Scott stood quietly before the knife skill interface, his gaze steady as countless techniques scrolled across the screen. The sheer number of options was overwhelming at first glance, but he didn't rush.
He read.
Carefully.
Methodically.
Every skill had its own strengths—some focused on overwhelming force, others on speed, and a few specialized in wide-area destruction. There were even rare techniques that combined multiple combat principles into a single devastating art.
A normal Veilborn would have been excited.
Scott, however, was not impressed.
"These are strong…" he muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing slightly, "…but they're not mine."
He wasn't looking for raw power.
He wasn't looking for flashy techniques either.
Scott already understood something important—strength without control was useless. A technique that didn't match its user was nothing more than wasted potential.
His fingers hovered in the air as he dismissed another skill.
Too slow.
Another.
Too rigid.
Another.
Too dependent on brute force.
Scott exhaled quietly, his thoughts drifting back to his recent battle. The darkness, the creatures, the constant pressure of death—it had all forced him to rely on something deeper than instinct.
Astral Mind.
That was his true advantage.
His perception had sharpened beyond normal limits. His thoughts moved faster. His predictions were clearer. Even in chaotic situations, he could see patterns where others saw nothing.
So why would he choose a technique that ignored that?
"…It has to match," he said softly.
Something that worked with his mind.
Not against it.
Not long after, his eyes paused on a particular name.
Blizzard.
Scott tilted his head slightly.
The name itself was strange. It didn't sound like a typical knife technique, especially not one meant for close combat.
Still, something about it drew his attention.
He selected it.
Immediately, a detailed description unfolded before him, far more in-depth than most of the other skills. The Martial Hall clearly regarded this technique as something special.
Scott began reading.
The technique was created by a blade master known as Drake—a highly respected figure who had trained numerous elite Veilborn. Unlike most blade masters, Drake specialized in cultivating students with enhanced mental abilities, particularly those capable of reading intent or even fragments of thought.
However, such abilities were notoriously difficult to apply in real combat.
Knowing what your opponent would do was one thing.
Reacting to it in time was another.
Executing the perfect response… that was something else entirely.
Because of this limitation, Drake created Blizzard.
Scott's expression gradually changed as he continued reading.
Despite its name, Blizzard had nothing to do with ice or elemental power.
It was a purely mental combat technique.
Its purpose was simple—yet terrifying.
The user would analyze every possible action an opponent could take and calculate the optimal response for each scenario. Every movement, every strike, every shift in position would be predicted in advance.
Then—
The user would execute the perfect sequence of actions in real time.
Scott's breathing slowed slightly.
"…So that's what it is."
But the description didn't stop there.
Blizzard was not forgiving.
If even one prediction was wrong, the entire chain of actions would collapse. A single mistake could leave the user wide open, turning what should have been a perfect sequence into a fatal flaw.
Worse still, the technique demanded extreme mental speed.
If the user could not process information fast enough, they wouldn't even be able to use it properly. Instead of gaining an advantage, they would fall into confusion, hesitation… and eventually defeat.
Scott stared at the screen in silence.
For most people, this technique would be suicidal.
Unusable.
A risk not worth taking.
But for him…
A faint smile appeared on his face.
"With Astral Mind… this changes everything."
His predictions were not only fast—they were accurate.
His thinking speed had already surpassed normal limits.
Where others would hesitate, he could decide instantly.
Where others would fail, he could adapt.
This technique didn't just suit him.
It was made for him.
Without a second thought, Scott purchased it.
The system confirmed the transaction immediately.
10,000,000 credits deducted.
Scott didn't react.
Compared to the fifty billion he had just earned, the cost felt almost insignificant.
Still, he wasn't done.
His eyes moved once more across the interface before settling on another technique.
Infiltration.
This one was far simpler in concept.
Instead of focusing on prediction, it specialized in penetration—allowing attacks to bypass external defenses and strike directly at internal structures. For creatures with thick hides or armored bodies, this kind of ability was invaluable.
Scott nodded slightly.
"…I'll take this too."
After confirming his purchase, he leaned back slightly, letting out a quiet breath.
For the first time since entering the Martial Hall, he felt satisfied.
Not because he had bought something expensive—
But because he had chosen correctly.
Not long after, a notification appeared.
"Please proceed to the Plaza to retrieve your skill data."
Scott stood up and left the room without hesitation.
The plaza was just as he remembered—wide, organized, and filled with people. Some looked excited, others calm, but all of them were there for the same reason.
Power.
Scott joined the queue silently.
As he waited, he observed the people around him. Some carried themselves with confidence, others with arrogance. A few even radiated a quiet pressure that made it clear they were not to be underestimated.
Eventually, it was his turn.
He stepped forward and received the data code.
Simple.
Efficient.
No unnecessary ceremony.
Scott returned to his room and activated his communicator.
The code dissolved into light and entered his mind.
Information flooded in instantly.
Movements.
Timing.
Execution.
Principles.
Scott closed his eyes briefly, allowing the knowledge to settle.
"…Blizzard…"
He could already feel it.
The structure of the technique.
The flow of its logic.
The precision it demanded.
Without wasting time, he activated the training system.
"Matchmaking initiated."
A short pause followed.
Then—
"Opponent found: ID — Flower."
Scott raised an eyebrow.
"A girl?"
Before he could think further, the world around him began to distort. Space twisted and folded, pulling him into a different environment entirely.
When everything stabilized, he found himself standing in a massive arena.
It resembled an ancient colosseum—stone walls, open sky, and a vast battlefield.
Everything felt real.
Too real.
But Scott knew better.
This was a virtual environment.
No real danger.
No real death.
Across from him, a figure began to materialize.
Light gathered and formed into a human shape.
Then—
She appeared.
Scott narrowed his eyes slightly.
She was beautiful.
Strikingly so.
Her eyes shimmered like crystal, and her posture was calm and composed. There was an elegance about her that was hard to ignore.
"…Flower," Scott muttered.
He studied her for a moment, then spoke casually.
"Hey, I'm not really fond of beating up women. You should just quit now."
For a brief moment, there was silence.
Then her expression changed.
Cold.
Sharp.
"How dare you speak to me like that?"
Scott blinked, slightly confused by her reaction.
But before he could respond—
She moved.
No warning.
No hesitation.
Her weapon appeared instantly.
A sword.
Elegant.
Deadly.
Its hilt shaped like a lotus.
Scott's gaze sharpened.
That wasn't ordinary.
Then she struck.
Fast.
Scott's eyes widened as he instinctively raised his Red Teeth Knife to block—
Too fast—