The next day, Theo stood before the training lab’s reflective wall, rolling his shoulders, flexing his fingers, and twisting his torso to get a feel for his new armour mesh. It clung to him like a second skin—a nearly invisible lattice of interwoven metallic strands that shifted with his every movement. He looked damn good in it. At least, he thought so.

  “So, do I look as cool as I feel?” He turned toward Raz, striking an exaggerated pose.

  Raz barely glanced up from his console. “No, you look like someone about to overestimate his own competence and break something expensive.”

  Theo grinned. “So no difference at all then, really.”

  The older man sighed, adjusting a few settings on the control panel. “The mesh is a prototype exoskeletal enhancement. It reinforces your movements, locks or supports your joints for stability, and redistributes impact forces to prevent trauma. Within reason.”

  Theo arched a dubious eyebrow. “Define ‘within reason.’ Punch-a-hole-through-a-wall reasonable or survive-a-falling-boulder reasonable?”

  Raz typed without looking at him. “Depends. What’s the wall made of, and how heavy is the boulder?”

  “Why do I feel like that answer means ‘neither’?”

  “Because you’re finally using your brain.” Raz’s tone was flat. “The mesh absorbs impact, but you’ll still feel the force most of the time. It won’t make you invincible—just less breakable. There is an enhanced strength function, but extended use will drain the battery faster than your attention span. There are numerous battery charging methods, ranging from solar absorption and ambient energy conversion to kinetic dissipation.”

  Theo clenched his fist, watching the mesh subtly tighten along his knuckles. “Fine. I won’t suplex a mountain on the first day. Still awesome, though. Thanks again.”

  Raz finally turned toward him, his expression unreadable. “Oh, no need for all that. It will be interesting to see how it fares. Speaking of…”

  The lab dimmed, and a holographic countdown appeared on the wall. Theo heard the whir of moving machinery as the training floor restructured, shifting walls and raising barriers to form an enclosed combat zone. He whistled, impressed. “This place is basically a Rubik’s cube of simulated violence.”

  “Before we begin,” Erasmus said, “you need to understand the nature of the enemies you’ll be facing beyond this facility. The System has reshaped humanity. Strength and skill alone will no longer dictate survival.”

  Theo crossed his arms. “Then what does?”

  Erasmus swiped across the console, and a series of figures flickered to life in the air. Theo watched various combatants appear—some glowing with raw power, others moving like distorted shadows, some barely human at all.

  “Knowledge, of course. Those who survived the System’s initiation and tutorials were altered at a fundamental level,” Raz explained. “Some embraced direct physical augmentation, others adapted to elemental magic, and a rare few evolved psionic abilities. Each type presents a distinct challenge.”

  Theo eyed the projections: a man punching through solid steel, another hurling a blast of blue fire, a third simply standing motionless as drones fired at him—the bullets stopping mid-air like they’d hit an invisible wall.

  “Strengths, weaknesses?” Theo asked, watching the figures move.

  Erasmus nodded. “Melee combatants overpower anyone with lesser physical stats but rely on direct engagement. Ranged fighters can be lethal from a distance but struggle in close quarters. Magic users are unpredictable—some deal raw damage, others control the battlefield. And psionics…”

  Raz hesitated slightly, his fingers pausing over the console. “Psionics are the most dangerous. They don’t fight you. They fight the concept of you. They manipulate your reality.”

  Theo exhaled, rubbing his temple. “That sounds really fun to fight against.”

  Erasmus tapped the console. “We’ll train against each type separately over the next few weeks. Understand their tactics. Exploit their weaknesses. If you can’t adapt, you won’t survive outside these walls. In that case, we can begin your training as a beverage maid.”

  Theo grinned. “Can we just skip to the second part? I think that’s my true calling anyway.”

  Erasmus sighed, shaking his head. “You cause me great concern.” He pressed a button, and the first wave of melee drones activated.

  Theo squared up as the first humanoid-shaped melee drone rushed him, fists swinging with trained precision. He barely had to think—his body moved on instinct, stepping just outside the strike zone as he caught the drone’s wrist. A sharp twist sent it crashing to the ground, where he finished it with a brutal stomp to the chest.

  The next two came in together, one aiming for his ribs, the other going low for a sweep. Theo’s mind broke it down instantly—the left drone was faster but lighter, the right was a power fighter. He pivoted, letting the lighter one’s momentum throw it off balance before driving his knee into the bigger one’s side, forcing it to stumble. A quick step backward, a well-timed elbow, and both were down.

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  Hand-to-hand combat was where he thrived. He could feel it before it happened. They telegraphed their moves, their weight shifts betrayed their intent, and every opening was his for the taking.

