Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School (89/?) Revised Version 1 (Patreon)

Hey everyone! So there were a few revisions that I believe should be addressed right off the bat this time around! I’ve made most edits to the strength challenges of today’s chapter, seeing as there were a few inconsistencies and details that either weren’t implemented correctly, or had managed to slip through in the original post! The most notable of which being the bench pressing aspect of this chapter’s exercises! As I had originally planned for a two-thirds victory following the sword in the stone tie-breaker, but hadn’t fully addressed the tie I’d formerly written for the bench pressing part of it in the original version! As a result of this, I’ve added that missing part of the bench pressing activity to make sure it’s definitely a loss on Emma’s part. I’ve also revised that entire section to better fit in with my overall vision of the strength portion of the challenge, as well as details regarding the weights (since sports of this sort aren’t entirely my expertise so I do apologize for issues there!), as well as how Emma eventually wins it in the tie breaker! 

I’ve also revised a bit of the javelin throw to better illustrate that section of the competition, as well as changed a few grammatical issues in the endurance section too! I sincerely do apologize for those inconsistencies, this previous week was quite a rough one following the prior two weeks where I had two exams back to back haha; especially with the shifts I took in the wards this week. Once again, I appreciate you guys taking note of the issues in this chapter, and I promise to try my best to avoid these sorts of things from happening again in the future! :D There will also be another revised version up this Saturday as per usual as I make a few tweaks here and there as I usually do! I just believe that I need to get this revised version up first to properly address these issues first and foremost! :D  

My hawkish gaze never once left Auris Ping, even as Chiska shifted her attention towards the rest of class. 

“Alright then! Let’s get everyone on the same page! First off, the basic rules!” Professor Chiska beamed out brightly. However, as the class began fixating on her unnecessarily complicated rulebook’s worth of rules and expectations, I was instead turning inward towards my partner in crime. 

“EVI?”

“Yes, Cadet Booker?”

“Initialize sports mode.” I ordered with a devious grin. 

“...”

“Unrecognized command.”

“Alright, alright. Let me rephrase that. Ahem. Initialize High Performance Manual Maneuverability Mode.” 

“Acknowledged.”

Several things started happening all at once. 

[Alert! HP-MM Mode Active.]

First, there was a slight, but noticeable shift in my HUD. Which changed from the typical MIL-HUD on standby mode, to one more resembling what you’d find in the cockpit of a high-performance racing rig. 

[Specify performance parameters.]

Next, came the absolute maze of customizability options, with nested menus and all sorts of virtual sliders, toggles, and raw numbers to toy around with.

“Preset values? Smart Auto-Adjustment? Or manual value settings?” The EVI quickly chimed in, really living up to the virtual assistant part of its mission specs. 

“Preset, personal list, FROM-1.”

“Accessing FROM-1 [FREE RANGE OF MOTION PRESET 1]. Alert: This preset value is not rated for combat or active mission profiles.”

“I know. But this isn’t combat nor an active mission. It’s a contest. And I want it to be as fair as I can manage. I’m more than happy to unleash the full might of technology on Auris when competing with him on a magical playing field. But when it comes to just contests of dumb muscle? I’m not the one to just cheat.”

“... Acknowledged. Applying FROM-1 values.”

My body was immediately met with something it was spared from for most of the week — resistance. As I felt my joints stiffen, my muscles tighten, and the indescribable smoothness of movement that came with exoskeleton-enhanced powered movement, suddenly replaced with the familiarity of partially-powered exercises.

Something that both Captain Li and I absolutely loathed, but that was necessary to ensure I didn’t become too accustomed to having the suit move for me, instead of with me. 

The suit was now operating just above the threshold where the armor’s weight would become an encumbrance, assisting me just enough that my movements were for all intents and purposes, as close to unassisted and unarmored as possible. 

In short, the armor was neither inhibiting or enhancing my movements now. 

This was raw human power, up against what Chiska promised to be raw alien power. 

[Alert! Exoskeleton undervolting detected in servo groups, 1, 2, 3, 4—]

“Deactivate notifications.”

