They were horrendously slow.

  Lumbering toward me like Frankenstein’s monster, no finesse, no strategy—just a moving boulder of strength. Their hands kept reaching, grasping, trying to get a hold of me.

  That wasn’t happening.

  I used Quickstep repeatedly, darting around them with sharp, snapping strikes from my tail—always just out of reach. Their movements were too predictable. Every time they reached out, I struck where their hands weren’t.

  I focused on their right calf, targeting the same spot over and over. If I could take out their mobility, this fight would be over before it even got interesting.

  Not that it ever got interesting. Honestly, it was another boring fight.

  The dwarf devil flared with frustration—literally. Their body heated up, steam rising off their glowing red skin as my attacks landed again and again. But they still didn’t showcase a single skill. No counters. No technique. Just slow, brute-force attempts to grab and crush me.

  Then, finally, their calf gave out. They staggered, tried to step forward—and collapsed.

  The moderator called the match, and the grey cage withdrew, snapping out of existence and leaving us back in the dining hall.

  A soft chime rang in my head—an alert from my ring.

  +100 points. My bet, plus theirs.

  I shook my head and turned to get food—again.

  Then another dwarf devil stepped into my path, arm raised, signaling for a moderator. I sighed and looked around.

  The crowd that had gathered to watch my fight? Mostly dwarf devils. Figures.

  I checked my ring. Only enough time for one more match before I had to make it to my next class. If I fought this one, then the next, and the next after that, I'd have to go through their entire clan before I could leave.

  I didn't have time for that. I raised my arms to get their attention.

  "I don’t have time to fight all of you. Whoever is the strongest, step forward and let’s get this over with."

  Two stepped out from the crowd. They moved without hesitation, each raising their arm in the same signal to summon a moderator. No one else moved.

  So these were the best among them. There were two, though.

  If they were anything like the last one, they’d be a breeze. But two-on-one was a different game. I raised my arm as well.

  The same moderator who had been watching the ongoings stepped forward. "Players A and B have challenged Player C to a handicap battle." He glanced at me, then at them. "Declare your points."

  The shorter of the two spoke in a gruff voice. "Two hundred." The other nodded in agreement. The moderator turned back to me.

  "They have issued a handicap battle, two versus one. Attack skills allowed, but no weapons. No maiming or killing allowed. Their levels will be set to 25E, and yours will remain 27E. Do you agree?"

  Interesting.

  I would have loved to draw Woundreaver, but an attack-skill battle would be far more interesting than the last match. I still didn’t have an attack skill. And it was two versus one. A huge disadvantage.

  But I wouldn’t always be on equal footing. I smiled. "Yes."

  The cage sprang up around us, but this time, it wasn’t gray.

  It was red. Which felt right.

  The red cage locked into place, its dull glow casting eerie shadows against the floor.

  I barely had time to adjust before the shorter dwarf devil grabbed their partner and threw them.

  Not just a simple toss—they launched them. The airborne one didn’t fall. They moved.

  Not the jerky, tumbling arc of someone hurled through the air. They adjusted mid-flight, twisting with precision, their trajectory shifting unnaturally as if guided by unseen strings.

  I tensed, instincts flaring. This wasn’t just a fast opponent—this was something else entirely. Then they shot toward me.

  I Quickstepped, but my body still reacted late, expecting them to land before attacking. They didn’t. Their feet never touched the ground. Instead, they slid sideways—still airborne, still moving—unnatural.

  Controlled.

  My eyes flicked toward the one standing. I hadn’t even processed the attack before I had to dodge again.

  A fist aimed for my ribs, from a distance far too great to hit. And yet, it did. An invisible force lashed out from their strike, the air itself twisting like a whip, grazing my skin with a sharp, unnatural chill.

  Draining.

  I felt it sink in, something being pulled from me, a creeping fatigue spreading into my muscles. I gritted my teeth. They weren’t just flying. They were being piloted.

