comes next.

  "Dolphin Slap Wave."

  From Maurice’s outstretched hand, a swarm of ethereal dolphins erupts, leaping toward Dominic in rapid succession.

  [Centurion’s Guard]

  Dominic reacts instinctively, activating the defensive Gun Arts technique he had absorbed from the manual.

  With practiced precision, Dominic uses his pistols as both shield and blade, parrying the incoming dolphins with fluid, precise movements. The Aether-charged dolphins dissipate upon contact with his guns, but the relentless assault forces him to stay sharp, weaving between attacks.

  Amid the onslaught, Dominic finds openings. His eyes narrow as he takes aim and fires.

  -Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

  The Centurion’s Guard technique, a hallmark of the Gun Arts, blends defense and offense seamlessly. Dominic’s stance minimizes his exposure, allowing him to deflect attacks while simultaneously launching counterstrikes. His movements, though still raw, are efficient and measured, a testament to his rapid adaptation under pressure.

  Maurice raises a hand, summoning a glowing blue energy forcefield to deflect the bullets. The shots vanish upon impact, leaving Maurice unharmed, but his expression shifts.

  For the first time, there’s genuine acknowledgment in Maurice’s eyes.

  "Impressive," Maurice remarks, his voice tinged with approval. "You’ve adapted well, Dominic. But survival isn’t just about skill—it’s about ingenuity."

  Dominic’s chest heaves as he steadies himself, his injuries screaming for attention. Despite the pain, his grip on the guns tightens, his resolve unshaken.

  "Let’s see how far you can push yourself," Maurice challenges, his forcefield dissipating as he prepares his next move.

  Dominic, battered but determined, squares his shoulders. He knows Maurice isn’t holding back. And if he’s going to survive, neither can he.

  ════ ?★? ════

  André watches the scene unfold before him with wide eyes, astonishment etched across his face.

  "Where did he learn that?" Andre mutters.

  André has never formally trained Dominic before this day. The maneuvers Dominic executes, especially the adept use of the 'Centurion's Guard' technique, are something not a beginner would know, let alone a Manaless individual like Dominic.

  "I'm going to ask him later."

  Throughout Dominic's life, André and Celine have consistently provided care and support. While André's profession as a Stargate Raider often keeps him away from home, he has always watched Dominic's growth and development.

  However, Dominic's sudden display of martial prowess is unexpected. Until his fifteenth year, Dominic has shown no particular interest in martial arts or combat training, preferring to immerse himself in his studies to become a Magitist.

  The revelation of Dominic's newfound skills leaves André in wonder and speculation.

  How has Dominic acquired such knowledge and proficiency? Is there a hidden chapter in Dominic's life that André is unaware of?

  These questions swirl as he watches Dominic stand his ground against Maurice's relentless assaults.

  The sight of Dominic poised and ready to face whatever comes next fills André with a mix of pride and curiosity. Clearly, Dominic is much more than meets the eye, and André is determined to uncover the secrets behind his sudden transformation.

  ════ ?★? ════

  "Hah…Hah…"

  Dominic struggles to believe it. He has utilized one of the techniques from the Gun Arts. But as the adrenaline fades, the pain, previously held at bay, surges back with a vengeance.

  "Agh!"

  The agony is overwhelming as he crumbles to his knees, clutching his injured shoulder. Despite the pain, he forces himself back onto shaky legs. Glancing up, he sees Maurice hovering above him, an expression of indifference on his face as if mocking him, challenging him to keep going.

  -Flick!

  -Crumble!

  With another flick of Maurice's fingers, the earth beneath Dominic shifts, further unsettling him. He finds himself kneeling again, unprepared for the sudden descent. As the pieces of floating earth return to their original positions, the landscape returns to its natural state.

  The once-boiling magma cools and solidifies, leaving no trace of the chaos that had just transpired. Surveying the surroundings, everything appears as if nothing has happened. It is as though Maurice has reset the entire field with a mere gesture.

  “Dominic, what is my Magic Attribute, after everything you have seen?”

  Maurice’s voice echoes through the scorched training ground—calm, composed, and expectant.

  “Hah… hah…” Dominic pants, sweat dripping from his chin as he struggles to steady his breath.

  'I know this is part of Maurice’s test,' Dominic thinks, narrowing his eyes. 'It is not just about combat—this is about perception. Awareness. Understanding an enemy’s magic attribute could mean the difference between survival and death out there.'

  His mind races, retracing every move Maurice has used during their duel. Earth transmutation into lava. The sudden summoning of dolphins mid-air. Blinding arrows made of light. Even those absurd, heart-shaped daggers. None of it follows a straightforward elemental pattern. Each spell twists the rules of the battlefield—deliberate, precise, and unnervingly efficient.

  Then it clicks.

  “It is Spatial,” Dominic says, lifting his gaze to meet Maurice’s eyes.

  Maurice’s brow arches slightly—intrigued, but not surprised.

  “Your spells manipulate the battlefield in ways that go beyond simple elemental control,” Dominic continues. “Lava, dolphins, weapons from nowhere… You are not just summoning things. You are altering the space where they exist. You are controlling the space itself.”

  Spatial Magic—rare, dangerous, and immensely versatile. It allows the user to bend the very fabric of space: fold distances in half, summon objects from another location, create pocket dimensions for storage, or redirect attacks at impossible angles. In theory, a magician who masters Spatial Magic can turn the battlefield into a maze—a prison designed by their will.

