Chapter 141. New Job

"One thousand and eighty-four." Adom's arms trembled as he lowered his chest toward the ground, the weight on his back pressing down like a

"One thousand and eighty-four." Adom's arms trembled as he lowered his chest toward the ground, the weight on his back pressing down like a

"One thousand and eighty-four."

Adom's arms trembled as he lowered his chest toward the ground, the weight on his back pressing down like a small mountain. Sweat dripped from his forehead, forming a growing puddle on the stone floor of the training room.

"One thousand and eighty-five."

His muscles screamed in protest. Every fiber in his shoulders, chest, and arms felt like it was on fire. The half a ton of draconite metal strapped to his back might as well have been the weight of the world itself.

"One thousand and eighty-six."

This was it. His previous record. His arms shook violently as he pushed himself up, fighting against gravity and the heaviest metal known to exist. His breathing came in ragged gasps.

He tried to lower himself again for eighty-seven.

His arms gave out halfway down.

For a moment, he hung there, suspended between success and failure, his body trembling with exhaustion. Every instinct told him to collapse, to let the weight win, to accept that this was his limit.

But he'd been at this for five years. Five years of pushing his body beyond what any reasonable person would consider possible. Five years of turning himself into something that was hardly human anymore.

He wasn't stopping at his old record.

With a sound that was half growl, half desperate gasp, Adom forced his arms to extend. Slowly. Agonizingly. His entire body shook with the effort, but he completed the rep.

"One thousand and eighty-seven."

The moment he finished, Adom rolled sideways, letting the massive weight slide off his back and crash to the floor with a sound like thunder. He sprawled on the cool stone, gasping for air, his chest heaving like he'd just run a marathon.

His new record.

A familiar chime echoed in his mind, followed by the appearance of a translucent window .

[Primordial Body has reached Level 2!]

[Benefits Unlocked:]
[Accelerated Healing: Minor injuries heal 300% faster]
[Enhanced Recovery: Stamina regeneration increased by 250%]
[Increased Durability: Resistance to physical damage improved by 200%]
[Superior Strength: Base physical strength increased by 50%]
[Heightened Reflexes: Reaction time decreased by 40%]

Adom grinned despite his exhaustion.

All these years of relentless training in every conceivable category—strength, speed, endurance, flexibility, balance, coordination.

The system's requirements for advancing [Primordial Body] were, to put it mildly, ridiculous. It wasn't enough to be strong. You had to be strong and fast and tough and agile and everything else, all at the same time, all pushed to inhuman levels.

He'd grown considerably during those five years. Not just in muscle mass—though that was obvious enough—but in every measurable aspect of physical capability. He was faster than most people could track with their eyes, more reactive than a startled cat, and strong enough to apparently do push-ups with a literal half a ton of draconite on his back.

At this point, calling himself human was being generous.

Most people he knew wouldn't last thirty seconds in a fight with him. And when he enhanced his already considerable abilities with the Fluid aspect of Axis, he was approaching his father's level in pure physical combat.

Speaking of which...

As if summoned by his thoughts, Arthur's voice drifted across the training yard.

"Ada, you can't climb on my sword arm while I'm trying to block Bennu's aerial maneuvers."

"But Father, I'm helping! I'm making you stronger by adding weight!"

"That's not how training works, sweetheart."

Adom pushed himself up on his elbows and looked toward the far end of the garden.

His father stood in the middle of what appeared to be the world's most chaotic combat drill. Ada had wrapped herself around his left arm, refusing to let go despite Arthur's gentle attempts to dislodge her. Bennu was perched on his right shoulder, wings spread for balance as Arthur moved through what looked like modified sword forms. And Zuni sat proudly atop Arthur's head like a living helmet, his quills flattened to avoid poking anyone.

"I still don't understand the objective," Bennu was saying, his voice carrying clearly across the yard. "Are we training Arthur, or is Arthur training us?"

"Yes," Arthur replied .

Ada giggled. "Father, you're being silly again."

"Well, when you have this many training partners at once, the objectives tend to blur together."

Adom watched his father execute a perfectly balanced pivot despite having roughly thirty pounds of family members attached to various parts of his body. The man's core strength was genuinely ridiculous.

"Father," Adom called out, pushing himself to his feet. "I'd like to try again."

Arthur paused mid-form, turning to look at his son. His gaze took in the sweat-soaked training clothes, the draconite weight lying beside the impact crater it had made in the garden floor, and Adom's slightly unsteady stance.

"Sure," he said simply.

"Alright, everyone off for a minute." Arthur began the delicate process of extracting himself from his various passengers.

Bennu hopped from his shoulder to the ground with easy grace, but his golden eyes were bright with curiosity. "What are you going to do?"

