Author's Note:-
Dear readers,
I'm truly sorry for the long gap between the chapters. Initially, I had to pause writing due to an important exam. But even after that, I struggled to return.... I kept telling myself, "I'll start tomorrow," and before I knew it, that tomorrow turned into several weeks.
But now, I'm finally back.
To keep things consistent and manageable, I've decided to write shorter chapters (around 1000+ words) so I can publish at least one chapter each day. I hope this makes the experience more enjoyable for both you and me.
Thank you so much for your patience and continued support—it truly means everything.
With gratitude,
[Devil_Yagami]
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Afterward, Ryota-sensei answered a few more remaining questions and offered a brief explanation before concluding the lesson.
He clapped his hands once and said, "That's enough for today. Everyone may leave now. Your next instructor will be waiting for you outside and for those who successfully defended their spots today—stay behind and give me their names."
The students rose, the floorboards creaking faintly under their movement. A collective rustle of footsteps filled the room as most of them filed out. Seven remained.
One by one, they stepped forward to speak.
The first was a tall, lean boy with sharp cheekbones and messy dark hair that swept just above his eyes. His expression was serious, almost aloof, but his posture hinted at confidence.
"Matsuzaki Ryo," he said with a respectful bow.
Next came a girl with a calm aura and a short, bob-cut hairstyle. Her hair was a cool ash brown, and her sharp eyes seemed to size up everything around her. She carried herself with composed grace.
"Iwamoto Misaki," she said softly.
Then Tatsuo stepped forward,
"Takigawa Tatsuo," he said, his voice steady.
Following him, Atsushi with a good-natured grin raised his hand in greeting.
"Tanaka Atsushi," he said confidently.
A moment later, a girl with long black hair tied in a high ponytail stepped forward. Her dark eyes sparkled with quiet determination, and there was a faint scratch on her cheek from the earlier fight. Her voice was clear and unwavering.
"Yamaguchi Naomi."
After her came a slim boy with striking silver-gray hair that fell in loose strands around his face. His features were delicate, almost ethereal, and his eyes were a deep, piercing blue. He looked like he belonged more in a painting than a dojo.
"Amano Takayuki."
Lastly, a stocky boy with spiky brown hair stepped up. His expression was stern, and his arms were crossed tightly over his chest. A faint bruise was forming on his jaw, but he bore it with pride.
"Katayama Hikaru."
Ryota-sensei unfurled a small scroll and began writing each name with careful strokes of his brush. The scent of ink filled the air as the brush glided over the parchment.
"Alright," he said once he finished, rolling the scroll back up. "You've earned ten merit points each. Keep earning them—it'll serve you well during this training period."
The seven young warriors bowed in unison.
"Yes!, Ryota-sensei!"
With that, they turned around and walked out into the light, where their next training awaited.
After the last of the students exited the room, a faint rustle echoed in the corner. From the shadows emerged the same elderly man as before, his presence quiet yet commanding. Ryota-sensei didn't seem surprised—in fact, he looked as though he had been expecting him.
"So," Ryota asked with a faint smile, "what do you think of this year's batch?"
The old man stroked his long, white beard thoughtfully, his eyes glinting with age-earned wisdom.
"It looks like children from all five clans are present this time... and there are two wild cards as well," he said, a smirk forming on his lips. "This year is going to be interesting."
"Haha. It seems like it," Ryota chuckled and then stepped closer, falling into pace beside the old man. "Tell me, Sensei... which one do you think will stand more among the rest?"
The old man paused, his fingers brushing through his beard once again as he sank into thought.
"Each of the five clan heirs show promise. But if I had to choose... I'd say the girl from the Yamaguchi Clan. There's a quiet fire in her. She has potential."
Ryota nodded slowly. "Yes... she may be able to restore her clan's former standing. But what about those wild cards? Specifically, the boy named Takigawa Tatsuo?"
The old man glanced at Ryota. "What about him?"
Ryota let out a sigh, folding his arms. "Come on, you noticed it too, didn't you? You of all people know what I mean."
"Hah," the elder exhaled. "I noticed. But the question is—will he survive long enough for his true potential to awaken? You and I both know... no one can drag it out of him. That kind of strength must be forged by his own hands."
Ryota's expression turned serious. "Still... that physique of his—it's only been seen twice in history. And both of them turned into monsters."
The old man's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Well... Abbot Yasushi holds the same classification—though he's far more disciplined. Peaceful, even. As for that one... he was.... a variable... A singularity. You won't see another like him in few centuries."
Ryota slowly shook his head in disagreement. "But Sensei... isn't it too much of a coincidence that both of them wields axes?"
At that, the old man locked eyes with Ryota. For a moment, silence stretched between them. Then, he looked ahead and let out a deep, hearty laugh.
"It seems the world is preparing for change. Perhaps it's finally time for us old relics to retire."
And with that, his form shimmered and vanished into the shadows once more.
At the training ground in front of the building—
Rows of fresh recruits stood in uneven lines. The morning mist still clung faintly to the air.
