Mutant awakening: My evolution knows no bounds

Silas's heart hammered in his chest as he processed Kara's words. The accusation of using energy pills was absurd, but the implications were dangerous, and his mind raced with possibilities. "What do you mean, energy pills? I've never used those in my life!" he blurted out, disbelief painting his features.

Kara rolled her eyes, amusement dancing in her expression. She closed the distance between them, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Relax, Griswold. It's obvious you didn't use any. Mary, the mind reader, fabricated that story because she couldn't read you. It's not something she wants anyone finding out, so she spun that little lie. If you're smart, you'll keep playing along." The glint in her eyes suggested she found his panic amusing, and a small smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth.

Silas could feel the anxiety tightening in his chest. The thought of being sent to the jingling bars—a notorious detention facility where students faced severe punishment—made his stomach churn. "So I'm off to the jingling bars, then?" he asked, his voice thick with dread.

"Not quite," Kara replied, her expression shifting to one of seriousness. "Sir Dominic mulled it over and decided to put you on punishment detail—three weeks as a porter and picker. You'll be among the staff raiding a low-grade realm, working without pay or compensation. Think of it as 'community service.'" Her tone suggested she thought the punishment was fitting, if not a bit amusing.

Silas took a moment to process her words, a mixture of relief and curiosity flooding through him. While he hadn't envisioned such a fate, he saw a silver lining in it. Being part of a raid could potentially lead to level-ups, hidden rewards, or at least some valuable experience. Suppressing a smirk, he replied, "That sounds fair enough."

Kara nodded, her expression softening momentarily. After a quick farewell, he turned and left her, heading toward the dojo. As he walked through the academy's bustling corridors, students hurried past him, some laughing and others exchanging heated discussions. The cacophony of voices faded into the background as he focused on the anticipation of the training ahead.

Pushing open the heavy wooden doors to the dojo, Silas was greeted by the familiar scent of sweat, polished wood, and an undercurrent of determination that permeated the air. The sight before him was familiar yet slightly jarring. Students were already lined up in their crisp red gis, forming neat rows as they faced a man standing imposingly on a raised platform at the front.

Silas's brow furrowed in confusion. The man wasn't Sensei Josh; instead, a wiry figure with hollowed cheeks and a shock of graying hair at the center of his bald head commanded attention. He looked like a specter, a ghost of someone who had endured too many battles. 'Where's Josh?' Silas wondered, an unsettling feeling creeping over him as he walked into the dressing room to put on his own gi, the fabric familiar against his skin.

Re-emerging, Silas stood beside Angelica, who remained stoic, her gaze fixed on the sensei with a intensity that seemed to exclude everyone else from her world. "Good morning. You didn't come for breakfast," Silas ventured, trying to bridge the gap.

Her eyes flicked to him briefly, cold and unyielding. "I wasn't hungry," she replied, her tone dismissive and final. Silas felt the sting of her indifference, but he held his ground, unwilling to retreat.

On the platform, the substitute sensei spoke, his voice brittle but clear. "Sensei Josh is unwell, so I'll be leading today's lesson. My name is Sensei Sam, and I'll introduce you to a special move: the flying tornado kick."

Silas felt a thrill of interest spark within him as Sensei Sam explained the maneuver. "The flying tornado kick requires you to leap into the air, spin around, and deliver a kick while your enemy's defense is down. This move is particularly effective when your opponent is focused solely on your hands, believing you can only strike with your fists. The moment you see an opening, you leap and strike with your leg!" He demonstrated the move, launching into the air with astonishing grace, twisting his body as he spun three times before delivering a powerful kick that sliced through the air.

The students stood in awe, their eyes widening as he landed effortlessly, a look of control etched on his face. A thunderous applause erupted, filling the dojo with excitement as Sensei Sam stepped back, a faint smile breaking his stoic facade.

Once the applause subsided, Sensei Sam commanded the students to pair up and begin practicing. Silas turned to Angelica, hoping for a chance to reconnect, but before he could voice his request, she had already started walking away, leaving him standing there, the weight of her dismissal palpable. "Angelica—" he called out, but she ignored him, opting to join a different group of students who were all laughing and chatting.

Just then, a voice sounded behind him, smooth and confident, laced with a teasing tone. "Seems your girlfriend just ditched you, huh?"

Silas turned, meeting the gaze of a smirking boy with long brown hair that brushed against his shoulders, skin the color of rich chocolate, and a slightly muscular build that spoke of training and discipline. A glint from a Grade 3 skill slot at his waist caught Silas's eye, drawing his attention further. Your next journey awaits at empire

"And you are?" Silas asked, eyeing the newcomer warily as he strode closer.

"Sebastian," the boy introduced himself, extending a hand, the confidence radiating from him. "But you can call me Seb."

"What do you want?" Silas shot back, barely sparing a glance at the offered handshake.

Seb didn't falter, though a hint of embarrassment flickered across his face as he dropped his hand. "I know about you, Silas. You're kind of famous around here—the trash with no skill slot," he said with a smirk, his tone teasing but also inquisitive.

Silas's expression hardened at the comment, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "So, are you here to mock me or what?" he demanded, his patience wearing thin.

"No, no, I'm not here to mock you," Seb replied with a slight chuckle, attempting to diffuse the tension. "I was actually impressed by your fight against Billy and his minions in the cafeteria. It got me curious. Just how strong can someone be without an ability? I want to see for myself. So, what do you say? Let's be partners for today's training."

Silas narrowed his eyes, skepticism lacing his features. "Whatever you think you saw, it's none of your business. I'd advise you to stay out of my way." With that, he turned his back on Seb and walked away, leaving the boy momentarily stunned.

As Silas crossed the dojo floor, a strange prickle crept up his spine, a sensation that something—or someone—was watching him intently.

He paused, glancing toward the entrance, where the door was slightly ajar. A shadowed figure lurked just beyond the threshold, their gaze fixated on him with an intensity that sent a chill through his bones. The lingering sense of being scrutinized gnawed at him, but before he could assess the situation further, the figure slipped away, leaving Silas with a feeling of unease.