"They're going to fight!" Ada announced before Arthur could answer, finally releasing her death grip on his arm. "Father is the strongest person in the whole world, and Adom is the second strongest, and Father has been training Adom to be the strongest too, so they can be the strongest together!"

Bennu's head tilted with fascination. "You fight each other? For training purposes?"

"Combat practice," Arthur clarified, rolling his shoulders now that he was finally unencumbered. "Controlled sparring."

"Whoa," Bennu breathed. "And Ada says you're the strongest in the world?"

"Father can beat anyone!"

Arthur laughed, stroking a giggling Ada's head vigorously.

Adom was still catching his breath, but there was something in his stance that made Arthur's expression grow more serious.

"Why are you so confident when you were panting like a winded horse just a few seconds ago?" Arthur asked.

"Hit a new threshold," Adom said, straightening up. "Want to test it without magic."

Arthur's eyebrows rose slightly. "No magic at all?" He asked.

"Pure physical combat."

Arthur considered this for a moment, then smiled.

"Make it three rounds then," he said.

"Agreed."

Arthur gestured toward a patch of grass near the garden's edge. "Kids, go sit and watch the spectacle. This should be educational."

Ada clapped her hands together and immediately ran toward the designated viewing area. Bennu followed more slowly, his gaze moving between Adom and Arthur with obvious fascination.

"Is this normal behavior for human families?" he asked Zuni as they settled onto the grass.

Perfectly normal for this family, Zuni replied.

"How exciting," Bennu murmured, his eyes bright with anticipation.

Arthur walked to the center of the training area and stopped about ten feet from Adom, rolling his shoulders once more.

"Come at me whenever you're ready," he said, his tone still carrying that cheerful edge. "And use your Fluid. I want to see what that new threshold looks like."

Arthur took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then exhaled slowly.

The change was immediate and dramatic. Bright orange energy erupted across his entire body like he'd been doused in liquid fire. The Fluid clung to his skin, his clothes, outlining every muscle and making him look like a human torch. Even his hair seemed to catch the glow, flickering with inner light.

Adom watched the transformation with the kind of focus he usually reserved for studying complex magical theorems.

There was an unofficial ranking among the top thirty Star Knights in the Empire.

Out of them all, his father—the former commander of the Iron Wolves—held the number nine position. Which sounded modest until you understood what Star Knights actually were: the only fully human, non-mage warriors who could rival mages of equivalent power.

That alone said everything about their prowess.

The grade itself was only acquired after crossing a specific threshold of physical and mental capability, but even among Star Knights, the differences were vast. The number of stars on their chestplates determined their level within the order. Gale would have probably been a two stars. Same for the Northking.

Nothing Adom couldn't handle now. Even without magic. Rather easily.

The highest decorated Star Knight was a man named Magnus Kane, who bore fifty stars and had recently been named General of the Army.

Arthur wore forty stars at the height of his career

He was still in his peak.

Adom had been having regular spars with his father for the past five years. One hundred and four spars, to be exact. He'd never won. Not once, in pure physical combat. As a mage, the liberal use of magic was often enough to tip the scales against lesser opponents.

But when facing people like Arthur, like Magnus, you needed to know how to fight without relying on spells. Otherwise, you'd need to be a very, very good mage, and maybe have a transport crystal ready for emergency evacuation.

But today felt different. Today, Adom could feel it—the certainty that he could finally surpass his father.

"Come on, son," Arthur said, settling into a relaxed fighting stance. "Show me what you've got."

Adom breathed in, then released his own energy.

White flames flowed across his body, the manifestation of pure Axis responding to his will. He used [Flow Prediction].

Immediately, Arthur's body language became an open book. The micro-adjustments in his stance, the slight tension in his left shoulder, the way his weight shifted almost imperceptibly to his right foot. Adom could read it all, predicting which limb would move next, how Arthur would react to his approach.

His plan crystallized instantly. Close the distance fast, attack the legs, disrupt Arthur's balance, get him on the ground. Once his father's back hit the dirt, it would be over.

Adom lunged forward, tunnel vision narrowing his focus to nothing but the space between them and the perfect execution of his strategy.

There was contact. There was motion.

Which was why Adom had absolutely no idea how he'd ended up flat on his back, staring at the sky, with Arthur standing calmly above him.

"What," Adom said to the clouds, "just happened?"

Arthur's cheerful voice drifted down from somewhere above his field of vision. "You got overconfident in your new toy."

Adom blinked several times, trying to process the gap between what he'd planned and what had apparently occurred. " I saw exactly what you were going to do."

"I'm sure you did. Right up until I didn't do it."

From the sidelines, Ada's voice rang out with obvious delight. "Father wins round one!"