“Acknowledged. System alert summary: all motor systems operating at minimal assistance. Alert: Minimal assistance threshold reached. Operator now responsible for unassisted ROM.”

“Good! That’s the intent. Now, just be sure to override my settings if something goes wrong or something goes haywire. I’m fair, but not bullheaded and dumb.” 

“Acknowledged.”

“Now, let’s warm up.” 

What followed was a series of movements that came surprisingly naturally, as the armor twisted and bent in places that looked like it shouldn’t to the outside observer. So much so that quite a few were distracted from Chiska’s long-winded explanations, with their focus shifted almost entirely to me.

Though it was clear I wasn’t alone in this endeavor, as a small handful of other students seemed to have started their own warmups.

Thalmin, Qiv, and even Auris Ping of all people started their own little routines, either jumping in place, stretching, or performing a whole host of acrobatics in anticipation of what was to come.

Chiska, nodding approvingly at this, continued on unabated.  

“You are to go as far as you can, as fast as you can, at the pace you wish to set for yourselves! I will not be babysitting you for you all should be able to handle a simple run! Aim to last as long as you can, however! This is as much a test about how you handle yourselves without magic, as much as it is about your physical potential! Remember though, this is not a race!” The professor paused, before turning towards both Auris and I. “For the rest of you, that is. In which case, let us begin shall we?” 

A single hand was raised from amidst the crowd, as Ilunor stared lazily at the professor, his arms crossed and his gaze filled with disinterest. “Professor, if I may?”

“Yes, Lord Rularia!”

“Will this exercise count towards our core evaluation?” 

“Unfortunately not, Lord Rularia.” The professor answered with narrowed eyes and heightened suspicion. “It will, however, count towards your grades as a whole.” 

“Thank you, professor.” Was Ilunor’s only response, as I questioned just what his angle was here, especially with his outfit consisting of riding boots and a stereotypically posh jockey getup that looked completely inappropriate for running with.

“Are there any more questions?” The professor turned to the rest of class with a bright smile, her excitement seemingly untempered by Ilunor’s strange and out-of-left-field question.

Not a single soul responded, with almost everyone’s eyes either firmly fixated towards their own lane, or each other. 

Fingers twitched. 

Bodies flinched.

And those students who had ears to emote with or tails to swish with, either stiffened up or double-downed on their movements.  

“Alright then!” She spoke with finality, eliciting sharpened exhales and unsteady breaths.

“Ready!” 

She raised her hand high. 

“Steady!” 

Her fingers contorted, poised for a snap. 

“Go!” 

ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 100% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS

A loud, thunderous, SNAP, erupted from between her fingers.

At which point, all hell broke loose. 

And mistakes were quickly made. 

One, after another, would-be sprinters and one-hundred-meter-dashers began zooming right off of the starting line.

My racing HUD, and its sports-mode reticles, began highlighting the positions of each of these students, as the EVI began playing the role of sports commentator and situational announcer — giving me a picture-in-picture view of the positions of all the students, their names, and their current speed and trajectory. 

It was like having one of those live animation feeds of racers in a circuit up next to a sports broadcast. 

Except instead of watching it from home… I was in the thick of it. 

Several names started passing me by. Most I had no relation with, some that I vaguely recognized from the post-class meetups, like Cynthis, and many more that I had a bit more acquaintance with. 

Etholin.

Gumigo.

And the entirety of the crocodile-person’s peer group for that matter, began absolutely smoking me. 

As the distance between all of them, and a good chunk of the class, began climbing.

5 meters.

10 meters.

20 meters.

50 meters.

Eventually, despite my steady pace, some even reached the coveted 100 meters in front of me, completing their hundred meter dash and attaining victory over the foolish newrealmer!

Or at least, that would have been the case… if this were a 100 meter dash.

Things quickly took a turn for the worst following that point.

As legs started to wobble. 

Arms started to flail.

Tails began swaying this way and that as those students that had committed to the wrong competition began to drop like flies.

THWUMP!

Down went the first student, a smaller, round orb of a mammal. 

FWEEEEE! 

A whistle sounded quickly after, as Chiska magically materialized right next to the student, and began the back and forth that would lead to their voluntary removal from the race.

