Theo woke up on the table at the edge of the workshop, feeling suspiciously good. The aches and pains from training were completely gone, like a bad dream he barely remembered.

  He yawned, stretching. “Damn, I feel amazing. What happened while I was out?”

  With that question, fragments of memory surfaced—training, exhaustion, Erasmus tweaking something—and then... nothing. His brow furrowed. “Actually… why was I sleeping? Erasmus? Explain!”

  Erasmus slid over in a chair, rolling away from his console with all the grace of a man who had no interest in explaining himself. “Yes, well. The procedure was a bit… invasive. I thought it best to render you unconscious. It was purely so you could avoid discomfort. Most certainly not just so I could work in peace without you badgering me every three seconds.”

  Theo stared at him blankly.

  Erasmus met his stare with complete indifference.

  “Oh, come now. I also treated all of your fatigue from training, which I wasn’t originally going to do.” Erasmus gave a self-satisfied nod, as if he were the pinnacle of generosity. “But it seemed like you finally had a breakthrough in taking this place seriously, and I am nothing if not benevolent.”

  Theo rolled his shoulders, patting his thighs. “I mean… that does feel better, to be fair. Thanks? I guess.” Then, squinting, he added, “Didn’t need to drug me, though. Hearing you talk for more than ten minutes is enough to put me to sleep.”

  Erasmus smirked. “That’s understandable. With the intellectual capacity of an infant, it’s no surprise short stories lull you into unconsciousness.”

  Theo sighed. “Yeah, yeah. What’s actually changed? With the mesh thing?”

  Erasmus arched his brow. “Do you want the simpleton’s explanation or the actual one?”

  “Somewhere in the middle, please.” Theo flashed a bright, fake smile.

  Erasmus gave a mild nod of approval. “Very well.” He adjusted a few settings on his console. “The mesh now features a kinetic feedback loop, meaning it absorbs incoming force and repurposes it—efficiently, I might add—into malleable energy that can be used to counter attack.”

  Theo tilted his head. “Right, so… if I get hit, do I get stronger? That sounds like a cheat code.”

  Erasmus rolled his eyes. “Kind of. The energy isn’t magically making you stronger; it’s being redistributed. Blunt impacts will be mitigated, but if someone hammers you hard enough, you’ll still feel it. The system buffers the force, not nullifies it. A big enough hit will smash straight through the mesh and turn you into a fine paste.”

  Theo nodded slowly. “Okay, so it’s like… I take a hit, the suit banks the energy, and then I can use that charge for—what? Hitting harder?”

  “For once, you’re grasping a concept without extensive hand-holding.” Erasmus smirked. “Yes. The stored energy can be discharged when you move a limb at a sufficient velocity, effectively amplifying your strikes. You hit harder because the suit releases what it previously absorbed. There is also a subtle neurological interface, which will react to thought directives.”

  Theo grinned. “Oh, so I can just stand there, tank hits, and then—”

  “No.” Erasmus shut him down immediately, rubbing his temples like he was experiencing a physical headache. “Overcharging will vent excess energy as heat, meaning if you just let yourself get pummeled, you’ll cook in that suit like an overstuffed turkey. Or it will just shatter, and you’ll be crushed. I literally just said this. It is a combat tool, not ‘God Mode.’”

  Theo huffed. “Fine. So, what’s the downside? Other than spontaneous combustion?”

  "The new component prioritizes offense over defense. The sooner you return a hit, the stronger it will be. That means in a prolonged fight, if you’re taking more damage than you can safely discharge, you better get out of there. And if you’re pushed too hard—” He snapped his fingers. “Fail-safe kicks in. No more fancy tricks until you recharge. Stored energy won’t wait forever; if you don’t use it fast enough, it will auto-dissipate to prevent overload.”

  Theo whistled. “Alright, so it’s badass, but not idiot-proof.”

  Erasmus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If only such safeguards could be applied—”

  “To me. Haha, Theo’s not clever. Get some new material, you shithouse.” Theo rolled his eyes and glanced down at his body, trying to make sense of the new information.

  Erasmus raised an eyebrow nonchalantly. “We need to begin your education if you’re to actually make use of this. You need to learn the various styles of threat you will come up against in this system. There’s melee combat, which we briefly covered. Then, of course, there is ranged, stealth, and psionic combat.”

