The Unvanquished: Child of Nihility-Chapter 84: Tyler’s resolved

Chapter 84: Tyler’s resolved – (You struggle. Bleed. Push your limits in the name of survival and order. But tell me–has it freed you)

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Northern Cadet Region – UCv1, Villa 06 – Brian Magnus’s Villa

Hahaha!

Laughter cracked through the room like thunder.

Inside Villa 06’s living-room, Brian Magnus tossed aside his wrist device and kicked the table, slamming himself into the couch as he roared.

"AHAHA! Now that is a welcome punch!"

He grabbed a fizzy liquor bottle, downed half in one gulp, and laughed again.

"A first-year trashing a second-year like that? That’s what I call dominor. I was wondering if our entrance was too low-key... but now someone’s helped us ring the bell. Morca–well done. I’ll give you that. But it’s still not enough. If it were me–I’d have carved him slow. Bit by bit. Hahaha! No mercy!"

Across from him, Max Magnus sat with his arms folded, spine straight, and eyes still. Unlike the unrestrained Brian, Max was different; every one of his moves was calculated, and measured.

’Damn you. Taking on a second-year? Reckless bastard.’

He watched Brian spin his fingers, mimicking a dozen blade motions in the air.

’I really need to keep an eye on you,’ Max thought quietly. He was Brian’s Life-Blade. Guarding him was the rule.

He tapped his own device. Morca’s name lit up again.

’But that guy... he’s not normal. He’s beyond it. In fact, those three who top the rank... they’re not normal either,’ he muttered inwardly, already thinking ahead.

A rare smile curved his lips.

’They’ll never know it wasn’t only those three... hehehe.’ 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

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Northern Cadet Region – UCv2, Villa 02

Aloin Vireth (2nd-Year Unique Class) ranks 2nd place among the second-year cadets in the top 70 of the monument tower.

Inside a dimly lit villa lined with emerald energy glove, Aloin Vireth sat on a silent hoverchair. Legs crossed. Fingers lazily tracing sigils in the air.

The room was hushed.

His wrist device hovered at eye level. The public feed flickered–displaying the clash between the Thorn Division and the one now lingering in everyone’s mind.

He watched. Said nothing.

Then finally:

"Morca Sherman... that’s no prodigy. That’s a threat to the old ladder."

He leaned back and opened Monument Tower progression charts. Pages flipped by mental command.

"I’ll observe for now. But if the Thorn Division fumbles again..."

His finger twitched.

"...Then maybe I’ll test those rumors myself."

Similar things happened throughout the academy’s four classes (elementary, elite, exceptional, and unique class cadets); some were in awe while others were secretly planning, except for a minimal few, and Jack Voidspace was one of the few.

He didn’t even keep track of the academy news, much less Morca’s display of strength. Even if he knew, I doubt he will react

As for Laura Morca’s bond, she was nowhere to be found. Whether she knew or not, we will find out in tomorrow’s class...

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Inside Villa No. 12 – UCv1, Tyler Sherman’s villa.

The personal white training room was dimly lit, the overhead glowstones pulsing faintly like a slowed heartbeat. The metallic walls bore the marks of recent strikes, and the pushing dummy in the center was riddled with impact scars.

Tyler stood with both fists clenched at her sides, sweat trailing down her temple, soaking the edge of her collar. Her breathing was steady but strained – the kind of exhaustion that came from desperation, not discipline.

She had been training relentlessly since returning from the cafeteria.

Her gaze drifted downward to her trembling knuckles. "Damn it..."

’Change is constant... I guess that’s what defines everyone.’

The words rang again through her mind, calm but piercing. Morca’s voice.

She lifted her head, eyes narrowing as her body finally stilled. The ache in her limbs didn’t matter.

"Morca..." she muttered under her breath, her voice trembling slightly, not from weakness – but resolve. "Believe it or not... I will always stand beside you. No one else."

Her hand rose slowly to her chest, fingers pressing lightly as if to still her own heartbeat.

"And I will become stronger."

The lights flickered.

And in the far corner of the room, just beyond the range of motion sensors, the darkness moved.

Tyler’s breath caught as a faint metallic whir pulsed into the silence.

A silent figure slipped through the training chamber’s reinforced metal door without triggering the intrude alert bell, which should’ve been impossible–this was one of the most secure places outside the Central Zone, directly linked to the EDA surveillance system.