  This wasn’t a solo fighter—it was a weapon wielded by their partner. And I was fighting both of them at once. I Quickstepped again, narrowly avoiding another attack, this time from behind.

  The airborne one looped back, spinning mid-air in a maneuver that should have been physically impossible. They weren’t controlling their own momentum—their partner was adjusting them like a marionette.

  Fine. I could play their game. The moment that thought settled, I moved. Quickstep.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  The airborne one shot toward me like a flaming meteor, controlled by the partner below. They didn’t just fly—they bent through the air, twisting with impossible angles, correcting their trajectory in real time.

  Their foot lashed out, a high-speed kick aimed for my head. I ducked, barely evading—but the attack still hit.Not physically.A pulse of invisible force slammed into my head, and a searing weight burrowed into my muscles, stealing my strength.

  I staggered back, breathing heavier than I should have. Damn. I needed to end this fast.

  The cage’s red glow pulsed around us, humming with energy, the walls acting as both a boundary and a potential weapon.

  I Quickstepped again, twisting away as the flying one looped around for another attack. They weren’t just fast—they were being launched, their partner treating them like a human projectile with complete control.

  Fine. Let’s see how well they handle real chaos. I turned, throwing myself toward the cage wall at full speed.

  Quickstep.

  I rebounded off the glowing barrier, twisting midair, forcing them to follow me with their unnatural control.

  Quickstep.

  Again.

  I darted to another wall, ricocheting between them like a bouncing bullet, warping my movement pattern every second.

  Their controlled flight? Predictable. My movement? Not anymore.

  I watched them overshoot, their partner on the ground struggling to recalibrate their trajectory. I lunged toward them—then faked another Quickstep. The controller flinched, jerking their partner backward, making them overcompensate in the air.

  Now. I spun on my heel, launching straight at the one on the ground. Their eyes registered my attack but they smiled in confidence. Like I had fallen into a trap of theirs.

  A sudden force lashed out from the ground, forming a dense layer of heat beneath me, slowing my step just enough. Their fingers flexed, their airborne partner pivoting sharply—a counterattack aimed to crush me between them.

  Too bad it was already over. Torment power 100% enhanced Front Kick.

  The shockwave of impact shattered the heat barrier, fragments of protective energy bursting outward like glass. Time seemed to slow and I could see their eyes spreading open in shock.

  Then my foot slammed into them, sending them flying into the cage wall. They crashed hard, rebounding off the energy barrier, skidding across the ground in a dazed heap.

  And just like that—the control broke. The airborne one plummeted. Without their partner’s influence, their movements snapped back to natural physics—and they weren’t prepared for it. They twisted midair, but the angle was wrong. Instead of landing cleanly, they slammed into the cage wall, rebounded awkwardly, and hit the ground with a heavy thud.

  I exhaled, rolling my shoulders, shaking off the lingering drain from their attacks. The crowd outside the cage had gone silent.

  I could feel all eyes on me. The moderator stepped forward, glancing between the two sprawled dwarf devils.

  "Match concluded. Player C is victorious."

  The red cage faded, the arena dissolving back into the dining hall. Another soft chime in my head. +600 points. I smirked, cracking my neck. That was more like it. Checking my watch, I realized I had just enough time to get to my next class. This time, no one stepped forward to challenge me.

  Still chewing on the last of my sandwich, I opened a portal—this time leading to my next lesson: How to Hunt and Hide Against Those Using Skills.

  Stepping through, the world shifted. Desert. Heat radiated from golden dunes, waves of dry air distorting the horizon. And standing at the center of it all, an eruption of color and motion, was Calix Kalix. His presence was impossible to ignore.

  Dressed in clashing, eye-searing fabrics that shimmered with every exaggerated movement, Calix radiated energy, his very existence at odds with the barren landscape around him.

