Thors’ face paled at the order of the man, to battle the Ghost Swordsman, someone who was already well known by, if not the entire world, at least a vast majority of it as one of its greatest war heroes.
And now, that formidable force was standing right next to him, a mere student he was asking for a fight.
Thors faltered at the entire thought of it. He raised his hands and clenched them tightly, but still wavered at even the thought of actually fighting the man.
"Is that the best you can come up with? If you don’t really fight to kill, you won’t last a mere second against me." The swordsman leaned forward and patted the hilt of his sword a few times as he faced Thors, the gesture almost casual despite the threat hidden behind his words.
’Fight to kill.’
That thought alone made Thors’ palms grow cold and damp, his clothes suddenly feeling uncomfortable against his skin as a strange tension settled over his body.
Even without seeing what the Ghost Swordsman could do, he doubted he could accomplish anything against him, even with the help of the system.
In the end, he released his fists and shook his head, slowly lowering his hands to his sides.
At this, the Ghost Swordsman chuckled softly.
"Wise decision, young lad. I heard the new generation was cocky, but I am thankful you aren’t foolish enough to pick a fight with me."
Thors sighed at the sudden lightness in the Ghost Swordsman’s voice, the tension in his shoulders finally easing.
’I thought I was going to get punished for a moment there. The old man is scary as fuck.’
"Oh, before we go astray, I am Sergeant Quinn, your weapons class instructor." Quinn said as he walked towards Thors, his eyes closed.
Despite having his eyes shut, he appeared to move with incredible ease, as though he could see everything around him without the need for his eyes.
"I am Thor—"
"Yes, I know. One of the top ten students. I read the papers, and it’s quite interesting... Your determination and utter foolishness." Sergeant Quinn interrupted, finally arriving at Thors’ side.
"Foolishness?" Thors shifted to face the Ghost Swordsman, his eyes raising in a skeptical look.
Quinn laughed.
His hand suddenly wrapped around the hilt of his sword.
Then he moved.
Thors flinched, his eyes barely able to comprehend the speed at which Sergeant Quinn had suddenly skyrocketed forward. His body became nothing more than a blur as a faint afterimage accompanied his charge, leaving behind the impression that two Quinns had moved at once.
Reaching the slender body of the dummy, he finally stopped.
A flash of bright light passed across the throat and entire neck of the dummy.
At first, nothing seemed to happen.
The dummy remained standing, completely motionless.
Seconds went by.
Thors raised his gaze in confusion, his brows slowly knitting together as he stared at the seemingly unharmed target.
But before he could think any further, something unbelievable followed right after.
"What?... How?"
He stuttered as he watched the entire being of the dummy dissolve into nothing but fine ash, the remains scattering into the air as though the single flash of light had somehow turned its entire body into sand.
There wasn’t even a trace of the material left behind.
Sergeant Quinn straightened himself and then turned to Thors with a brilliant smile.
"How’s that for an awfully old chap?"
He was... Unbelievable.
Thors could only thank himself for ignoring his initial thought of fighting the war hero. If not, he could only imagine how utterly wasted he would have become, with nothing left of him, not even a single bone.
"Is this the ability of a Weapon Master?" Thors asked in mesmerization, his eyes still fixed on the spot where the dummy had once stood.
At this, Quinn rubbed his beard and slowly opened his eyes.
"No, Thors. This is the power of the chosen few. Only those with great charisma and a noble grin can shatter this wall."
Thors arched his brows.
"What’s that supposed to mean?"
Quinn slapped his knees and burst into laughter, walking towards Thors and patting him playfully on the shoulders.
"No... No! You are way too serious, Thors. Loosen up and learn to take a joke."
Thors could only stare at him, genuinely wondering about the behavior of this sergeant.
’One would expect the military, let alone sergeants, to be overbearing and serious, but this man... He is the exact opposite of what I would expect.’
Minutes had passed, and the weapons class was about to begin.
Aside from Quinn and Thors, there were now dozens upon dozens of other students who had also applied for the class, many of whom Thors did not recognize.
He glanced through the crowd a few times, taking in the unfamiliar faces scattered throughout the massive training hall, before finally turning to face their coordinator for the class.
Sergeant Quinn was seated on the top side of a platform, his legs hanging casually over the edge while one hand rested solemnly on the hilt of his sword.
The sight alone was enough to remind everyone present that despite his carefree personality, the man sitting before them was still the legendary Ghost Swordsman.
He yawned, stretching one hand lazily into the air, which instantly caught the attention of the entire room.
After all, they all knew who he was, and most were excited to hear the mighty words of such a feared war hero.
Quinn finally lowered his hand and looked across the gathered students.
"To wield a special Soul Weapon, you have to know a great deal about martial arts. You also have to be strong physically and mentally as a Superhuman, so today’s class will be far more explanatory than practical. So listen closely to the history of martial arts and Soul Weapons."
The faces of many students seemed to fall in dismay at the statement.
Most of them had expected to see the great Ghost Swordsman in action.
At least even a little.
But now, they were about to hear a history lesson that most of them already knew.
Thors, however, was eager to learn, especially after recalling the display he had witnessed earlier from Sergeant Quinn.
There was a clear difference between knowing that someone was powerful and actually witnessing that power firsthand.
Quinn began his explanation, starting with the obvious.
He explained how Soul Weapons were created from the harvested Soul Cores of Soul Beasts that had been slain and then crafted into powerful weapons capable of being used in battle.
Each weapon clearly varied in strength according to the monstrosities the Soul Cores were harvested from.
Some could possess extraordinary abilities, while others could simply enhance the physical capabilities of their wielders.
Then, Quinn moved on to the main part of his lesson.
Martial arts.
"Years ago, even before the war, martial arts were incorporated into both self-defense and malevolent harm against one another. But after the era of Superhumans began, just as the human race evolved, martial arts followed."
Quinn paused for a moment, his gaze sweeping across the mostly bored faces of his students.
His stories weren’t new to most of them, and the history of martial arts was something they had likely heard countless times throughout their education.
But for those who hadn’t, they were intrigued.
Their eyes gleamed with interest as they waited to hear what happened next.
"Martial arts evolved to make Superhuman Abilities more fluid, concentrated, and..."
Quinn suddenly thrusted a fist forward.
The movement was so simple that, for a moment, it almost seemed meaningless.
Then—
A loud crackle exploded through the air.
The space directly in front of his fist visibly distorted as a powerful force surged outward, the air itself shifting away from his knuckles in a concentrated wave.
The students’ expressions immediately changed.
Quinn smiled.
"Powerful."
A row of gasps rose from the crowd.
Some students leaned forward in their seats, while others stared at Quinn’s fist with newfound interest.
"This is all I promise you can learn in just a month of diligent training."