Bennu's voice joined hers, bright with fascination. "That was incredible! I couldn't even follow what happened!"

Most entertaining, Zuni added.

Arthur extended a hand to help Adom up. "The problem with reading people's movements," he said as he pulled his son to his feet, "is that experienced fighters know how to lie with their body language."

"You deliberately fed me false tells," Adom realized.

"Every single one." Arthur's grin was almost apologetic. "Your prediction skill is impressive son, but it only works if your opponent is being honest about their intentions."

Adom dusted himself off, already analyzing what had gone wrong. "So round two, I assume you're not going to be quite so accommodating with your body language?"

"Round two," Arthur said, settling back into his stance, "I'll try not to make it quite so obvious."

Adom pushed himself up, his mind racing. Fighting Arthur felt exactly like that encounter with the spider six years ago in that dungeon.

The creature had been able to predict his movements and adapt instantly. Without magic to level the playing field, this made Arthur a genuinely fearsome opponent for anyone.

For round two, Adom decided to be smarter about it.

He circled left, feinting a direct approach before suddenly shifting right. Arthur tracked the movement easily, but Adom was already pivoting again, trying to force his father to commit to a defensive position that would leave an opening.

Arthur didn't take the bait.

Instead, he stepped into Adom's next feint, closing the distance before Adom could react. A perfectly timed elbow strike toward his ribs forced Adom to block, which left him open for the follow-up—a textbook hip throw that sent him sailing through the air in a graceful arc.

He hit the ground hard, but this time he laughed.

"That was clean enough," Arthur said, offering his hand again. "I probably would have killed anyone who wasn't you."

There had been a moment during the exchange where Adom had felt his father's full strength pressing against him, an overwhelming sense of controlled power that reminded him suddenly of something Sam had said once about father strength being a real phenomenon. For just an instant, despite everything he'd accomplished, despite his training and his magic and his accumulated experience, he'd felt like a boy again.

Arthur was far from weak. Even to him.

"Round three?" Arthur asked, his tone still cheerful but with an edge of genuine competitiveness now.

"Round three," Adom agreed.

This time, he abandoned any pretense of reading Arthur's movements. Instead, he focused on misdirection. He threw a wild haymaker that was obviously intended to miss, then used Arthur's defensive reaction to slip inside his guard. When Arthur moved to counter, Adom was already dropping low, sweeping at his father's planted leg while simultaneously driving his shoulder into Arthur's hip.

For a split second, it worked. Arthur's balance wavered, his weight shifting backward as Adom's momentum carried them both toward the ground.

Adom could taste victory. Less than a second more and Arthur's back would hit the dirt.

That's when Arthur did something that defied several laws of physics.

Instead of falling backward, he twisted his entire body mid-air, using raw brute strength to redirect both their momentum. His hands caught Adom around the waist, and suddenly Adom wasn't driving his father to the ground—he was being launched skyward like a human projectile.

He found himself hanging in the air, roughly ten feet off the ground, staring down at his father with complete bewilderment.

What the actual hell?

"You lose," Arthur called up to him, still grinning. "You're using magic."

Adom looked around at the empty air supporting him, realized he'd unconsciously activated a levitation spell the moment he'd felt himself leaving the ground, and sighed.

"Could you not let me win just a little bit?" he called down.

Arthur laughed. "Of the two of us, you're the old man here. In fact, you should probably be going easy on me."

From the sidelines, Ada's voice rang out with confusion. "What does that mean?"

"Do you not see how he behaves like an old man?" Arthur asked, gesturing up at Adom with theatrical emphasis. "Always so serious, always planning three steps ahead, complaining about his back after training sessions..."

Ada's face lit up with sudden understanding. "Oh! Yes! Brother is always grumpy in the mornings and he makes those sounds when he sits down!"

"Exactly," Arthur said with satisfaction.

Bennu's head tilted with what looked like amusement. "He does seem to carry himself with the weight of considerable experience."

Indeed, Zuni added from his spot on the grass. The mental equivalent of years tends to manifest in one's physical mannerisms.

Adom lowered himself to the ground, dispelling the levitation magic with a rueful shake of his head. "I do not make sounds when I sit down."

"You do," Ada said. "It's like a little 'oof' sound. And you rub your temples when you're thinking really hard, just like Mother does."

"That's... observational skills," Adom protested weakly.

"That's old man behavior," Arthur corrected cheerfully. "But don't worry. It suits you."

Bennu settled more comfortably on Adom's shoulder. "I find it rather distinguished, actually. Very wise and thoughtful."

"See?" Arthur said. "Even Bennu thinks you're an old soul."

"Alright, you win," Adom said finally.