  Theo’s head snapped up at that last part. “Wait—psionic combat? So that’s like… mind control?” He narrowed his eyes. “Oh, shit. How do you even fight that?”

  Erasmus shook his head. “I was literally just informing you that we will learn to fight it all, but thanks for the interruption.” He exhaled sharply. “It’s very rare, to be honest, and I suspect it will be one of the toughest things for you to counter. Time will tell.” He flicked a few settings on his console. “For now, we need to run tests, which we’ll begin tomorrow. Tonight, you will begin reading.”

  Theo groaned internally. The whole thing was beginning to feel suspiciously like school. Which wasn’t exactly something he had done much of in his past.

  But he knew this was important. This was the key to actually making his way in this world. It was like learning a new martial art—something he did enjoy. If he could understand the theory before the training, all the better.

  He sighed, standing up. “Augh, fine. Let’s get to it.”

  The first day of study was a battle in itself.

  Theo sat hunched over a stack of Erasmus’ infopads, his fingers massaging his temples as the robotic voice droned on about engagement control, firing arcs, and effective range calculations. He barely made it through the first section before his head lolled back against the chair, a long groan escaping him.

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  “Good god, I wish I was the main character in a novel or something. Just montage my way through all this crap and skip to the good stuff.”

  He waited a beat, half-expecting the universe to comply.

  Nothing.

  Figures.

  Day Two – Learning to Fight Other Melee Fighters

  Theo had assumed fighting another melee combatant would be straightforward. After all, he was a melee fighter—he knew how to punch, kick, and fold the biggest of men like a deckchair. But Erasmus’ material quickly crushed that illusion.

  “Melee combat isn’t just about strength. Most of them will have weapons you’ve never trained against,” Erasmus lectured, skimming through the screen as Theo tried to recall what he had just read. “It’s about knowing your opponent’s weapon and their fighting style. Are they a speed fighter? A brute force brawler? A counter-fighter? Each one has different weaknesses, and the fool who fights them all the same way will die very quickly.”

  Theo read the notes aloud, half to himself. “Grapplers need to control space—keep them at a distance or strike before they clinch. Brawlers rely on raw durability and power, so avoid trading hits. Technical fighters—ugh—are a pain because they study you as much as you study them. They punish predictable movements…”

  By the end of the day, he was mentally sparring with imaginary opponents, acting out footwork drills alone in his room. He felt good about this one—until Erasmus hit him with rapid-fire questioning.

  “What’s the best way to counter a dual-wielding opponent?”

  Theo frowned. “Uh, control their lead hand, force them into tight spaces so they can’t maximize swing angles—”

  “And against a polearm user?”

  “Uh… close the gap quickly. Don’t let them dictate the fight. Get inside their range and—”

  “Three seconds too slow,” Erasmus interrupted. “You’re dead.”

  Theo resisted the urge to hurl the infopad at his smug face.

  Day Three – Fighting Against Ranged Fighters

  If melee-on-melee combat had been a challenge, fighting ranged specialists was downright infuriating.

  The infopads detailed every variation—traditional archers, gun-wielders, energy-based marksmen, and even magic projectile users. Every single one of them relied on different tactics, which meant Theo needed multiple counters.

  “Ranged fighters control the battlefield,” Erasmus reminded him as he tested Theo’s knowledge. “So what do you do?”

  Theo sighed. “Don’t fight them on their terms. Use terrain, force them to reposition, close the gap fast, but don’t move predictably. If they’re using magic, I need to watch for charged attacks and find ways to break their focus.”

  Erasmus raised an eyebrow. “Acceptable. What’s your counter if they’re using explosive or AoE projectiles?”

  Theo ran a hand through his hair. “Avoid direct charges, use broken sight lines to force them to readjust, bait their attacks, and move in on the cooldown.”

  Erasmus nodded slightly, which was as close to praise as Theo was ever going to get.

  Still, by the end of the day, he had one pressing complaint.

  “Fighting against ranged fighters sounds exhausting. Why do I have to do all the work? They seem quite inconsiderate.”

  Erasmus smirked. “Because if you don’t, you’ll be dead before you reach them.”