“Ready to withdraw, Lord Grila?”

“Y-yes p-professor.” He huffed out, prompting the EVI to quickly scroll through the massive list of students on our screen, crossing out number 23 off the list.

[Competitor No. 23 has been eliminated]

“Poor choice of words, EVI.” I muttered out under a completely unstrained breath, keeping my eyes forward, and completely ignoring my own place in the race.

“Note to Operator: redundant verbal communication from human operator will result in overall decreased aerobic capacity. Mission commander is advised to keep redundant verbal communication to a minimum to maximize probability of mission completion.”

“Okay, Aunty.” I chided back.

THWUMP!

Just as another student crumpled over into a pathetic pile of noble meat.

As if on cue, the feline professor arrived, her tail swishing every which way. “Ready to withdraw, Lady Ladona?” 

“Mmm… yes professor.” The butterfly muttered out, prompting the EVI to strike yet another name from the list. 

[Competitor No. 45 has been eliminated]

This would be a recurring pattern now, as I began jogging past the points in which these would-be dashers had fallen. As more—

[Competitor No. 47 has been eliminated]

—and more—

[Competitor No. 53 has been eliminated]

—and more—

[Competitor No. 77 has been eliminated]

—of my competition started falling to the wayside.

I pressed on unabated, maintaining a steady, casual, almost unbothered pace as I passed by gasping, heaving, and worn-out nobles; each one of them dropping like flies around me. 

Soon enough, we started arriving at names that I recognized. 

As Etholin was the first acquaintance to fall.

To his credit though, the ferret didn’t just crumple up into a ball. Instead, he wound himself down, taking heavy breaths as he did so, prompting the professor to pull out some sort of a magical implement to tap his chest with.

“Are you feeling okay, Lord Esila?”

“Y-yes professor. But… I would like to withdraw from this activity now please.” He spoke softly, prompting the professor to whisk him away back to the bleachers.

[Attention: Approaching half-way point; five-hundred meters.]

By the time we’d reached the half-way mark, about half of the participants had either tapped out or crumpled into a heap.

Gumigo, surprisingly, had recovered from his mistakes and had begun pacing himself. Though sadly, that wouldn’t last for long.

As he too succumbed to the error of his ambitions.

Though he wouldn’t be without his compatriots. As an increasing number of students began withdrawing near the three-quarters mark, each of them slowing down gradually, all of them huffing up a storm; barely any of them even physically cognizant by the time I’d casually made my way past them. 

The EVI, of course, was more than happy to list each and every one of the fallen. 

By the time the next hundred meter stretch was done, just over a handful of people were left in the ‘race’. 

Two fell just before the three-quarters mark.

Thacea falling quickly after.

It was around this point, as we rounded the corner, that I realized that out of our peer group, only Thalmin and I remained.

Which prompted the question…

Just where was Ilunor?

The answer to that question came as quickly as it arose, as we finally reached the first lap and approached the starting line.

…

The Vunerian had never even left.

Moreover, about a quarter of the class had refused to even participate. 

To add insult to injury however, Ilunor had somehow manifested a folding chair and a table out of thin air, sitting atop of it and enjoying what I could only describe as a full afternoon tea set.  

Rostario sat opposite of him, as they began pointing their dainty binoculars at us as we passed them.

“I do not see the reason why you went through the effort of setting up for tea, Lord Rularia. This whole charade should be over in less than a few more laps!” The hamster spoke first, taking a sip of his tea as he did so.

“Intuition, my fair fellow. Intuition. Intuition and faith. That is, unless you think less of your group’s master — Lord Qiv Ratom?” Ilunor replied with a snide grin, just as we ran past them, and another student pulled out from the race.

[Attention: Lap One Complete; one-thousand meters.]

This left only four of us remaining.

With Qiv in the lead.

Auris right behind him.

Thalmin just short of Auris.

And me smack dab last. 

All of them had settled into their own pace. 

But I wasn’t the least bit bothered by being last. 

This was a test of endurance after all.

And everyone had just bet against the very species evolved to do exactly that. 

