C12 True Strength

Odin's inability to discern the priest's features wasn't due to poor visibility; rather, the second the priest emerged, Odin felt as though an invisible hand was clutching his heart. He was left breathless and consumed by an overwhelming sense of dread.

Enveloped by a dense black fog, he could see nothing. Instinctively, his eyes widened as he experienced the agonizing sensation of his heart being constricted. The urge to flee the church was powerful, but his legs felt as though they were weighed down by a hundred kilograms of iron, rendering him incapable of lifting them from the ground, much less escaping.

Time seemed to stretch on indefinitely in this state. It lasted so long that the priest had completed his daily prayers and the congregation had begun to leave their seats, preparing to depart, before Odin snapped out of his bone-deep terror.

With deliberate slowness, he lifted his feet, carefully masking his facial expression as he blended with the crowd and swiftly exited the church.

The terror he had just experienced lingered, leaving Odin disoriented even after he had stepped outside. It wasn't until the sweet scent of white flowers filled his nostrils that his cognitive abilities began to return.

Seeking solitude, Odin found a quiet corner of the academy, sat down cross-legged, and closed his eyes to reflect on the day's events.

The mere sight of the priest had instilled such fear that there was no doubt in Odin's mind that something was amiss with the Death Cult's clergy. He massaged his temples, feeling the exhaustion from the excessive use of his psychic force.

Given his unsettling encounter with the Death Cult, Odin realized he couldn't count on them to help him dodge the Ebon Hand's entanglements. It was clear that he would have to fend for himself.

Odin tightened his grip into a fist, resolved that if he couldn't depend on outside help, he would have to diligently enhance his own power and experience. By becoming an unmatched force, the Ebon Hand would have no opportunity to strike at him.

But the question remained: how to gain experience? Odin furrowed his brows, deeply contemplating a strategy to swiftly bolster his combat skills and experience.

Then, an idea struck him—the fighting club. He recalled how the experience he had accrued with the Curott siblings had prevented him from becoming an unwitting pawn of the Ebon Hand during Senior Anne's assault.

Absolutely! The fighting club is an ideal place to gain experience. By diligently practicing combat and mastering the highest level of combat skills, and by challenging stronger opponents, one's experience will naturally increase, not to mention their combat strength.

Moreover, with the support of the system, my learning ability is incredibly strong, which also accelerates my experience growth.

Odin checked the time; it was already four in the afternoon. He stood up, dusted himself off, and his eyes sparkled with renewed vigor. Having resolved to rely on himself, he was determined to make the most of every moment to enhance his abilities.

Upon returning to the Ahalin fighting club, Curott stopped Odin in his tracks.

"Odin, I heard from that guy with glasses that you went to the Death Cult. Everything okay?" Curott eyed Odin up and down, seemingly checking for injuries.

Though he wouldn't openly acknowledge it, Curott genuinely admired Odin's talent and understood that Odin represented the future hope of their fighting club. So, when he learned that Odin had gone to stir up trouble at the Death Cult, he couldn't help but worry.

Confronted with Curott's mix of concern and skepticism, Odin let out a resigned sigh. He wondered how the bespectacled kid had described the situation to the siblings, giving rise to such a complex look in Curott's eyes.

"Heh, no worries. I actually went to the Death Cult to seek the priest's aid, but it seems it was to no avail." Odin chose not to divulge the incident at the church. It was still unclear to him, and he didn't want to inadvertently drag Curott and his siblings into the matter.

"All's well, then. How about a sparring match with us three siblings?" Curott slapped Odin's shoulder with his broad palm, eager to gauge Odin's true strength through the contest.

Odin, who had been planning just such an opportunity, eagerly accepted: "I was about to look for you for a match. Your invitation couldn't have come at a better time!"

With that, he followed Curott to a dedicated Battle Arena. It was a sturdy round wooden stage, the kind of wood so strong that top-grade samples could slice through iron like it was clay. Encircling the stage was a fence of darksteel, the only metal more durable than the wood itself.

Typically, this area is not accessible to students practicing combat unless they've reached a certain proficiency level or during official competitions.

Odin cast a glance at the Battle Arena, where a row of small letters emerged beside the wooden post, reading "Top-Tier Wood."

He hadn't expected that despite its modest size, the fighting club would possess such a premium feature.

"So, who's up first?" Odin leaned on the darksteel railing, executed a neat flip, and landed firmly on the wooden stage.

"I'll go," Karna, who had been waiting eagerly, stepped onto the Battle Arena. "I've made a lot of progress with my practice over the past couple of days. Let's spar again. If I can't beat you, there's no point in challenging my older sister and brother!"

Odin had previously sparred with Karna. Though she was still honing her practice and display skills, her abilities had already surpassed many students. Last time, it took considerable effort for Odin to defeat her.

"Bring it on!" Odin chuckled, readying himself for the match.

Karna had indeed grown stronger, a testament to her lineage as the sister of Curott and Federica. Her talent and strength were evident.

Her combinations were quicker, each strike targeting Odin's vulnerabilities with precision. She excelled at leveraging her agility and nimbleness to weave through the Battle Arena.

Previously, Odin could just about manage a victory against Karna using the combat skills he had learned. Now, however, the tables had turned, and the situation seemed perilous.

As Odin was starting to feel the strain and on the brink of defeat, a message suddenly appeared: Ahalin Fighter's Display Skill, Level 1, Agility +0.2, Strength +0.3, Vitality +0.1.

Like the last time he learned a practice skill, a small plus sign accompanied the message. As Odin tapped the plus sign with his psychic force, he continued to fend off Karna's increasingly rapid attacks.

Although he was nearly exhausted, pressing the plus sign infused him with a warm surge of energy. He felt revitalized, as if his depleted strength had been miraculously restored.