After breakfast, the squires returned to the training ground, where most of them formed into groups. Many gathered around Dylan, which was unsurprising, as he was at the top of their ranks. His strength attracted followers like moths to a flame. However, some squires remained on their own, either unwilling to seek favor or too far behind to be recognized.
At the center of the training field, the strongest squires stood out—a cut above the rest. Their very presence was enough to distinguish them, and every movement they made commanded attention. These were the individuals who set the pace of training, the ones against whom others measured their progress. They were the elite.
Aris, sitting quietly in a meditative posture, focused his mind on a conversation with Zona, the AI chip. "What are these new features? How did you get them?" he asked.
[The exact method is unknown. However, it is believed that the mutation happened when the chip merged with your soul. The soul is still not fully understood, even in your previous world, so a clear explanation is impossible.] Zona answered back.
Aris exhaled softly in relief. "So, it's not some divine entity toying with me," he mused. Still, he couldn't escape the idea that, if a god-like figure was controlling his destiny, he was helpless to change it. He couldn't even manage to run for five minutes without becoming fatigued.
Aris, more curious, asked, "What about the predicting attack feature?"
[It's a combination of advanced data analysis and muscle recognition. I can track the slightest shifts in posture, muscle tension, and even the faintest motion in your opponent's body. It allows me to predict their most likely attack before they even think of it.]
Aris's eyes widened. "So, if I weren't fast enough, I would've been hit?"
[Exactly. But now, with this ability, we can see the attack before it happens. We can respond before they even finish their strike.]
Aris sucked in a breath as he muttered, "Good thing I was fast enough, or I'd be nursing a serious injury right now," Shaking off the lingering tension, he continued, "What about the other feature?"
In his previous life, Zona had been able to monitor his body down to the smallest fluctuation, detecting injuries, illnesses, and irregularities with precision. Since the AI chip had been implanted in his brain, it could effortlessly track his physical condition, making doctors nearly obsolete. But that was its limit.
But that ability had been limited to him alone. No matter how advanced the AI was, it had never been able to scan another person's body, not even through direct contact.
[Previously, I could only analyze objects through direct contact. Herbs are simple because their chemical composition is stable. Your body was also within my range since I was directly linked to your neural system.]
[However, living beings are different. Their biological state constantly changes, making real-time analysis more complex. Before the mutation, I did not have the capability to scan them externally.]
[Now, my scanning function has expanded. I can detect physical and biological changes in external subjects within a limited range. This ability is still developing. More data and time is required for full optimization.]
Aris took a deep breath to calm himself. Zona's ability was improving continuously, and he felt that his future was not hopeless. Even the rigorous training seemed like a crucial step toward a brighter future. He could now see the path ahead with clarity.
"Zona, what's the current range of this external scanning?" he asked, his voice steady as the excitement dulled down.
[Approximately 1.8 meters. The accuracy decreases beyond this distance. Further refinement is required.]
"How do I increase the range," he asked.
[The chip's processing power and analytical range are linked to the host's physical and cognitive development. Increased strength enhances data collection efficiency. A more refined body allows for higher precision in external scans and predictions.]
Aris exhaled slowly, his mind racing. "So if I grow stronger, Zona will improve its calculations. If my brain improves, its processing speed will increase. If my senses sharpen, its scanning abilities will evolve."
Now, Aris realized he was the only thing holding the AI back. "I can't afford to be my own weakness," he muttered. "I have to grow stronger. And for that…" His gaze shifted to the elite squires, who were conversing amongst themselves.
Without hesitation, he stood up and made his way toward them. A few of the elite squires glanced at him as he approached but quickly returned to their discussions, uninterested in acknowledging him. Aris wasn't looking to join their conversation, though. His eyes were set on a different goal. He wanted to scan them.
The other squires watched as Aris walked toward the elite group, whispers spreading across the training ground.
"Do you think they'll let him in?" one squire asked, adjusting his gear and glancing at Aris.
The second squire, focused on cleaning his sword, chuckled. "Let him in? He's good, but even I—who's much stronger—couldn't get into their group. They'll probably ignore him."
"Maybe he's got something we don't know about," the first squire said, watching Aris closely. "He looks like he's up to something."
A third squire overheard and grinned. "If anyone's getting in, it'll be Chris. He's the one only one enough to rival them."
Some squires, however, were too busy preparing for the next training session to pay much attention. However, for those who were watching, whether Aris would be accepted into the elite group was the center of their conversations.
Aris stood exactly 1.6 meters from the three elite squires, catching their attention. One of them raised an eyebrow. "Why did he stop?" he wondered, his gaze flicking to the others around them. "Is he afraid?" He thought, scanning the group of squires who were watching them. "Yeah, he's definitely afraid."
Aris, oblivious to the squire's thoughts, remained calm. He focused inwardly and spoke to the AI. "Scan them."
The AI chip immediately complied, providing the results.
[Name: Unknown, Strength: 1.5, Agility: 1.4, Physical: 1.6, Status: Curious]
Then, it scanned the second squire.
[Name: Unknown, Strength: 1.6, Agility: 1.6, Physical: 1.7, Status: Curious]
Finally, the AI scanned the last squire, noting the same stats as the first.
[Name: Unknown, Strength: 1.5, Agility: 1.4, Physical: 1.6, Status: Curious]
Aris processed the information, with each squire's stats clearly listed, and considered how they compared to his own current strength.
