It had been two weeks since the North Celestial Astro Station had suffered the wrath of a primordial beast invasion. The ruins of the battle remained abandoned, their scars untouched, as a far greater event loomed on the horizon. Only the areas with minor damage had been hastily repaired, providing makeshift shelter for the displaced victims. Those whose homes had been beyond salvation were relocated to either the Flame or Gravity Astro Stations.

The injured received unwavering attention, their recovery managed with meticulous care. Meanwhile, Karl, Lunara, Theodric, and Kola's subordinates played vital roles in stabilizing the station and efficiently butchering the primordial beasts. They carefully extracted the essentia crystals while preserving the integrity of the beasts' skins and bones for future use. Even the once-arrogant Flame Astro Station team faced consequences for their recklessness, assigned an exhausting punishment of patrolling both their own station and the Aqua Astro Station without respite, their shifts stretching from dawn till dusk.

Morning arrived hesitantly, the sun still weak upon the horizon, its light creeping slowly over the battered landscape. Though the stations lacked their usual vibrance, the echoes of life persisted. Merchants, ever resilient, spread their wares on frayed fabrics laid upon the ground, their voices rising in eager attempts to draw customers. Some repaired their damaged stalls, hammering away as they called out discounts, knowing that time was running short.

Outside the station's Supporting Agencies building, four warriors stood in disciplined silence, their weapons either obediently resting upon their backs or hanging by their waists like slumbering beasts. Karl, Lunara, Theodric, and Kola faced Nyxander, their expressions unreadable, though curiosity flickered in their gazes.

Nyxander cleared his throat, a subtle yet commanding gesture. "I summoned you here today to refine your combat skills," he declared, his tone carrying the weight of an unchallenged truth. "Your fighting styles are unpolished—too raw, too weak—to stand against the threat that approaches."

His words struck a chord, though none of them dared react outright. Instead, silent glances passed between them, each warrior contemplating what kind of training could truly sharpen their abilities.

Nyxander continued, his eyes narrowing. "While we're at it, there's something vital you must understand, something regarding the fusion of energy with your weapons."

With deliberate precision, he unsheathed his butcher knife, holding it steady before them. The blade, though simple in design, seemed to pulse with restrained potential.

"Watch closely." His voice was calm, yet beneath it lay an undercurrent of power.

Theodric sign, folding his arms across his chest. "That's nothing special. We all know how to do that." He said casually.

Karl shot him a sharp look, irritation flashing across his face. "Don't be a fool. Boss never does something unless it's worth learning."

"Theodric, pay attention," Kola added, his voice steady but firm.

As they watched, Nyxander's energy began to seep into the blade—not merely coating it, but merging with it, as though the weapon were an extension of his very essence. Unlike the crude infusion they had all performed countless times, this was different. The energy did not merely surround the blade; it became one with it, altering its very nature.

The air around the weapon hummed, faint ripples of force distorting the space around it, as if reality itself recognized the power being forged before them. The butcher knife no longer seemed like a mere weapon, it was alive, pulsing with an energy that transcended steel and fire.

Theodric's eyes were the first to widen, his pupils dilating in sheer disbelief. The others followed suit, their faces mirroring his astonishment.

A quiet tension settled over the group. For the first time, they truly understood, that this was no ordinary energy infusion. This was something else entirely.

"Whaaat…?"

Their collective exclamation tore through the air, raw with disbelief. To them, this went beyond simply coating a weapon with energy, it was as if the very essence of the blade had been reforged, fused with power at its core. The distinction was as vast as night and day.

Nyxander lifted his gaze from his weapon, his eyes like cold steel as they locked onto the stunned group before him. "So… what do you think?" His voice, calm yet weighted, sent another ripple through their shaken composure.

"Wo… wow," Karl breathed, finally breaking the silence. He let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. "I told you, boss never does anything ordinary."

The others slowly regained their composure, retrieving their scattered thoughts like warriors collecting their fallen weapons. But even as they steadied themselves, a strange discomfort lingered.

"Why do his words sting more than just a compliment?" Nyxander muttered under his breath.

"But… how is that even possible?" Kola asked, pointing at the butcher knife as though it were a divine artifact rather than a simple blade.

Nyxander's expression remained unreadable. "Possibility is a matter of will, when things become possible when determination meets understanding. You must learn to blend your energy in such a way that your weapon not only accepts it but becomes one with it."

A truth whispered in the back of his mind, a concept borrowed from the comic books of his past life as a mortal. A fleeting fragment of another existence, now wielded as an undeniable reality.

"And with this," Nyxander continued, "there is much you can achieve."

With a casual flick of his wrist, he gave the butcher knife a subtle toss into the air, its blade glinting under the morning light. As it reached its peak, Nyxander manipulated it mid-air, guiding it with the energy fused into it before catching it smoothly in his palm. However, the fusion could not last indefinitely, he could feel the weapon's handle absorbing and releasing the energy in the form of dissipating thermal heat, limiting the duration of control.

"You shouldn't be so surprised. It's actually quite simple..."

Theodric, ever eager to dismiss the difficulty of what he had just seen, almost shamelessly interjected. "You mean to say it's easy..." He never finished his sentence.

When Nyxander, in a single motion, swung the butcher knife across them, and the force behind the swing sent a sudden gust spiraling through the air, shifting the wind's direction as if bending nature to his will. The energy from the blade carved through the thick ground before them as though it were soft butter, leaving behind a deep, jagged scar in the earth.

The air around them froze in an instant.

For a fleeting moment, no one moved, no one spoke, only the sound of sweat dripping onto the ground from their stunned expressions betrayed the gravity of what had just occurred. The oppressive weight of Nyxander's power pressed upon them, an unspoken warning of what lay beyond their current abilities.

Karl, though the least shaken among them, still could not completely suppress the chill creeping up his spine. He broke the silence, his voice cracking the heavy tension like thunder shattering the stillness of a storm.

"So… is this today's training?" he asked, as if bracing himself for what was to come.

Nyxander merely shook his head, the subtle motion serving as a silent negation. "No," he replied, his voice an anchor pulling them back to reality. "That will be your individual training, something to master when you're less occupied. What we focus on now is combat training, to refine your instincts, sharpen your experience, and push your stamina to its limits."

His words, though spoken with casual ease, carried a weight that seemed to stitch together the cracks in the intense atmosphere. Karl, like the others, felt a shiver crawl down his spine, the cold realization sinking in.

A snap echoed through the air as Nyxander clicked his fingers.

"Void Lock."

A shift occurred, imperceptible to the untrained eye. The space around them sealed, bending reality itself to prevent outside disturbances, ensuring their actions drew no unnecessary attention. Though people continued walking in the distance, oblivious that the very fabric of space had been altered. Even Karl and the others failed to perceive it.

Nyxander adjusted his grip, his butcher knife gleaming under the daylight, reflecting a fleeting gleam of cold dark lead as he stretched it across his body, readying himself. "Now... let's begin."

In response, the others drew their weapons, their blades whispering as they left their sheaths, the final declaration of readiness.

The surrounding world fell into a deep, unnatural silence, as if even the wind itself had paused to witness the battle about to unfold.

Theodric was the first to strike, his seven knives shimmering with immortal energy as he imbued them with his power. With a flick of his wrist, he launched them in a seamless succession, each blade moving like a perfectly timed bullet fired from an unseen gun, slicing through the intense air that had thickened between them with lethal precision.

The air itself trembled, the force of their movement disrupting the stillness, warping the space between the knives and their target.

Nyxander eyes narrowed, his feet firmly to the ground.

The training begins

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