A soft breeze brushed her face. She raised her guard, senses flaring as she scanned the room. But nothing stood out. Everything was still. Too still.

’It must be my imagination... or I’ve lost my calm,’ she thought.

From the shadows, a figure emerged–cloaked in black robes. Beneath the folds, smooth curves of matte exotech plating glinted faintly–a suit designed for silent war, not casual presence.

’She didn’t sense me? Makes sense, considering her level...’ the figure thought. And then–

"How can you become stronger... when you’re walking that pathetic path they call supernatural?" A woman’s voice–distorted, yet disturbingly clear–slipped from beneath the hood.

Tyler spun instinctively, eyes wide, dropping into a guarded stance. Sweat clung to her brow, now turned cold.

"Who are you...?"

No answer. Just the soft hum of exotech–the sound of judgment.

The lights flickered again, stabilizing into a sterile glow.

’How did she enter without triggering the alarm? Is she an instructor, or...’ The thought fragmented into unease.

The figure stepped fully into view–not from a door, but from the shadows themselves. Her robe whispered against the floor, glowing seams of violet pulse beneath sleek black plating. She moved like a glitch breaking space.

No haste. No threat.

Tyler didn’t move.

The woman walked to the center of the room, pausing before the battered dummy. The air pressed inward like gravity deepened.

She raised a hand. As it neared the dummy’s chest, a soft hum stirred the air.

Fzzmmm.

A pulse of milky-white energy burst from her palm–silent and flawless.

The dummy didn’t crack. It didn’t burn.

It vanished.

Erased. As if it had never been there.

Tyler’s breath froze.

That dummy wasn’t normal–it was EDA-grade, built from rere-metal, monster core plating, and mana crystal mesh. Designed to endure direct hits from Great Sage rank combatants.

It was supposed to last five days of combat. This was day one.

And now–there wasn’t even dust.

"What... what did you just do?" she asked, voice shaking.

A ghost emerging from shadow. A technique that defied logic. No sign of entry. Now this. No sane person could ignore the threat.

Still no answer.

Silence wrapped around Tyler like chains. Her heart beat faster. She didn’t reach for her weapon–not juset out of fear, but uncertainty. As if it’s normal not to unshelter her weapon in the presence of this woman.

Then the woman tilted her head slightly, revealing just the edge of her face beneath the hood.

Her voice was steady. Detached.

"This," she said, raising her glowing hand again, "is called true power."

Her tone wasn’t mocking. Just... sure.

"The kind your so-called supernatural path can never give you. Not in three years. Not in a decade."

Tyler’s eyes narrowed. No hatred. Just a presence too heavy to measure.

"You struggle. Bleed. Push your limits in the name of survival and order. But tell me–has it freed you?"

The question echoed louder than the power itself.

"I–"

Before Tyler could finish, the woman turned fully and made her way at leisurely pace toward the terminal wall as if every corner of the training chamber is her domain.

A faint click echoed as a compartment hissed open, revealing a slim, flat black panel that looked like both paper and metal–etched with intricate silver lines.

She pulled it out and turned back. "No, right?" she asked, then continued as if confirming her own suspicion. "If I’m right, that means you’re not on the right path yet. Something deep within you... is still missing."

She extended the black panel, shaped more like an envelope, the silver lines pulsing along its surface. It looked more like advanced tech than paper–flat, refined, and encrypted. A small section near the top edge bore the shape of a fingerprint reader, seamlessly fused into the envelope’s structure.

"This," she said again, holding the tech-envelope toward Tyler, "is from your mother."

Tyler blinked. Her breath caught.

"My... mother?"

The woman didn’t speak further. She simply held the envelope steady, waiting. But even then, a strange energy flickered faintly across her exotech shoulder plating, pulsing in sync with her heartbeat.

Tyler stepped forward with caution, emotions tangled–suspicion, confusion, disbelief. She reached out and took the envelope with both hands.

The woman neither moved nor vanished. She just stood there, still and silent, watching–as if studying whether the flame she saw was worthy of being stoked or snuffed out.

And in that moment, Tyler understood: This wasn’t just a delivery.

It was a warning.

Her eyes lowered to the object in her hands. The tech-envelope felt heavier than it should have–not in mass, but in meaning. A deep breath filled her lungs before slowly easing out.