  "Weeeeellcoooome, Sylaaaaas!" he intoned, stretching my name into a song. His voice danced through the air, rich and theatrical, each syllable pulled like he was savoring it. "Yooouuuu aaaare just in tiiiiime for the neeeext lesssssson!"

  Even when I had first met him, his exuberance was impossible to resist. We’d found him in town, jumping rope—not with a normal rope, but with a fire eel, the flaming creature snapping at his feet while children laughed around him.

  He had energy that pulled people in, a natural gravity that made it impossible to look away.

  And looking at the class size today, I wasn’t the only one drawn in.

  There were at least forty students, far more than I expected. But somehow, it felt right. A teacher like this was meant to have an audience.

  Calix Kalix twirled on his heel, arms spreading wide as he practically glided across the sand. His every movement was flowing yet precise, like a performance rather than a lesson.

  "The desert is a cruuuuel mistress, my dear little fledglings," he sang, sweeping his arms toward the endless dunes. "It reveeeals all under the blazing sun, and yet… it hides its secrets in the shifting sands. A paradox! A mystery! And today, you must learn to be both."

  His bright clothing shimmered with heat distortion, making it almost painful to focus on him for too long.

  I wiped sweat from my brow, already regretting my choice of food. This heat was brutal. Calix snapped his fingers, and the desert rippled, the dunes shifting in an unnatural, slow-motion wave.

  "As you may have guessssed, this is no ordiiiiinary desert. Nooo, no, no. This is a living battlefield. A stage upon which the unseen thrives. Some of you, my dear hunters, must track the untraceable. Some of you must vanish into the sands."

  I shifted my stance. This was going to be interesting. "Youuuuu," he drawled, suddenly pointing a long, golden-painted finger at me. "Youuu have hunted befooore, yesss?"

  I nodded. "Yeah. Tracking and survival."

  "Ahhhh, splendid! Splendid!" He clapped his hands together, practically vibrating with excitement. "Buuuuut tell me, dear Sylaaas, have you ever tracked someone who does not wish to be found? Someone who leaves behind nothing at all?"

  I exhaled through my nose. "Not like this."

  "Not like this," he repeated, nodding sagely, as if I had just uttered some grand revelation. "Not like this indeed."

  I took another glance around the expansive dunes. The sand looked real, felt real beneath my boots, but something about this place felt… off.

  Before I could analyze it further, Calix threw up his arms.

  "The challenge is simple!" His voice boomed, stretching across the desert like an opera conductor announcing the final act. "Haaaaaalf of you will be hunters! Haaaaaalf of you will be ghosts! And at the end of one hour… we shall see who reigns suprrrreme."

  The air shifted. The dunes trembled, not physically, but as though the rules of reality itself were shifting underfoot.

  Then, with a snap of his fingers, the game began.

  Light exploded around us, consuming the entire class in a blinding glow before we shot off in all directions like scattered shooting stars. The desert blurred beneath me as I was flung through the air, weightless yet completely aware of the rapid shift.

  Then—impact.

  I hit the ground in a controlled roll, sand kicking up in waves around me. By the time I steadied myself, a message flickered into existence before my eyes.

  Welcome to class!

  This is Calix Kalix.

  For this exercise, you will be a ghost.

  Do not be found.

  Use everything in your power to hide. If you succeed, you shall earn 10 points!

  This is only a baseline assessment, so do not be discouraged if you fail.

  Good luck!

  The message faded. The desert stretched endlessly around me, dunes rolling like frozen waves, the sun a ruthless overseer above.

  I exhaled slowly, scanning my surroundings. This wasn’t about surviving the elements. It wasn’t about tracking prey or laying traps. This was about becoming something that couldn’t be caught. I had never trained against people who could erase their presence completely. But now?

  I had to become the kind of prey that no hunter could catch. I adjusted my stance, shifting my weight lower. The air was still, but I knew it wouldn’t be for long.

  Somewhere out there, the hunt had already begun.