Episode 2
Zeke made his way down the stark hallway towards the circular arena where the year-end evaluations were held.
As he walked, he glanced around at his surroundings.
“Just like I remember. Stifling as ever.”
Shields adorned with the emblem of the Draker family were hung at intervals along the corridor.
A dragon with a chain around its neck and a sword through its heart—the emblem of the dragon slayers, the Draker family.
Zeke grimaced at the sight of it.
“Never thought I’d see this again.”
To Zeke, the Draker family was both a source of trauma and an unattainable ideal.
A wall he could never surmount.
He believed that if he could attain the greatest power on the continent, he could finally erase the shadow of the Drakers.
Perhaps that was why he struggled so desperately.
He pushed open the door at the end of the hallway with a rough shove and stepped inside.
Boom!
The circular arena was already filled with kids around Zeke’s age.
They were all wrapping leather straps around their hands in preparation for one of the evaluation events, pankration.
“Hmm…”
The kids buzzed with whispers at Zeke’s arrival.
Ignoring them, he surveyed the arena.
It had been a while since he’d been in a pankration ring, and it brought back memories.
“Ah, the nostalgia.”
As a child, Zeke had loathed pankration.
He was small and weak, hardly what one would expect from a direct descendant of the Draker family.
At the age of seven, all Draker children, whether direct or collateral, began living communally.
In the area known as the “Cradle,” they endured five years of strict rules, disciplined living, and rigorous training.
Before the blessing ceremony, they received basic training in swordsmanship, martial arts, and physical conditioning, with pankration being one of the most crucial.
The Draker family’s pankration was a no-holds-barred match, close to real combat.
Injuries were common, but top-grade healing potions were always on hand, so it didn’t matter.
Such practices were only possible within the Draker family across the entire continent.
“Haah…”
Zeke exhaled deeply, stretching his muscles.
The other kids glanced at him, unfamiliar with this side of him.
Then, a voice broke the tension.
“Well, well, what brings you here today instead of running away?”
Zeke turned to see a freckled boy with red hair standing there.
Behind him, two burly boys stood with their shoulders squared, exuding arrogance.
“Who was that again?”
Then it clicked.
“Ah, it’s you. Leon Conrad.”
At Zeke’s words, the red-haired boy’s face flushed crimson, and he ground his teeth.
Leon grabbed Zeke’s shoulder, speaking menacingly.
“You crazy recessive gene brat.”
At that moment—
Snap!
Zeke clamped down on Leon’s wrist, which was gripping his shoulder.
Crack!
Leon’s eyes widened as he shook off Zeke’s hand.
Leon glared at Zeke, shouting.
“How dare you! Do you have a death wish, you recessive gene brat!”
Zeke looked at Leon with calm eyes, contemplating.
“Should I kill him?”
Before his return, Zeke had roamed the continent, experiencing every hardship imaginable.
Killing a twelve-year-old kid who hadn’t even awakened his aura was nothing.
As Leon fumed in front of Zeke, the other kids watched the situation unfold in silence.
Then, the bell rang, signaling the start of the evaluation.
Zeke watched Leon retreat and clicked his tongue.
He remembered how Leon had tormented him during their time in the Cradle and the academy.
“Leon Conrad. That damn brat was one of my cousins too.”
Zeke had four siblings and over ten cousins.
Even excluding the direct bloodline he rarely met, most of his cousins were annoying embodiments of the Draker spirit.
As Zeke mulled over his memories, an instructor stepped onto the arena.
At his appearance, the kids lined up in front of the circular ring.
Their swift movements were impressive for twelve-year-olds.
Zeke recalled the instructor’s name.
“Pan Mark. He was the head instructor for this batch.”
Pan Mark shouted from the arena.
“This year’s evaluation, like last year, consists of pankration and sword duels.”
The kids tensed, focusing intently on Pan’s words.
The Cradle’s evaluation determined their class placement in the academy they would enter the following year.
After the blessing ceremony, trainees would awaken their aura and enter the academy as yellow-ranked knights.
Their year-end evaluation in the Cradle would determine their class placement.
The higher the class, the more opportunities to learn advanced dragon slaying techniques, so the kids were desperate to score well.
Zeke clicked his tongue at the fierce competition he was experiencing again after twenty years.
“How did I survive here back then?”
As a child, Zeke had been weak in both body and spirit.
To him, the Cradle and the academy were nothing short of hell.
While Zeke was lost in thought, Pan Mark called out the first evaluators.
“Aaron! Gota!”
Aaron and Gota stepped into the ring.
Gota was one of the burly boys who had stood behind Leon earlier.
Both had similar builds, making them a good match.
Pan blew the whistle.
Tweet!
Aaron and Gota crouched, eyeing each other.
Moments later, Gota lunged for Aaron’s knee.
Aaron swiftly changed direction, grabbing Gota’s waist.
With a powerful move, Aaron lifted Gota and slammed him to the ground.
Thud!
Gota, winded, struggled to his feet.
“You damn commoner…”
Aaron maintained a relaxed stance.
Gota attempted several more attacks, but Aaron blocked them all.
The match ended quickly with Aaron’s victory.
“Hmm…”
Zeke watched the match with a bored expression.
“Is it because it’s a kids’ fight? It’s so amateurish.”
Pankration, which he had once loathed, now seemed like child’s play.
As Zeke yawned, Leon glared at him from across the arena, as if he wanted to kill him.
