Magus Supremacy

Luckily, Grey and Thalos made it as they entered the large hall designated for the hand-to-hand combat class.

The Aetherian Academy comprised four massive buildings in total, all surrounded by thick, imposing walls and towering gates.

These buildings were separated by patches of grass, winding pathways, and even narrow corridors.

To the north of the academy stood the administration building, housing the offices of the instructors, the principal, and the vice principal. It also contained rooms where instructors could rest, should they wish to unwind after a stressful day.

To the west was the building for the second-year students, containing their dormitories, canteen, clinic, and any other facilities they might require. First-year students were strictly forbidden from entering this building under any circumstances.

To the east was the first-year students' building, which housed their dorms, canteen, clinic, and necessary facilities. This was Grey and the others' building.

Finally, to the south, there was a building divided into two levels. The lower level held a training room for students who wanted to practice or release pent-up energy, as well as the hall for hand-to-hand combat classes.

The upper level was reserved for second-year students, and, as usual, first-year students were not permitted to enter. The academy only had two levels of students: first years and second years.

Within this expansive training building, Grey and the other first-year students gathered in the hall where their classes were held.

The hand-to-hand combat hall was unlike the pristine, rune-glowing training chambers Grey had grown accustomed to. This place felt raw—untamed.

As Grey and Thalos stepped inside, a dry heat swept over them, carrying the heavy scent of sweat, leather, and dried blood.

The hall was vast and rectangular, built more like an underground arena than a classroom. The walls were made of reinforced obsidian bricks, burnished and cracked from years of relentless impacts. Faint claw marks and fist-sized dents marred the surface, silent testaments to every clash and collapse that had occurred here.

Overhead, thick iron chains swayed slightly from the high vaulted ceiling. Some were connected to weighted dummies used for advanced drills, while others hung as remnants of past brutal exercises.

The lighting was dim and uneven, coming from a combination of flame-lit sconces and faintly glowing crystals embedded in the ceiling. Their flickering light cast long, shifting shadows over the rough, scarred floor.

The ground itself offered no luxury. It was layered with compressed sand and bloodstained stone tiles, marked with faded boundary lines. Patches of dried blood remained despite repeated cleanings, and in corners, shattered training weapons and splintered planks were still lodged in cracks.

At one end of the hall stood a raised wooden platform where the instructor typically delivered briefings. There were no chairs, no desks, and certainly no comfort. This hall was built for pain, resilience, and evolution—a place where arrogance was crushed and forged into strength.

"Sheesh! It's obvious this training is going to be brutal," Grey murmured, scanning the room as students began forming groups according to their color bands.

Mada and his group stood slightly apart from the other red bands, an air of arrogance surrounding them. Grey scoffed at the sight, continuing to take in the hall and its intimidating setup, when…

"Hey Grey!" A familiar voice called, and Grey quickly spun around to see Ray and Finral heading toward him. "Where have you been?"

"Did you really need to ask?" Finral scoffed, raising an eyebrow.

"Right! Let me guess. The training hall?" Ray asked, and Grey simply nodded. "Figured."

"Who's the new guy?" Finral asked, his eyes narrowing as he looked Thalos up and down with curiosity.

"I'm—"

"He's Pink. The guy I said I met at the bottom of the cliff from the previous applicants," Grey quickly said, cutting Thalos off, who in turn turned to glare at him.

"Pink? Tsk! What a ridiculous name," Finral scoffed, shaking his head as he turned away.

"Whatever," Thalos replied with a shrug, his expression unreadable.

"Oh! You're a blue band? That means you're weaker than us," Ray commented, nodding toward the band around Thalos' head. "Don't worry, we won't bully you. You can hang out with us if you want."

"Uhm… thanks, I guess," Thalos replied awkwardly, his lips twitching into a small smile.

"As if you could bully him if you even wanted to," Grey muttered under his breath, chuckling at the thought of even the direct descendants trying to mess with Thalos.

"What was that?" Ray asked, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

"No…"

BANG!

Grey's words were cut short by the sound of the double doors to the hall being swung wide open, and a figure stepped in.

"Huh?" Grey muttered, his eyes widening as he stared at the newcomer.

A hush fell over the students already gathered. Walking into the hall was a man built like a mountain, radiating a presence that was both commanding and quietly terrifying.

The man was a living monument of combat experience. His body, a mass of sculpted muscle and battle-worn sinew, looked as if it had been forged in the heart of countless wars.

Towering nearly seven feet tall, with broad shoulders and arms thick as tree trunks, every movement he made was precise, coiled with power, like a predator in stillness.

His skin was covered in countless scars, some faded and some fresh, etched like war paint across his knuckles, forearms, and neck.

A jagged scar ran diagonally across his left eye, yet his gaze remained razor-sharp—two steel-grey irises that seemed to pierce through bravado and excuses alike.

He wore no armor only a tight, sleeveless combat tunic and dark training trousers tucked into steel-toed boots.

His fists were wrapped in thick black bandages, not for protection but to restrain the raw destruction his hands could unleash.

Despite his brutal demeanor, there was no arrogance in his posture, only discipline and expectation. Every inch of him screamed authority and capability.

"Good morning to you all. I'm Instructor Kent, and I will be teaching some hand-to-hand combat techniques that will be useful to you out there," the instructor announced as he stepped onto the raised platform at the front of the hall.

"I'm not one for many words, so let's get straight to the lesson. Spread out, give yourself a one-metre distance from the other person, and prepare yourselves for a brutal training session," Kent added, smirking as he scanned the students. Immediately, the hall buzzed with activity as everyone hurried to follow his instructions, tension and anticipation thick in the air.