Before them stood a figure completely draped in black. His uniform bore no insignia, no mark of identity. Only his sharp, cold black eyes were visible beneath the dark cloth wrapped around his face.
"I am your instructor for physical training this month," he said, his voice gravelly and unrelenting. "Next month, the regiment will select a different instructor. Pray that it isn't me."
A tense shiver ran through the group. Several recruits exchanged uncertain glances, their earlier pride quickly evaporating.
"I am Instructor Yami," he continued, his voice slicing through the air like a blade. "Now... run."
There was a collective blink of confusion.
"Eh? Run?" someone muttered under their breath.
Suddenly, Instructor Yami's voice roared like thunder.
"RUN! Around the headquarters! Keep running until your legs give out and you fall unconscious! If I catch anyone slacking..." —he paused, eyes glinting with menace— "...I'll personally reward them."
That was all it took.
With the urgency of prey fleeing from a predator, the recruits bolted. Some ran with panic in their eyes. Others with grim determination. But all of them moved—as though the very gates of Jigoku had opened behind them.
Everyone was running at full tilt. This wasn't a jog or stroll or a paced run—every trainee sprinted at their absolute limit, lungs burning, legs pounding against the dirt. And for those whose speed began to falter even for a second, Instructor Yami personally corrected them—with the crack of a whip.
The sound sliced through the air like lightning, followed by the sharp, brutal smack of leather against the flesh. The unfortunate trainee staggered forward, crying out but immediately continue sprinting with fear. Witnessing this, no one else also dared to slow down.
Soon after only ten minutes, exhaustion began to take its toll. The human body, deprived of oxygen and pushed past its limits, began to shut down. Trainees started to collapsed mid-stride—bodies falling like puppets with cut strings.
And as if waiting in the shadows, figures dressed in black silently and swiftly appeared instantly beside the fallen. Without a word, they caught the unconscious bodies and carried them off the field. Instructor Yami, expression unchanged, marked their names in a black leather notebook.
By the ten-minute mark, thirty trainees had fallen.
Among them, One boy tried to fake unconsciousness, letting himself drop softly to the side. But Instructor Yami was not fooled. He strode over and, without a word, whipped the boy five times across his back. The painful strikes and his screams echoed, leaving the others too terrified to even think of trying the same.
At the fifteen-minute mark, Yami began marking again.
"...Thirty-eight more," he muttered under his breath, not bothering to hide his disappointment.
Now only thirteen trainees remained, including Takigawa Tatsuo, Tanaka Atsushi, Atsushi's younger sister, the five clan heirs and five others of normal background.
The first to fall among them was Atsushi-kun, collapsing with a heavy thud just before the twenty-minute mark. Alongside him, three others gave out and were swiftly taken away.
At exactly twenty minutes, five more fell—two from the normal background and three heirs from the Five Great Clans. Among them were Katayama Hikaru, Iwamoto Misaki, and Matsuzaki Ryo.
The number was thinning fast.
Tatsuo's condition was rapidly deteriorating. His breath came in harsh gasps. His limbs felt numb, and a burning sensation gnawed at his chest. His vision blurred, the edges of the world growing dark in his sight.
"N-No... I can still continue... gasp," he panted, sweat pouring down his face.
"Y-Yes! My body can... still ho—"
Thud.
His knees buckled, and his body collapsed onto the rough dirt, unconscious. The earth scratched his skin, but he didn't feel it. Two masked figures appeared silently and carried him to the infirmary, where the others had already been taken.
Now only three remained: Yamaguchi Naomi, Amano Takayuki, and Atsushi's younger sister, Tanaka Aoi.
Amano Takayuki was clearly in the lead, his silver-gray hair matted with sweat, yet his stride remained unwavering. Yamaguchi Naomi, on the other hand, was staggering. Her legs trembled with every step. Her breathing was shallow, chest rising and falling erratically. She looked as if a single breath might collapse her—but still, she pressed forward with fierce determination.
And just as the twenty-five-minute mark passed, she collapsed but there was a hint of relief on her face as if she has reached a goal of her.
Now, Only two remained—Amano Takayuki and Tanaka Aoi.
Neither spoke, but a silent challenge passed between them. Their feet pounded against the dirt, driven by pride. But Aoi-chan's state was worsening. Her breath hitched, her limbs slowed.
A few minutes later, she too fell to the ground with a groan.
Now only Amano Takayuki remained. Alone. Determined.
He pushed through another lap, his legs moving like machines. Finally after the thirty-minute mark his body also gave out. He stumbled, then collapsed with a deep exhale. The silent handlers came and carried him off like the others.
Instructor Yami stood alone in the training field, the dust settling around him. He opened his notebook once more and wrote something down.
Then he stood in silence, staring at the dirt marked by dozens of footprints and bodies that had fallen there. His black eyes reflected nothing, but behind them, thoughts stirred.
Calm and calculating, he remained still for a long moment and muttered under his breath, "This is only the beginning"