So while the rest of the remaining competition started hitting their second wall, I was just starting to hit my stride.

“EVI.” 

“Yes, Cadet Booker?”

“Get my playlist going — hifi beats to jog to.” 

“Acknowledged.”

The tempo of the music helped to ground my pace even further. 

As I slowly, but surely, reached a pace that Aunty Ran, Captain Li, and practically everyone else I knew that either did PT or any sort of fitness collectively referred to as — cruise mode.

I found my body falling into its own rhythms of movement, interrupted only by the occasional alert from the EVI and the faltering of my opponents. 

[Attention: Lap Two Complete; two-thousand meters.]

Qiv dropped out at just around the two-thousand meter mark. Our eyes locked, and for the first time, the armor’s ‘expression’ more or less matched my own. As those dazed and exhausted reptilian pupils unknowingly made contact with a set of nonplussed human eyes beneath the lenses. 

Time slowed to a crawl at the moment I passed the gorn-like lizard, his expressive gaze going through so many emotions packed into a single look of what I could only describe as tentative disbelief. 

Auris took the ‘lead’ by this point, a smug laugh erupting from his maw as he celebrated the defeat of his mortal enemy… only to look back to find another following closely behind.

At exactly the same spot.

And exactly the same pace. 

With little to no hint at either slowing down or speeding up.

This seemed to manage to stir something within him, as I could practically see his hairs standing on edge, and his muzzle curling to a look of shock.

He snapped his head back almost immediately as he laid eyes on me, as I managed to just about catch his pupils dilating as my unabating presence seemed to stir something within him. 

The reaction seemed to please Thalmin if his cackle was any indication, but it was clear that the wolf didn’t have much left in the race either, as he began panting up a storm. 

This prediction proved to be true as the second lap drew to a close, and the third song on my playlist hit its climax.

[Attention: Lap Three Complete; three-thousand meters.]

The lupinor had slowed down considerably by this point, having sacrificed second place for third.

But, surprisingly, he still remained in the race. His eyes beckoned something of a friendly competitive rivalry as he pushed through what was clearly his limits in an attempt to stay in the race for as long as possible.

That spirit of tenacity burned brightly within the warrior wolf.

Which was more than I could say for Auris who seemed to burn through what little reserves he had by this point. 

As his legs began to wobble.

His tail began to swish hard.

And his breaths became increasingly more erratic, air practically bellowing out his nose like the enraged bull he was.

HUFF HUFF HUFF

There wasn’t much left in him, and I was barely on my fifth song.

The man slowed down as we reached halfway through the third lap, going on the fourth. 

And owing to his exhaustion, or perhaps anxious anticipation, he quickly shot his head back, probably in hopes of seeing an empty track, or at best, one inhabited solely by Thalmin.

Those hopes, as seen through his expressive eyes, were dashed the moment he saw me; still in the same track, still in the same pace, still exactly ten meters behind him as I had been since the start of the race.

My fifth song ended right about then.

The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. The Hall of Champions. Local Time: 1000

Auris

That armor should have slowed her down.

The distances involved should have kept her at bay.

Something should have yielded by now.

Instead, she remained steadfast.

Her speed was unnaturally consistent.

Her pacing was impossibly steady.

And her gait… was insultingly relaxed.

My chest burned as I struggled to draw breath, all the while the newrealmer’s helmet betrayed nary a hint of a breath. 

This fact, when coupled with the unnatural abyss that was her manaless enclosure, beckoned the likeness of a monster by any other name.

A monster that simply did not tire in its pursuit. 

She was the embodiment of the eternal hunter. 

A myth told to children by their mothers in times before Nexian enlightenment. 

But I would not give in to the unholiness that was the creatures of the dark, especially those of insidious intent. 

So I struggled on, persevering… with only my faith in the guidance of the eternal truths to keep my mind centered. My body be damned, the spirit and the will of his eternal majesty will see me through to the end.

I would only look forward from now on, refusing to acknowledge the monster that trailed behind me. 

I would outlast it.

I had to.

