Chapter 6: Chapter 6: Training Regime and Testing <Infinite Adaptation>

By the time Class 1-D’s academy tour ended, the sun had already begun to dip behind the western towers.

Most students looked exhausted.

Not physically.

Mentally.

The first day had been less about orientation and more about pressure—an organized reminder that the Grand War Academy was not a school in the traditional sense. It was a fortress, a military pipeline, and a battlefield waiting room dressed in academic colors.

Every corridor, every facility, every rule existed for one purpose.

War.

The tour had been useful.

Not because of what Stella showed them.

Because Kael now had confirmation.

The academy’s internal structure was still exactly where it had been in the game.

The weaponsmith.

The gravity chambers.

The virtual combat rooms.

The cultivation halls.

The leave request system.

And more importantly—

the parts students ignored were still where the academy hid everything worth stealing later.

That was enough for one day.

Kael returned to his assigned room in the first-year dormitory, shut the door behind him, and exhaled.

Small.

Clean.

Efficient.

A single bed, desk, wardrobe, private washroom, and a narrow window overlooking the lower academy courtyard.

Modest by noble standards.

Luxurious by military ones.

Kael loosened the collar of his academy uniform and stepped toward the wardrobe.

He needed to test his body.

Not Kael Draven’s talent.

His own limits.

The academy’s entrance assessment had already given him enough baseline information to confirm what he suspected.

His mana circuits were above average.

His physical condition was passable.

His sword familiarity was serviceable.

Kael Draven had not been weak.

Just unimpressive.

A side character’s greatest flaw was rarely incompetence.

It was mediocrity.

Kael changed into a fitted black training shirt and loose exercise trousers, flexing his fingers once as he adjusted to the lighter fit.

Then he left the room.

The hallway was quieter now. Most first-years had already settled into dorm gossip, meal schedules, or pointless attempts at early social climbing.

Kael ignored them and headed for the gym.

Halfway down the corridor, he felt it.

A presence behind him.

Soft footsteps.

Measured.

Not hidden.

He didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

Lilith.

Of course. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦

Kael kept walking.

She had been watching him all day.

Not constantly.

That would have been obvious.

But enough.

Enough to make her presence feel less like coincidence and more like inevitability.

He turned the next corner without acknowledging her.

The footsteps followed.

Troublesome.

The academy gym was still active when he arrived.

That was expected.

Even on the first day, upperclassmen already occupied most of the facility.

Some trained alone.

Some sparred.

Some cycled through mana conditioning drills with the sort of focus that made it obvious they had not spent the break resting.

Kael stepped inside and immediately understood something simple.

Everyone here was afraid.

Not openly.

Not consciously.

But enough to train like they had already seen what happened to people who fell behind.

The war had done that.

Even students too young to remember the first breaches had grown up hearing casualty numbers.

Everyone in the academy wanted to become stronger.

Some out of ambition.

Most out of fear.

Kael moved deeper into the gym, eyes sweeping over the facility.

The main combat floor stretched across multiple reinforced lanes, divided into sparring sectors and conditioning zones. Beyond that lay the gravity chambers and mana resistance rooms. Further in were the specialized training halls reserved for upper divisions.

Useful.

As Kael walked, someone stepped into his path.

His shoulder struck solid muscle.

The impact knocked him half a step back.

Not enough to fall.

Enough to be irritating.

Kael clicked his tongue. "Watch where you’re—"

The words stopped.

Blonde hair.

Neatly combed.

Red eyes.

Tall.

Refined posture.

Practice sword resting in one hand.

Zion Crawford.

Kael’s irritation vanished almost instantly, replaced by cold recognition.

Well.

That was unexpected.

Zion Crawford.

Direct descendant of the current Sword Saint.

Future wielder of one of the Three Celestial Sword Styles.

And one of the most absurd swordsmen in the entire game.

Even by late-game standards, Zion was a monster.

Disciplined. Detached. Brutally efficient.

He would eventually become one of humanity’s strongest frontline assets and one of the few swordsmen capable of contesting high-grade demon commanders without support.