After a few more matches, Pan Mark called the next competitors.
“Zeke! And…”
Pan hesitated before continuing.
“Leon! Step forward.”
Leon looked thrilled, suggesting he had some prior arrangement with the instructor.
The Draker family outwardly presented themselves as a noble knightly family, but behind the scenes, it was all about schemes and manipulation.
“And they said only those who overcome such schemes can be true dragon slayers.”
Leon stepped into the ring, pounding his fists together.
Zeke trudged up to the arena without enthusiasm.
Leon sneered at Zeke.
“You recessive gene brat. You’re dead today.”
Zeke looked at Leon and spoke.
“Hey.”
Leon paused, looking at his fist before turning to Zeke.
“If you call me a recessive gene brat one more time, I’ll really kill you.”
Leon flinched at the murderous intent in Zeke’s eyes.
Realizing he had been intimidated by Zeke, Leon shouted even louder.
“You damn recessive…”
Whoosh!
In that instant, Zeke’s fist cut through the air.
Bam!
Leon felt as if one side of his face had vanished.
He collapsed onto the arena floor.
“Huff, huff… My, my face.”
Leon lay there, clutching his face.
Zeke recalled the message that had flashed before him when he landed the punch on Leon’s face.
[Skill: One-Hit Kill activated.]
“So that’s how active skills work.”
Tweet!
The whistle blew again.
Pan Mark shouted at Zeke.
“What are you doing? The match hasn’t even started yet!”
Zeke looked at Pan and replied.
“On the battlefield, no one waits for a ‘start’ before stabbing. The first to strike wins.”
Pan was taken aback by Zeke’s rough words.
“The kid who used to run away suddenly…”
At that moment, Leon staggered to his feet, seething.
“Instructor! Let me start again! I’ll kill that recessive brat!”
Pan hesitated before blowing the whistle again.
“Match start!”
Leon charged at Zeke, fists raised.
“That lucky punch must’ve been a fluke. This time, I’ll break your limbs completely.”
Leon, though small, had a natural talent for pankration.
Even larger opponents couldn’t match his fighting sense, often ending up with dislocated shoulders.
His cruelty was such that even when his opponents tapped out, he wouldn’t let go until he broke their arms or legs, making others hesitant to face him.
With renewed confidence, Leon lowered his stance and charged at Zeke.
But unlike before, Zeke showed no openings.
“What the…?”
Then, Zeke’s left hand moved.
Thud!
Though out of reach, Zeke’s jab struck Leon’s face.
“You little…”
Every time Leon charged, Zeke’s jab met him.
Thud!
“Ugh!”
Though light, the jab was delivered with a fist tightly wrapped in leather, tearing skin and rattling his skull.
Leon tightened his guard around his face and closed in on Zeke, grabbing his waist.
“Got you, you brat!”
Once he had Zeke down, breaking his joints would be the end.
Leon tried to throw Zeke over his shoulder, but strangely, Zeke didn’t budge.
“What… what is this…?”
Zeke leaned in and whispered in Leon’s ear, “I warned you. Mention that fanatic nonsense one more time, and I’ll kill you.”
A chill ran down Leon’s spine, and he instinctively tried to back away.
Whoosh!
But Zeke, sticking close, kicked Leon’s thigh.
“Ugh!”
The kick was surprisingly powerful, especially given the awkward angle.
As Leon lost his balance, Zeke hooked his leg around Leon’s and brought him crashing to the ground.
Thud!
Falling with Leon, Zeke drove his elbow into Leon’s ribs.
[A critical hit skill activates.]
“Gah!”
Leon gasped, unable to breathe as his ribs cracked under the impact.
Zeke mounted Leon, pinning one arm with his leg and pressing down on the other shoulder with his knee.
With a clenched fist, Zeke looked down at Leon.
Then he started pounding Leon’s face with his fist.
[A flurry skill activates.]
Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!
Zeke’s relentless punches battered Leon’s face.
“Stop, please, stop!”
Despite Leon’s pleas, Zeke’s fists didn’t halt.
Leon struggled, but soon succumbed to unconsciousness under Zeke’s merciless assault.
Only when Leon passed out did Zeke slowly rise to his feet.
“Pathetic little punk.”
Paramedics rushed in to carry the unconscious Leon out of the arena.
Having turned Leon into a bloody mess in mere moments, Zeke returned to his seat.
The sudden shift in Zeke’s demeanor left the other kids exchanging glances, trying to make sense of the situation.
Zeke’s voice cut through the air.
“I can hear your eyes darting around, you know.”
All eyes turned to Zeke.
He chuckled and continued, “Now that I’ve worked up a sweat, my head’s finally clear. I can even remember who’s who.”
The kids, baffled by his words, just stared at him in silence.
“If you’ve got something to say, come say it. Stop with the shifty eyes.”
Just then, a boy with sharp, intense eyes raised his hand.
“Instructor.”
Zeke recognized the boy.
“Ah, I remember. Jakken Valdeck. Another cousin, huh?”
Jakken’s words drew the instructor’s attention to Zeke.
“Zeke, what do you want to do?”
Zeke thought for a moment before standing up.
“Why not? A little more exercise won’t hurt. But you know,” he pointed at Jakken, “you’re not enough on your own.”
He gestured to the boy sitting silently next to Jakken.
“Liam Stone.”
The boy looked up quietly.
Zeke smirked at him.
“Both of you, come at me together.”
He grinned widely.
“That should even things out a bit.”