The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. The Hall of Champions. Local Time: 1000

Emma

“Evil was what they wrote on my hospital forms, while the nurses were too busy amputating my horns.” I hummed along with the seventh song on my playlist, just as a beep clued me into the next milestone of the marathon. 

[Attention: Lap Four Complete; four-thousand meters.]

I found myself simply zoning out in my own lane now, going at my own pace, vibing, and thriving. 

Time seemed to be a distant thought now as I just went about my own business, occasionally noting Thalmin’s crawl behind me, and Auris’ increasingly frantic expressions in front of me.

The man was clearly trying his best not to turn around.

But it was clear he just couldn’t help it. As every ten meters or so he craned his head back just to look, his expressions becoming more frantic with each successive check.

This eventually came to a head just as we reached the halfway marker however, as ragged breaths and worn-out huffs gave way to a slump of a slowdown. 

I overtook him at almost exactly four-thousand five hundred meters, and just like with Qiv before him, we exchanged a split-second glance. 

As I could now see not just contempt or scorn but outright anxiousness in the bull’s eyes. 

A look of genuine disbelief. 

A look of complete befuddlement. 

A look of someone who’d not just been smoked, but trounced through as little effort as an afternoon jog. 

Something that my body and its morphology was literally evolved to do, in order to get the better of beasts like Ping. 

It was just extra icing on the cake that the current song had ended with the lyrics: “And that’s what it takes! Walking ten miles while your enemy runs one!” 

Thalmin followed almost immediately after Ping, making it clear that he was more or less waiting to beat the bull, as he’d since reached his limits long before this point.

This left just me as the sole runner on this massive one-hundred lane track.

But whilst all eyes were seemingly waiting on me to stop, I merely continued. I saw no reason to stop now that I was in full swing, and while I could feel tiredness and exhaustion finally creeping up to me, it wasn’t like I was out of breath or sweating up a storm.

So I continued.

As a hundred meters became, two, then three, before giving way to four, five, and eventually an entire full lap. 

[Attention: Lap Five Complete; five-thousand meters.]

A look of collective disbelief was shared amongst the entirety of the crowd.

Both Ilunor and Rostarion continued to watch, the latter’s eyes practically locked onto my movements, whilst the former enjoyed consuming an entire tray’s worth of snacks; stuffing his face full without the hamster even looking. “Vunerian intuition strikes again.” He muttered out following a gulp of tea, shooting the hamster a smarmy cocksure grin that he chose to ignore. 

“Cadet Emma Booker.” A voice suddenly shook me out of my reverie as I saw Chiska now jogging next to me. “There is nothing left to prove, you have won this first challenge.”

“Oh, I wasn’t really hoping to prove anything, professor. I just… didn’t know where to stop, really.” I managed out in between breaths, sounding just barely winded, and causing some concern to manifest on the professor’s face. 

“And when were you planning to stop if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I guess when I started feeling, like, really tired I guess?”

The professor cocked her head at that. “And how long do you expect that to take?”

“An hour? Maybe two or thereabouts?” I offered politely, which caused the professor’s eyes to narrow slightly. 

“Can you truly sustain such a pace without the aid of magic?”

“I was trained to do so, professor.” I answered candidly.

“I would like to see a demonstration of that then.” The professor offered with a wide, fangy grin. “However, I am afraid we will need to schedule that for another time. Time is of the essence, after all, and I would rather we move forward.”

“As you wish, professor.” I acknowledged, slowing down incrementally until I finally found myself back at the starting line, facing a crowd who greeted me not with cheers or chants, but with wide-eyed glares and the occasional gasp. 

Ilunor’s tea party seemed to have become a social gathering by that point, which garnered more than enough whispers at the behest of the talkative duo. 

“She’s a beast.”

“Beast or not, she bested Lord Ping. Quite a tragedy for our dear and devout peer.”

“All the more reason why I believe him to be an inappropriate candidate for the Class Sovereign. Lord Ratom has demonstrated far more restraint when handling this newrealmer.”

“You say restraint, I see weakness and acquiescence.”

“Well, I see a bunch of slackers sitting about in physical education!” Chiska chimed in, clearly listening in to the crowd as she returned with what appeared to be a set of unknown objects hidden under brown leather tarps.

