Micah stared at Elric, stunned by his words—and more so by his actions. He couldn't hold back. "Did I hit you too hard that you've gone stupid? What are you even doing?"

In front of him, Elric said nothing. He simply held up a small token, murmured a few quiet words, and calmly tucked it away. His gaze fixed on Micah—not with anger, but with the cold detachment of someone watching a man who'd just wagered his life... and lost.

Still, he said nothing.

A chill crept into Micah's chest, but with so many eyes on him, he couldn't afford to show it. He swallowed hard, drew a breath, and forced his features back into the mask of confidence he always wore.

Seconds passed. Nothing happened.

The tension faded away from Micah's shoulders, replaced by smugness.

"If you were just buying time," he said, voice curling into a sneer, "you should've begged. That would've worked better than some cheap parlor trick."

What he didn't see was that Elric, deep inside, was also smiling.

No one around said anything to Micah. The silence around him was thick, heavy with held breaths. Every spectator knew exactly what he had done—and none dared to comment.

Just as Micah moved to take a step forward, a sound broke the tension: slow footsteps echoing from the ruined entrance of the complex.

"I was barely five minutes into the Gravity Room before I got called out," came a lazy voice from the shadows. "Elric, I thought you could handle this."

Nova emerged from the wrecked doorway, brushing dust from his jacket as he stepped into the open.

Elric quickly moved to meet him. "Boss, this is a tough one," he said, gesturing at Micah, then pointing to his own lip where a thin line of blood was still visible. "He sent me flying with a single punch. Figured I'd better call you before we lost another wall."

Nova followed Elric's pointing finger, his gaze settling on Micah. "Who are you, and why are you here?" he asked.

Before Micah could answer, Nova waved it off with a sigh. "Actually—never mind. I don't care who you are. Just tell me why you're here."

"I'm here to let you know this place is about to be taken over by—" Micah's expression darkened. His jaw tightened.

"No thanks," Nova interrupted, already turning back toward the building. "You can leave now."

"Surrendering now is your best option. Later… it won't be so easy." Micah clenched his fists, his voice rising with barely contained frustration.

Nova paused, glancing back over his shoulder. One brow lifted. "Was that supposed to be a threat?"

"It is," Micah snapped. "I've given you all more chances than you deserve. That ends now." He muttered under his breath, too low to hear, "Boss can't blame me once he sees how it went down."

Then, rage flaring in his eyes, he lunged forward. His fists swung hard—straight for Nova.

'He should've done this from the start,' Nova thought, as he seized Micah's wrist with one hand and drove his other fist straight into the elbow joint.

A sharp crack echoed through the air—followed by a piercing scream and the heavy thud of knees hitting the ground.

Nova let go, letting Micah's mangled arm fall limp.

"To show up here swinging with that kind of confidence…" he said, voice calm, almost amused. "You've got more guts than sense."

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But the words didn't register in Micah's mind. His eyes were locked wide open, stunned. His mind replayed the last few seconds over and over, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Just minutes ago, he had believed—truly believed—he was one of the strongest fighters on Earth.

Now that belief felt like a bad joke.

From the upper windows, the captains watched in silence. Elric, still standing off to the side, let out a breath and slowly shook his head.

The others did the same, each with the same thought.

Their respect for Nova had grown—again.

After all, what better kind of leader was there than one strong enough to protect his own... and willing to do it without hesitation?

Micah finally snapped out of his shock, eyes refocusing—just in time to see Nova's fist rising.

"Wa—!" he blurted, panic flaring in his voice.

But the word never finished. The punch landed cleanly against his skull, and he crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

Nova lowered his hand and turned to Elric. "Wait here," he said calmly, then walked off, the burning gazes of his subordinates following him in silence.

As he made his way toward the smithy, his thoughts shifted. 'I'll need something to keep that one restrained... Can't risk him waking up and slipping away while I'm gone.'

His mind quickly scanned through the Inventory of materials he had on hand, ticking off options with practiced efficiency. It didn't take long to land on the perfect choice.

Softiron.

True to its name, the material resembled common iron, but its properties set it apart. Softiron was remarkably easy to shape and forge—far more malleable than its conventional counterpart. Yet once cooled, it hardened into something nearly unbreakable.

Exactly what he needed.

Ten minutes later, Nova emerged from the smithy, twirling a pair of dark-grey cuffs on his finger as he strode toward the complex's entrance.

The captains who had been watching from the windows were gone, leaving only Elric still standing over the unconscious Micah, guarding him from leaving.

"Carry him and follow me," Nova commanded, brushing past Elric and heading back inside.

With a quick nod, Elric lifted Micah's limp body and trailed just a step behind Nova.

They descended a flight of stairs into the dim underground corridors of the complex. Without hesitation, Nova swung open a the first door he saw and stepped inside.

The room was cloaked in darkness—the lights dead, the air thick and stale, weighed down by, at least, months of neglect and closed windows.

Closing in on Micah, still held by Elric, Nova moved with practiced ease, snapping the cuffs securely around his wrists.

"This is done. You can let go now," he said coolly.

Without missing a beat, Elric tossed Micah into a corner. The heavy thud echoed sharply in the otherwise silent room.

"Get some workers to feed this guy. Don't let him die," Nova ordered, already turning toward the door.

Elric nodded but hesitated. "Boss, can I ask you something?"

Nova stopped and glanced back. "What is it?"

"Why are we keeping him?" Elric asked, scratching the back of his head, clearly puzzled.

Nova's lips twitched into a dry smile. "Really? He said he's part of a group. His friends must be as strong as him at least and If they don't see him return, they'll come looking. With that kind of strength they must also be rich and I want to trade him for Gold coins. Isn't that obvious?"

"Yes, yes, Boss. It's obvious." This time, it was Elric's lips that twitched into a reluctant smile.

Nova's curiosity sparked. "By the way, did you test the training equipment I bought?"

Elric's mind flashed back to the humiliating experience, and he wished he could disappear on the spot. Gritting his teeth, he managed a nod. "Yes, Boss."

Nova leaned in, eyes gleaming with interest. "I heard the results have tiers. What did you get?"

Elric took a deep breath, bracing himself. "Strength, Speed, and Dexterity… I got an F."

Before Nova could react, Elric quickly added, "But everyone did. Everyone got F on all three."

Nova's surprise was brief, replaced swiftly by excitement. Without a word, he left the underground room under the eyes of a dazed Elric and strode into the newly built Gravity Room.

The loud panting and gasps of people training filled the room, but Nova didn't even seem to notice the sound. His eyes swept across the space until they landed on a punching machine.

Reaching it, he stepped forward, sending a bit of Mana to power it up. The target—a thick, cushioned pad—settled into place before him.

'As long as it's not an F, I'll take it. If it's an F I'll just pretend I was never here,' he thought, closing his eyes briefly. He drew in a slow, steady breath and clenched his fist.

Seconds stretched.

Then his eyes suddenly snapped open. Nova stepped forward and unleashed a punch fueled by every ounce of strength in his body—his fist moving faster than any eye could track. It was a test of pure physical prowess without the use of Mana.

As his fist struck the cushion, the expected booming sound never came. Instead, it felt like punching through a soft cloud—a muted thud barely audible in such a noisy room.

Nova's eyes flicked to the screen beside the machine. A single letter glowed back at him.

F...

His heart sank, and he almost turned to disappear from the scene.

But then his gaze caught something just next to the F.

F+.

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