  Theo groaned and dropped his head onto the table.

  Day Four – Fighting Against Stealth Fighters

  Theo had learned one very simple truth about stealth combatants: They were annoying as hell.

  Half of the material Erasmus had compiled wasn’t just about fighting them—it was about finding them.

  “You can’t kill what you can’t hit,” Erasmus reminded him. “So the real fight starts before the first attack. What do you do if you suspect you’re being hunted?”

  Theo listed off the notes he had memorized. “Don’t stay still. Control the battlefield, force them into open areas where stealth is harder to maintain. Pay attention to sound, airflow, disruptions in movement patterns. If I can’t find them, I force them to come to me.”

  Erasmus tilted his head slightly. “How?”

  Theo smirked. “Set a trap. Fake a weakness, bait them in. The moment they strike, counter before they can vanish again.”

  That answer earned him a rare nod of approval.

  By the end of the day, Theo was paying more attention to every shift in light, every sound, every faint breeze against his skin.

  At some point, he muttered under his breath, “If this keeps up, I’m gonna start seeing things that aren’t there.”

  Erasmus chuckled. “Good. You’ll need to.”

  Day Five – Fighting Against Psionics

  “Okay, but how do you fight someone who can make you slap yourself silly?” Theo asked, exasperated.

  “Psionic fighters are dangerous, but not invincible,” Erasmus said, loading up another infopad. “They rely on mental concentration, which can be broken. Physical pain, overloading their senses, disrupting their focus—you can make them lose control of their power.”

  Theo read through the section, intrigued despite himself. “So, they’re kinda like snipers in a way? If I get close, they’re screwed?”

  “Exactly,” Erasmus said. “But getting close is the problem. They often rely on perception manipulation, telekinetic barriers, and battlefield control.”

  Theo groaned. “So I have to be unpredictable, again?”

  Erasmus smirked. “Being predictable is obviously never a suggested course of action. However, in this instance, If you ever stop moving, you’ll be dead. But yes, unpredictability is key. Preferably stealth. A psionic user wants to control the battlefield. Don’t let them.”

  Theo tapped a finger on the desk, thinking. “So if I hit them before they think I will, they’ll struggle?”

  Erasmus inclined his head slightly. “Precisely. But do not underestimate them.”

  By the time the day was over, Theo felt more confident. At least psionic fighters had a counter..

  Day Seven – Reflection and Madness

  A full week of studying had passed, and Theo sat slumped at his desk, surrounded by infopads and an overwhelming sense of academic-induced despair. He had crammed more knowledge into his skull in these past few days than in his entire life, and while he could feel himself getting sharper, he wasn’t sure if the trade-off had been worth it.

  He exhaled, rubbing his eyes. “I feel smarter, but also like I’ve aged fifty years and now require a walking stick and a deep resentment for young people.”

  Erasmus, barely glancing up from his work, smirked. “Good. Now you know what it’s like to be me.”

  Theo groaned dramatically, flopping face-first onto the desk before weakly grabbing an infopad and chucking it over his head. “Next time, just let me fight a bear or something. Like the Russians.”

  Erasmus smirked. “Oh, don’t worry. Physical training starts tomorrow.”

  Theo froze mid-groan, eyes flicking open. He slowly peeled the infopad off his face, sitting up. “…Oooh. You mean I finally get to slap something about?”

  Erasmus grinned. “Indeed. Now we see if you actually learned anything.”

  Theo exploded out of his chair like a child on Christmas morning. “Let’s goooo! No more reading, no more lectures—just me, my fists, and something to hit!” He threw a few quick shadow-boxing combos, his grin so wide it was a miracle his face didn’t split in half. “You have no idea how ready I am for this.”

  Erasmus watched him bounce around like an overexcited puppy, shaking his head with amusement. “Don’t get too excited. If you mess up, whatever you’re fighting is going to hit back.”

  Theo grinned, rolling his shoulders. “Oh no, how terrifying. I’ve never been hit before. I’ve changed my mind—I’ll become your gardener.”

  Erasmus chuckled. “Please. You’d inflict more damage on my garden than you could ever manage against an enemy.”

  For the first time in a week, Theo wasn’t dreading what was coming next.

  He couldn’t wait.