The very same mystery artifices we saw being transported from Sorecar’s workshop just last night.

“Cadet Emma Booker! I officially crown you victor of the endurance trials in the magically unenhanced portion of today’s activities!” She beamed brightly, gesturing towards what appeared to be a late 19th, early 20th century baseball scoreboard at the very end of the stadium. One that now had my name proudly placed next to the list of ‘victors’ in the first category of today’s four trials.

“Right then! Let’s not muck about! I present to you, the strength segment of today’s unaugmented challenges!” 

Three gargoyles removed the covers in rapid succession, revealing two relatively common strength-based sports.

A javelin throw, and a series of weight-lifting benches.

The third, however, was what I could only describe as…

“Ah, is the sword-in-the-stone challenge uncommon in your realm, Cadet Emma Booker?” Chiska preemptively asked, pointing at the Arthurian setup.

A sword… with its hilt sticking out of a massive rock.

“Well… yes and no, professor.” I managed out with a huffy chuckle. “I guess you could say these sorts of things are… the stuff of legends.” 

Chiska only managed a few curious blinks in response to that non-answer. Which prompted me to quickly elaborate. “It’s been a while since the last sword in the stone challenge is what I meant.” I chuckled out nervously. “So, a brief refresher might help!” 

“Well it’s rather simple, really! All you have to do—” She paused, leaping towards the stone in a summersault. “—is to grab the hilt of the sword like this.” She held the sword with both hands firmly, her feet awkwardly positioned at the side of the rock. “And just… PULL!” The feline heaved, giving it her all as a heavy breath punctuated the start of that pull, and the dramatic dislodging of it from its mythical confines; rays of light bouncing off of its metal surface. “There! As simple as grab, and pull! No magic involved!” 

“Are there any questions?” She reiterated, placing the sword back into the stone.

There were none.

Moreover, the professor took the time to eventually explain the basics of the three other trials.

The javelin throw boiled down to distance. “The furthest throw wins!” 

The weight lifting bench, boiled down to, well… weight. “Heaviest weight capable of being lifted wins!”

“Since the strength portion consists of three individual challenges, the Rite of Challenges states that the challenger must clear at least two out of the three individual challenges to qualify for a total victory of the strength segment of today's activities!"

No questions were posed for either of these exercises either.

And so, the trials began.

The next challenge however proved to be very, very well suited for the ancient ancestor in me.

Despite not necessarily having trained in throwing javelins of all things, I at least had familiarity with throwing things in my PT regimen. Grenades, being an obvious element of that training. 

More students decided to join this particular activity, perhaps being lulled into a false sense of confidence by how deceptively simple this whole thing looked.

They couldn’t have been less wrong however.

As the first student, Airit the bat, of all people, stepped up to the plate with her winged-arm poised for a throw. 

She took a confident breath, rearing back with javelin in hand, before lobbing it forwards.

…

It barely cleared the barrier. 

“Two and a half meters!” Chiska announced with glee, and to her credit, remaining entirely upbeat all the while. 

A part of me wondered if this would become a pattern.

“Three meters!” 

It did.

As throw—

“Three and a half meters!” 

—after throw—

“Two and a half meters!” 

—after throw—

“Four meters!” 

—after throw—

Resulted in rather embarrassing results.

Most students managed an average of about 3-4 meters.

However, once again, it was Qiv, Thalmin, and Ping that managed to break away from averages.

The former achieved an impressive 12 meters.

Thalmin managed 22. 

And Ping? Well, he managed to replicate Thalmin’s throw. A solid 22 meters.

I decided to participate last, grabbing the javelin with a sense of strange familiarity.

I knew I wouldn’t be able to break any world records, not without the suit at least.

And so, with a solid breath, I began running, getting a few steps in before absolutely launching that pointy stick with as much force as my upper body could manage.

“Thirty point two meters!” Chiska announced, clapping her hands against the backdrop of a hundred sighs. 

It wasn’t world-record breaking, not even half-way. 

But it was enough to smash the class right out of the water.

The next challenge however, was one that worried me greatly.