The kind of character players either loved or hated.

Mostly because he was exactly as difficult to deal with as he looked.

Zion’s gaze passed over Kael once.

Flat.

Unreadable.

Then dismissed him completely.

No apology.

No acknowledgment.

No interest.

He walked past without a word.

Kael stood there for a moment, staring after him.

Then exhaled through his nose.

Right.

He had forgotten that part.

Zion Crawford was not cold because he was arrogant.

He was cold because he genuinely did not register people he deemed irrelevant.

It was less malice and more brutal indifference.

Still.

A little disappointing.

So much for meeting one of his old favorites.

Never meet your idols.

Kael moved on.

The gravity chamber was near the rear training wing.

A reinforced room with layered pressure inscriptions built into the walls and floor, designed to increase environmental load for physical conditioning.

He stepped inside and tapped his student identification against the rune lock.

A soft pulse of light passed over the card.

FIRST-YEAR ACCESS CONFIRMED

MAXIMUM AVAILABLE GRAVITY: 3x

Reasonable.

Kael stepped into the center of the chamber.

The room sealed behind him with a low hiss.

Then he exhaled slowly.

Time to test.

He already understood the broad limits of his abilities.

Perfect Copy was exactly what it sounded like.

Anything he could observe clearly enough—martial techniques, movement patterns, spell structures, mana circulation methods—could be copied.

Not learned.

Copied.

That distinction mattered.

He did not need to understand a sword form to reproduce it.

He did not need months of practice to imitate technique.

He only needed sufficient observation and a compatible body.

That was the first limitation.

Compatibility.

He could replicate the structure of a spell.

Not the affinity behind it.

If Kael lacked elemental compatibility, then copied magic became unstable, inefficient, or unusable.

He could mimic the form.

Not the nature.

That made Perfect Copy broken—

but not omnipotent.

His second ability mattered more.

Infinite Adaptation.

The wording alone had been absurd enough to sound fake.

But if it worked the way he suspected—

then this was the real reason he had been thrown into this world with cheats.

Adaptation was not healing.

Not regeneration.

Not passive reinforcement.

It was accelerated evolutionary correction.

Under enough stress, his body would adapt.

Pain.

Pressure.

Damage.

Hostile environments.

Repeated strain.

If he survived it—

he improved.

Which meant the ability had one obvious flaw.

It was useless if he died instantly.

Kael smiled faintly.

A broken ability with a very reasonable condition.

Survive first.

Adapt after.

Fair.

He tapped the gravity setting.

1.5x

The pressure hit immediately.

His shoulders dropped.

His knees bent slightly under the sudden increase.

Twice normal gravity pressed down across every inch of his body like an invisible weight trying to force him to kneel.

Good.

Kael inhaled slowly.

Then moved.

Step.

Step.

Step.

Each movement was heavier than it should have been.

His muscles protested immediately.

The strain in his calves built first.

Then his thighs.

Then his core.

He ignored it.

Kept moving.

He shifted into bodyweight drills first.

Squats.

Controlled lunges.

Push-ups.

Every repetition burned harder than it should have.

Good.

That meant the strain was real enough to matter.

By the fifteenth repetition, his breathing had deepened.

By the thirtieth, his shoulders trembled.

By the fiftieth, sweat ran down his spine.

Pain settled into his muscles like heat under the skin.

Then—

something shifted.

Subtle.

Internal.

A faint pulse moved through his body.

Not mana.

Not healing.

Correction.

Tiny.

Efficient.

Precise.

His breathing stabilized first.

Then his legs.

Then the strain became... lighter.

Not easy.

Manageable.

Kael paused mid-motion.

And smiled.

There it is.

Not regeneration.

Adaptation.

His body was already adjusting.

Minute improvements.

Micro-corrections in balance, circulation, muscular output.

The burden had not lessened.

He had become marginally better at enduring it.

Fast.

Very fast.

Kael exhaled slowly and reached for the gravity setting again.

Then increased it.

2x