"Did you expect anything different?" Arthur asked, but his tone was warm. "You're getting better, though. That last combination was genuinely impressive. Most people wouldn't have gotten me off balance at all."

"Most people aren't carrying around your genetic material," Adom pointed out.

"True. But you're more of a mage than a knight. This fight would have gone very defferently if you were fighting with magic. Without, I'd say you are close to a twenty stars."

Ada looked back and forth between them with the expression of someone who was only following about half the conversation but was enjoying it anyway. "So Adom is an old man in a young person's body?"

"Something like that," Arthur said.

"That's very weird," Ada announced.

Adom reached over and ruffled Ada's hair with deliberate enthusiasm. "You're the weird one."

"I am not!" Ada protested, laughing as she tried to duck away from his hand. "You're the one who makes old man noises and acts all serious all the time!"

"That's not weird, that's dignified."

"That's weird," Ada insisted, still giggling as she attempted to fix her thoroughly mussed hair.

Arthur cleared his throat. "Speaking of being serious and dignified, don't you have your first day at the Academy today?"

Adom paused mid-hair-ruffle. "Oh. Right."

"You should probably get ready for that," Arthur continued. "And leave early. First impressions are important."

"When I was a student at Xerkes, we loved it when professors arrived late," Adom said absently. "Or better yet, not at all. Meant we could leave early."

"Well, you're not a student anymore. You're the professor."

"Right. Different perspective entirely." Adom straightened up, already mentally shifting gears. "I should go wash up and get ready."

Before he could take more than two steps, Bennu hopped directly into his path with the determined air of someone about to make a final negotiation attempt.

"I've been thinking," the phoenix began.

"Is that so?"

"Yes. About today's arrangements."

"We've been through this, Bennu."

"But consider the educational value! I could observe human academic institutions firsthand, compare them to draconic learning methods—"

"Ben, you need to learn changeling magic first," Adom said firmly. "It's a natural skill for phoenixes, dragons, demons, and Umbra. Without it, you can't go out in public without attracting exactly the kind of attention we're trying to avoid in these troubled times."

Bennu's feathers drooped slightly. "But I could stay very still and quiet. No one would even notice me."

"You're a phoenix. People notice phoenixes. That's rather the point of being a legendary magical being."

"I suppose," Bennu sighed dramatically. "But changeling magic is so tedious. All that focus on reshaping one's essential form..."

"Essential for not starting riots," Adom pointed out. "I'll be back this afternoon, and we can continue your lessons then."

With that settled—or at least postponed—Adom headed inside to prepare for his first day as Professor Adom Sylla.

The hot water felt incredible against his still-aching muscles as he washed away the sweat from his training session. He'd pushed his body harder this morning than he had in months, and while the new [Primordial Body] benefits would help with recovery, he could still feel the pleasant burn of thoroughly worked muscles.

As he scrubbed, his mind wandered to the larger picture of what today represented.

After graduating from the Academy and applying for the position of Archmage at the Magisterium, he'd entered into what was essentially an elaborate three-year competition. Ten candidates total, each racing to accumulate as many credits as possible before the final deadline. Which happened to be the end of the current Archmage's mandate.

The credit system was elegantly designed, really.

Academic achievements, published research, successful magical innovations, contributions to the Empire's magical infrastructure, training the next generation of mages, missions for the Empire, dungeon conquests, military achievements—all of it translated into a numerical score that theoretically measured a candidate's worthiness for the highest magical office in the Empire.

Of course, credits weren't everything.

The final selection process was more nuanced than a simple tally. The Council of Mages would evaluate each candidate's character, their adherence to magical law, their history of service, their vision for the future of magical practice in the Empire. They'd also scrutinize any hint of heretical thinking or dangerous experimentation.

The voting system itself was weighted carefully.

The current Archmage's endorsement carried the most influence—roughly thirty percent of the total decision. The six Senior Mages– commonly called Magistrates –held forty percent total among them. The twelve Junior Council members split twenty percent among them. And the Emperor himself held the remaining ten percent, though that was largely ceremonial.

He was no mage, after all. His input was more about ensuring the chosen candidate could work effectively with the crown than about evaluating magical competency.

Still, credits mattered enormously.

They were the objective measure that justified the subjective evaluations. A candidate with significantly fewer credits would need overwhelmingly positive character assessments to compensate. And a candidate with the most credits would need to have done something truly egregious to be passed over.

Which meant Adom's position at the Academy was more than just a teaching job.

Every student he successfully trained, every research project he published, every innovation he brought to magical education, every mission he completed for the Empire, every dungeon he helped conquer—all of it would contribute to his final score.

He'd spent his previous life accumulating knowledge. Now he needed to accumulate proof that he could use that knowledge effectively.

Good thing he had a plan for that.