Weight lifting. Or more accurately, bench-pressing. 

Auris… looked built for this sort of thing.

Which meant that between both of us, only ten students dared to even take those tentative steps towards the weights.

Most of them barely got ten kilograms in.

Gumigo and Qiv topped at about twenty-five kilograms.

Thalmin, despite his best efforts, got around seventy kilograms.

This left Auris and I to battle it out. As the weights increased back and forth. 

From ten, to fifteen, to twenty… and reaching my absolute limits, seventy-five. 

Auris kept pressing on however, pushing past into ninety. 

Against my better judgment, I kept pressing on, matching his ninety with my own.

The man didn’t seem the least bit bothered, pushing into one-hundred. 

I matched his one-hundred, and felt my arms barely able to take it.

At which point, the man seemed to lose all patience, deciding to gun it into the one-hundred and ten range.

I didn’t know whether it was my own foolishness or my desire to win, but I agreed to match it.

This was a mistake.

But it was a mistake that the EVI seemed to take notice of.

[Temporary override of FROM-1 Settings. Returning to fully compensated mode.]

I quickly found my arms lifting the entirety of the weights, matching the bull’s, and tying with him for the weight lifting competition. 

[Returning to FROM-1 Settings.]

“What the heck was that about, EVI?”

“Potential injury to operator noted. You outlined that I should intervene if I detect potential harm being incurred.”

“Ugh. Fine! I’ll be more precise with my wording nex time. Anyways, next trial, don’t stop me..”

“Acknowledged.”

I took a deep breath, stepping off of the benches in an attempt to address the discrepancy. “Professor, I would like to redo the—”

However, before I could finish my sentence, the bull went back in, yelling for more weights from the awaiting gargoyles who complied promptly.

The weights were set to one-hundred and twenty-five kilograms. 

The man pressed them with great effort, managing to see it through.

“Cadet Emma Booker, do you wish to match Lord Ping’s standing record?” Chiska asked, gesturing towards my bench and the awaiting weights.

“No, professor. I concede this round to Lord Ping.” 

The professor nodded, and upon a gentle urging to the bull, she eventually placed herself in between us, wrapping her two arms around both of our shoulders. “The strength challenges currently stand at a tie! With Cadet Emma Booker holding a victory over the javelin throws, and Lord Auris Ping holding a victory over weights! The sword in the stone shall prove as the tie-breaker for the strength challenges! So have at it!” The feline beamed brightly, gesturing towards the sword in question.

A sword… that was currently being fought between Ilunor and Rostarion, who each attempted to tug and pull at it ineffectually to the tune of a series of yammerings.

“I shall prove myself superior!”

“No, I shall!” 

The pair seemed to be in the midst of some scuffle, with Chiska eventually calling it a complete draw.

As neither of them managed to pull the sword out more than a centimeter out of its housing.

Most of the students, at the very least, fared somewhat better.

With the class averaging a good ten centimeters before giving in.

Thalmin, once again to his credit, managed a good thirty-five centimeters.

Auris, reaching for the sword, pulled and lifted to the point where I could see his cheeks going red and his eyes following suit.

The man managed a good fifty centimeters before flopping to the ground in a heap of beef.

This left me as the last student standing, accompanied by none other than the indomitable human spirit, alongside the human tenacity for being disproportionately decent at upper body strength.

I used both to my advantage.

As I pulled, feeling the sheer suction that kept the thing firmly wedged in there. I began using my legs following that, pushing hard against the rock as I maneuvered myself in as many awkward positions as I could, taking up around twenty repositioning attempts until I finally caved, realizing I’d reached my hard limits for the sword-pull.

With gnawing anxiety and a gut-wrenching wait — which Chiska seemed to utterly enjoy — the professor took her time in examining the sword’s length, savoring the tension that hung in the air.

“Hmm.” She began with a mischievous grin only a cat could manage.

“Fifty-nine centimeters. Congratulations Cadet Emma Booker, I hereby declare you winner of the strength based challenges for the magically unaugmented portion of today’s activities! Now I do declare that all of you take a break, because in thirty-minutes, we shall begin the magic-based portion of our activities.”