  Then the next wave stepped in. Only this time, they weren’t unarmed.

  Theo barely dodged in time as the first blade came at his side. The whistling metal forced him into a hasty backstep, and before he could counter, a shield slammed into his shoulder, knocking him off his footing.

  Shit.

  He tried to slip in close like before, but the shield user shut him down immediately, keeping him at a frustrating range. Every time he moved in, the sword forced him back. He hadn’t fought someone like this before—not with a weapon that completely dictated the pace.

  Theo exhaled sharply, forcing himself to focus. The way they moved—it was measured, controlled, but there were still gaps. The shield was strong but committed too much weight forward when blocking, and the sword normally had a half-second opening after a big swing.

  He just had to exploit it.

  The next time the sword slashed for his side, Theo did the last thing they expected—he charged in. The blade scraped his mesh, but he was too close now. The shield lifted instinctively to push him back, but he was already ducking low, slipping to the side before driving his fist into the drone’s exposed ribs. The impact rattled through his arm, causing a faint red glow to appear on his knuckles before dissipating to the centre of his body, but the drone staggered.

  Not letting it recover, Theo hooked his foot behind its knee and yanked, sending it crashing down. He moved before the other drone could react, grabbing the downed one’s wrist and hurling it into its partner.

  They both collapsed.

  Panting, Theo straightened, rolling his shoulders. That had been harder. But he’d figured it out.

  Erasmus made a thoughtful noise, barely glancing up from his tablet. “Not bad.”

  Theo shot him a glare, wiping sweat from his brow. “Not bad? That was brilliant. Are you watching the same fight, or do your ancient eyes not refresh fast enough?”

  Erasmus simply tapped on the screen. “You took longer than necessary to process the problem and took a hit to your side.”

  Theo scoffed. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Next time, I’ll just pre-install the Swordfighter Pro expansion pack, shall I?”

  Erasmus smirked slightly. “Calm down. It was actually a decent effort, considering your laughably limited knowledge.” He paused, making notes on his tablet. “Against baseline fighters, you perform adequately. But brawlers aren’t really the threat.”

  “Wow, thanks, Dad,” Theo muttered.

  Erasmus ignored him. “I’ll add a kinetic feedback loop to your device. The mesh already absorbs kinetic energy, using piezoelectric nanofibers to store it in micro-capacitors, but I’ll tweak it so the energy can be discharged into your strikes instead of just boosting battery life.”

  Theo blinked. “Cool. That’s… yeah. Got it.” He gave a slow nod, then frowned. “Wait, no, I don’t got it. That was a lot of words. So, uh… if I get hit, I hit harder?”

  Erasmus sighed as if it physically pained him to explain. “Yes, Theo. I am enhancing your ability to counterattack.”

  Theo grinned. “See? Why couldn’t you just say that?”

  Erasmus ignored him. “Let’s wrap up training for today. I’ll set about your upgrades.” His eyes flickered with something close to excitement as he muttered to himself, already planning his next technological advancement.

  Theo narrowed his eyes. He knew that look.

  “You’re suspiciously into this,” Theo said slowly. “Wait. You’ve got resources to work with now?”

  Erasmus barely registered the question, still scrolling through his data. “Yes. My gathering drones brought in a fresh batch of materials this morning.”

  Theo stopped, his expression blank. “Uh-huh. And yesterday, when I was out there scraping weird moss off trees and almost getting eaten, that was…?”

  Erasmus waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, that? No, that was just a test. I needed to see how you’d react in different situations to plan your training accordingly.” He barely glanced up. “You genuinely thought I created an advanced defence mesh from some ore and plants? My god, you—”

  Theo groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “You know what? Nope. Don’t care. Don’t want to care.” He turned, trudging into the workshop with the energy of a man who had officially reached his bullshit quota for the day.

  But after a few paces, he stopped. His fists clenched, and he spun back to the doorway, eyes blazing.

  “You know what? Screw you.” His voice was sharp now, cracking at the edges. “I’ve been in this goddamn nightmare for two days. Why the hell would I know anything about your science or your rules? You act like I’m stupid for not getting it, but maybe take a second to realise that I didn’t ask to be here. You’re so busy being a smug shithouse that you haven’t even considered what I’m actually going through.”

  Erasmus’s face twisted—just for a fraction of a second. But before he could speak, Theo was already turning away, disappearing into the workshop.

  As he stormed off, he heard Erasmus let out an irritated sigh, followed by a sharp, dismissive, “Tch. Overreaction.”

  But then—nothing. No scrape of a chair. No fingers tapping against the console. No immediate return to his usual work.

  That silence lingered longer than it should have.