  But… there is a cost, Dominic reminds himself. Its greatest weakness: focus. Spatial manipulation demands mental precision of the highest order. A single lapse—a flicker of doubt—can cause a spell to collapse… or worse, misfire catastrophically.

  However, that vulnerability seems almost irrelevant. Maurice’s control is flawless. Impeccable. Trying to break his focus would be like trying to punch through reinforced steel using nothing but a toothpick.

  Maurice smiles—faint, but genuine. A rare gleam of satisfaction flashes in his eyes.

  “Correct,” he says simply, descending to the cracked earth with a grace that barely disturbs the dust. His feet touch the ground like a whisper. But his presence—his aura—still presses heavy in the air: formless, yet immense.

  In that brief silence, something shifts inside Dominic. Something clicks. Something awakens.

  His body reacts before his mind catches up.

  Without thinking, his arm lifts.

  His finger squeezes the trigger.

  —Bang!

  The loud crack of the gunshot cuts through the air, but the result is clear. Maurice barely reacts; with a simple wave of his hand, the bullet stops mid-air. It loses all its speed and falls to the ground with a soft thud.

  “Darn it.”

  Dominic grits his teeth, frustration rising. The gap between them feels too wide—a distance that no amount of effort or training seems able to close. But along with that frustration is a deep sense of admiration.

  Maurice’s control over magic is amazing. Every time they face off, Dominic is reminded of how much more he needs to learn—and how far he’s already come with Maurice as his tough teacher.

  “That’s enough for today,” Maurice says, his voice firm and final.

  As the System notification flashes in front of Dominic's eyes, a wave of relief hits him. He has survived Maurice's tough training session.

  "Thank god," Dominic mutters, feeling proud of himself.

  But he decides to wait before accepting the Magic Artifact. The last thing he wants is for Maurice and André to see it appear out of nowhere and start asking questions he can't answer.

  "Ugh..."

  Just as he's thinking about what to do next, exhaustion catches up to him. His legs give out, and he falls to the ground, too tired to stand. The intense training and leftover adrenaline have finally worn him out.

  ════ ?★?════

  Dominic collapses to the ground with a heavy thud.

  “Dominic!” André shouts, rushing to his son’s side. He drops to his knees and gently shakes him. “Hey—Dominic!”

  He whips his head toward Maurice, eyes blazing with fury. “Maurice, what the hell were you thinking?! Isn’t this your first training session with him?!”

  Maurice remains calm, his arms at his sides. “It is training,” he replies flatly. “And you, of all people, should know—Stargate Raiding is not a game.”

  “That doesn’t mean you push him this hard on day one!” André snaps, lifting Dominic and hauling him onto his back in a piggyback. “Why do you even want to train him in the first place?”

  Maurice gives a crooked smirk. “Simple. I want him to be my pupil.”

  “…Pupil?” André echoes, blinking. His expression shifts as realization creeps in. “Wait—don’t tell me. You tried to apply to Verdant Arcanum, didn’t you? But they rejected you because…”

  Maurice shrugs. “Because I didn’t have a pupil, yes. For [A+] Rank and above, they require a demonstration of mentorship before hiring. I need someone to bring with me.”

  André scowls. “And out of everyone, him? Why not Arthur Lyon, or Lumi Everheart? They’re both exceptional, and—”

  “What? Because Dominic’s Manaless?” Maurice cuts in, his voice sharp but laced with amusement.

  André pauses… then mutters, “…Yes. I know your pupil doesn’t have to be a Magician or a Manaficial, but let’s be real—he’s at a disadvantage.”

  Maurice chuckles softly. “That’s what I thought—until today.”

  André blinks. “What?”

  “Dominic surprised me,” Maurice says, glancing back toward the field. “He lacks polish, sure—but he’s got something you can’t teach. His instincts during today’s training? Raw, reactive, sharp. And yesterday…”

  He pauses, eyes drifting upward, as if seeing the memory unfold again.

  “I watched him confront his bully. I was about to intervene, but the kid handled it himself. Calm, decisive. That defiant look in his eyes? It reminded me of someone I used to know.” Maurice grins. “Reminded me of you.”

  André’s brows rise, his expression unreadable.

  “That caught my interest. So, I dug a little. It did not take long to find out he’s your son—which, by the way, surprised the hell out of me.”

  André exhales through his nose. “Yeah, I know we don’t look alike. He takes after Celine.”

  “I figured as much,” Maurice nods. Then he adds, teasingly, “Still can’t believe you had a kid. Considering what a damn mess you were.”

  André groans. “Yeah, yeah, I was a disaster. You don’t need to keep rubbing it in.”

  Maurice’s smirk widens. “Hey, just saying—it’s good to see you’ve changed.”

  He turns his eyes to Dominic, who stirs faintly on André’s back.

  “But I didn’t come here to pick at old wounds. I have a proposal.”

  André raises an eyebrow. “I’m listening.”

  “Dominic told me he wants to be a Stargate Raider. So, here’s my idea—we train him together. You handle the physical and combat disciplines. I’ll take care of casting theory, tactics, and how to outsmart the enemy.”

  It… makes sense.

  Maurice has always been the tactician, the thinker. André is more instinct, muscle, and grit. Separately, they have gaps. But together, they could shape someone formidable.

  André exhales slowly through his nose.

  “…Sure,” he says at last. “Let’s do it.”

  Maurice grins. “Then it’s a deal.”