The girl turned to the boy who had appeared beside her. "What?"
Max pointed to the backing. "Most of the damage is up there. Whatever’s hitting it is twisting the shield away from your grip."
"That’s what I’ve been telling her," the shopkeeper said.
The girl gave the shield another look. "We’ve been training against heavy weapons. I keep catching the blows on the rim because they’re coming down from above."
"Then the rim’s taking more force than your arm can hold steady," Max said. "Could you meet the strike a little closer to the center?"
"Not against some of the people I’m training with." Her tone wasn’t hostile. She sounded genuinely tired of the problem.
"I’ll have to change how I angle it..."
The shopkeeper took the shield to her repair bench. "I’ll reinforce the backing this time. And you can talk to your instructor before you break another one."
The girl sighed, then looked back at Max. "You use a shield?"
"No."
"You sounded like you did."
"Well, I used to work with monster specimens. You get used to working out how things are damaged."
Her eyes briefly moved to his gauntlet, then returned to his face.
"You’re a researcher?"
"At USARD. My name’s Max."
"Talia." She lifted the shield slightly in greeting, then remembered its damaged strap and put it down. "I’m on the Academy’s Player track. Combat division."
Max glanced at the Academy insignia stitched into her sleeve.
"Does the Academy teach proper close combat?" he asked.
"Of course. Why?"
"I’ve mostly been fighting monsters. I’m curious how trained Players fight."
Talia considered him with more interest now. "What rank are you?"
"F."
"Then you can join the open sessions. Some of them are for beginners, but the sparring classes include higher-ranked students too." She paused. "You won’t be allowed to use those claws without covers."
Max flexed the fingers of his gauntlet. "That’s fine. When are the sessions?"
"Tomorrow morning. I’m going to be there." She glanced at the clothes in his hands.
"If you want to see what the combat division is like, just register at the desk. They’ll give you a practice weapon if you need one."
The shopkeeper called Talia over to discuss the repair, leaving Max to consider the suggestion.
He’d spent the morning buying things to keep himself alive. The money had been worth spending, but he knew equipment could only do so much.
He still had trouble controlling Burst Step when he needed to stop suddenly, and the Alpha had taught him how costly one badly timed movement could be.
Sparring against Players who had trained for years sounded useful. And unlike a Gate, he could find out what he was capable of without worrying about being eaten.
Max selected a dark jacket and trousers that gave him plenty of room to move, along with a pair of sturdy boots.
The shopkeeper adjusted the jacket’s right cuff so it wouldn’t catch beneath his gauntlet, then charged him three hundred and forty credits for the set and boots.
He paid and changed into the new outfit before leaving. It wasn’t enchanted armor, but it felt comfortable, and he could move his arms freely without the sleeves tightening across his shoulders.
[Available Balance: 1,624 Credits]
***
When Talia came out from the repair bench, she found Max testing a quick turn near the door.
"So, are you coming tomorrow?" she asked.
"Yeah. I think I will."
"Good. Ask for Instructor Hale’s open session. He usually lets visitors watch before deciding whether to join."
"Thanks. I’ll see you there."
Talia nodded and returned to collect her shield.
Max walked out with a considerably lighter wallet and a bag full of potions. He could have spent the rest on a new weapon or one of the cheaper enchantments he’d seen, but he preferred keeping some money aside until his next hunt.
His gauntlet remained at forty-two kills out of fifty, and he was still curious about its next unlock.
That could wait a little longer, though. There was another kind of strength he wanted to understand first.
At the crossing near the market entrance, Max looked toward the Academy’s combat buildings.
Students were heading in and out with training weapons, and a few were gathered outside, talking over the morning’s sparring results.
He’d passed those buildings plenty of times on his way to the laboratories. Today he had an invitation to walk inside.
’Let’s see what these combat students can do.’
***
The next morning, Max arrived at the Academy’s combat wing while students were still making their way to the morning sessions.
Unlike the research buildings he was familiar with, the combat wing was already quite lively.
He was approaching the entrance when two boys emerged from inside.
"I’m telling you, my arm is still numb," one of them complained while shaking his right hand.
"Then why did you try blocking her shield with your bare arm?"
"I thought I could take it! I reinforced my arm with mana."
"Well, you clearly didn’t reinforce it enough."
The first boy frowned and stopped walking. "That’s not the problem. My reinforcement was perfectly fine until she activated her skill. How was I supposed to know the impact would pass through it?"
Max watched them pass, his interest growing.
’Mana reinforcement, huh?’
He knew the principle, of course. Some combat classes could strengthen particular parts of their bodies by circulating mana through them.
What interested him was the mention of a shield skill capable of bypassing that reinforcement.
He wondered how it worked.
A loud impact suddenly came from somewhere inside the building.
BAM!
"Again! Keep your guard up!"
Max turned toward the entrance, where the instructor’s voice had come from. Through the open doors, he could see several students moving between training rooms, while others waited along the corridor with their equipment.
He entered, taking a moment to look around.
The reception hall was considerably larger than he’d expected. Several screens displayed training schedules, available facilities, and notices about upcoming assessments.
A few students were gathered around one of them, discussing their placements.
Max approached the reception desk, where a woman was checking students into their respective sessions.
"Good morning. I’d like to join Instructor Hale’s open session."