As Aris returned to his spot, the elite squires exchanged glances, their curiosity piqued.
"Another one who knows his place," one of them muttered with a lazy smirk, scanning Aris from head to toe.
"Yeah, at least the others have the guts to try and follow us. This one… not even a hint of ambition." The second squire scoffed, rolling his eyes.
"Pathetic," the third added, his voice dripping with disdain. "Doesn't even dare to ask. What a waste of potential."
Dylan, who had been observing the exchange with a calm gaze, let out a quiet hum. Did I misjudge him? The thought crossed his mind, but he quickly pushed it aside. Confidence surged through him. "No way. Even if I did not, it's not like I'm going to lose my top spot to him." although he could see potential in Aris, he was not afraid.
His grip tightened around his sword as the warnings of the battlefield appeared in his mind. "I'll do whatever it takes to stay at the top and become strong enough to survive on the hellish battlefield." His jaw clenched, and a fire sparked in his eyes. "No one's going to take my place."
"They're overwhelmingly stronger than I am," Aris thought, his mind racing as he observed the elite squires. They're stronger than the top athletes from my previous life—hell, they're still growing.
In his past world, an average adult human's stats were 1.0, the physically fit ones at 1.2, and athletes could reach 1.3. But here, things were different. This world may be behind technologically but in terms of physical strength… Aris paused, " It's far beyond anything I've known. And their lifespans—those are probably longer too than the people In my previous world."
An idea started to take shape in his mind. Strength in this world isn't solely a result of physical training. There's an element in the very essence of this world that enables individuals to exceed what he previously considered unattainable.
After twenty minutes, the instructor returned, but he wasn't alone this time. A man clad in full-body silver armor—its polished surface reflecting the sunlight—walked beside him. The squires immediately snapped into position, standing at attention.
The armored man started to pace back and forth in front of the squires, his eyes scanning each of them closely. "They're good," he muttered after a moment. "You've trained them well."
The instructor, eager to please, nodded. "Thank you for the praise, sir. I'm just doing my job."
But the armored man's gaze lingered a moment longer, sweeping over the group until it fell on Aris. His brow furrowed. "Why is he here?" he asked, pointing directly at Aris.
The instructor glanced around, clearly confused. "Who?"
The armored man's finger didn't waver. "This one. This malnourished, weak boy who looks like he might drop dead any moment."
A heavy silence fell over the group. The instructor's face tightened, an inner fury bubbling, but he kept his composure. "Why must it be you?" he thought bitterly, though his face remained neutral.
"I heard this one was brought here by Fred, the attendant of Young Master Barl from Val's family, sir," the instructor replied.
"Oh, the Val's family," the armored man murmured, his tone laced with curiosity. "But why would he send one slave boy if they want to partake in the war?"
The instructor stiffened. "I'm not sure, sir. But I heard he has potential. Some say he's worth ten slave boys, based on the rumors."
The squires, who were quietly eavesdropping, couldn't help but scoff to themselves. "Worth ten? Then I must be worth a thousand," one of the elite squires thought smugly, glancing at Aris with a sneer.
The armored man studied Aris more intently, but his expression remained unchanged. He couldn't see anything remarkable. "You call this one special? What's wrong with you?" he asked, his voice laced with skepticism.
The instructor swallowed his irritation, unwilling to admit any doubt in front of the man. "It's not me who calls him special, sir." He paused, his eyes briefly flicking toward Aris, remembering the strange agility he'd shown earlier, but he pushed the thought away. He could not say that this kid dodged his attack, as that would make him look incompetent.
The man didn't focus on Aris for long, and Aris wasn't affected by the man's harsh words. He knew he was weak, and that was a fact. But staying weak was something he refused to do. It would be foolish to stay weak, he thought firmly.
The man continued, ignoring the tension in the air. "In four months, you'll be sent to the army," he said, his tone cold and uncaring. "Your survival isn't guaranteed. Most of you here will die—that's certain. From what I see, it's inevitable." He looked over the squires, his eyes briefly landing on Aris. The words were harsh and direct, spoken without any emotion.
"What?! Four months? That's way too soon!" Aris thought, feeling his plan unraveling. "Why can't anything ever go the way I want?" He thought bitterly. Back at the slave camp, Garron had already destroyed his original plan of getting fit and then joining the squire station.
The other squires were just as shocked. The news hit them hard. Fear crept into their hearts; the reality of facing an inevitable death with no way to escape was terrifying.
Even Dylan, who understood the brutal reality of the battlefield, couldn't hide his fear. He remembered how, after a battle, all that had returned from his father's unit was his head, which he had to bury at a young age, and till today, it haunts him.
"Train harder if you want to survive," the man continued, his voice still cold. "And we'll give you more food to fuel your strength faster."
But no amount of food could change the fact that they were walking toward certain death. Some squires even considered desertion, but they knew the punishment for that was death. It seemed it was better to face the war, trying to survive however they could, than face the grim fate of being a deserter.
One of the squires, unable to hold back, asked, "What are we fighting for, sir?" The other squires stared at him as if he had just signed his death sentence. He had asked the very question none of them dared speak aloud.
"Ah, a good question indeed," the man said, his tone surprisingly calm, which made the squires uneasy. Usually, any inappropriate question would be met with immediate punishment, but the man's reaction was far from what they expected.