I loaded the Mysticism panel.

Chapter 140 Hunter Reserve

The door to the activity room was ajar, and it was more lively than usual inside.

This was the last practice day of the semester, and almost all the active members of the club were present.

It's always like this on practice days; people who usually only come to hit the sandbag also come over to watch the fun.

The mats in the activity room were pushed against the wall, leaving an area about four meters square in the middle.

When Richard arrived, Warren was already there, munching on half an energy bar.

"Who's playing against whom today?" Richard sat down next to him.

"I don't know, Frazier hasn't finished yet," Warren mumbled, chewing on an energy bar.

Richard glanced at the people around him.

The fighting club has about ten regular members, and eight of them arrived today.

Most of them were upperclassmen, and although they were only seventeen or eighteen years old, they all had broad shoulders and thick waists from training.

Richard stood in the group, and his physique was among the smallest.

Although he has made significant progress in the past two weeks of training, the gap is still clearly visible compared to those who have been training for several years.

His gaze swept across the crowd and landed on the military academy student standing against the wall.

The man leaned against the wall, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

Richard quietly activated his psychic vision.

It leaves little trace; at most, it's just a "glance".

The result was that nothing was found.

There were no traces of ether on the military academy students.

Richard frowned slightly.

According to the criteria Mr. Hutton told him, there are only two possibilities if one cannot sense the other party's ether.

One possibility is that the opponent's rank is far superior to one's own, so strong that they can completely "invisible" to one at the level of perception.

Greenwood suddenly appears as a master, and even specially transfers over wearing a military academy uniform?

The possibility of that is even lower than the possibility that he will find out when he gets home tonight that Evelyn is Hecate.

Conversely, the other party is an ordinary person who doesn't possess any ether at all.

Yet these traces of physical training clearly point to a hunter system...

Frazier then clapped his hands twice, drawing everyone's attention to that point.

"Who wants to participate in today's sparring session?"

"I'll do it."

The sound came from the direction closest to the wall.

The military academy student straightened up from the wall and took two steps toward the center of the field.

Frazier glanced at him: "Coleman, who are you going to fight?"

The cadet's gaze passed over Frazier's shoulder and landed on Richard.

"Williams, wanna play a game?"

The activity room fell silent for a moment.

Warren almost dropped the energy bar from his mouth.

Frazier turned to look at Richard, then turned back to look at Coleman.

Are you sure?

Coleman is widely recognized as the strongest person in the fighting club.

Richard had only been in the fighting club for two weeks, hadn't even seriously hit the punching bag more than a few times, and had only just started using ten-pound dumbbells.

The two of them standing together looked like an adult hunting dog and a puppy that had just been weaned.

"OK," Coleman replied briefly.

Frazier frowned slightly.

He turned to Richard: "Williams, what do you say?"

All eyes turned to them.

A few older students in the corner exchanged glances, their faces showing the kind of "the show is about to begin" expression.

Richard's presence in the fighting club has been rather subtle these past two weeks.

On the one hand, he was the principal's darling, a runner-up in the Cicero Cup, and a prominent figure in the entire school.

No one dared to openly bully him; on his first day, Frazier gave him the privilege of "using the equipment as he pleased."

On the other hand, his physical fitness was the worst among this group.

This contrast meant that while the members of the fighting club were outwardly polite, their secret laughter and banter never ceased.

Richard glanced at Coleman.

The military cadets' gazes remained fixed on him, their eyes showing neither provocation nor contempt.

This person isn't here to cause trouble.

Coleman's lips moved slightly, silently making the shape.

Richard understood what the other person meant.

"Use Ether, play seriously."

His heart skipped a beat.

Ether? Is it really from the mystical side?

"I can." He stood up.

Frazier glanced at the two men and hesitated for a moment.

"Coleman, take it easy," he said to the cadet in a low voice.

Coleman nodded.

Frazier stepped back to the edge of the court and raised his stopwatch.

"Three minutes per round, stop when you've made a point. No hitting in the face, no kicking in the groin, no choking. Stop when you hear the whistle."

Richard walked to the center of the field and stood face to face with Coleman.

The two were about three meters apart.

Coleman was already in position.

Left foot forward, right foot back, center of gravity slightly lowered.

Raise both hands to chin height, with the knuckles facing inward and the elbows close to the ribs.

The standard fighting stance.

Richard also struck a pose and silently began operating the ether.

Since they've already told me to get serious, I'd be a fool not to.

His stance was much more relaxed than Coleman's, with his hands raised to chest height, his center of gravity centered, and his feet parallel.

Several older students nearby had already started chuckling.

"That stance...is he going to fight or dance?"

"I bet a penny that I'll knock you down on the first punch."

"I bet two pence he won't last ten seconds."

The bets were being exchanged rapidly in the corner.

Frazier pretended not to hear, but was already prepared to intervene.

The newly recruited top student will be punched so hard his nose bleeds, and he'll have to write a self-criticism to the principal for the entire following year.

His left foot had already quietly moved forward half a step, ready to rush in and pull the person away at any moment.

The whistle blew, and Coleman moved.

His close-range speed was extremely fast; he pushed off the ground with his front foot, and his whole body was launched like a spring.

Three meters away, they were pressed close in less than a second.

The left fist slashed upwards from below, targeting Richard's ribs.

Richard's body began to react before the fist even arrived.

The enhanced senses, amplified by the ether, dissected the other person's movements into slow motion.

He shifted half a step to the right, and Coleman's left fist grazed past his ribs.

Someone in the audience exclaimed "Huh?"

The older student who was betting on "falling on the first punch" froze in his smile.

Coleman's eyes lit up.

He didn't retract his fist; instead, his left fist grazed past and transformed into an elbow strike, the tip of his elbow sweeping horizontally toward Richard's chest.

The fist becomes an elbow, shortening the distance and increasing the speed.

Richard was unable to dodge completely this time.

He crossed his arms to protect his chest, and his elbows hit the outside of his forearms.

boom!

A muffled thud.

Richard was knocked back a step, and his right arm went numb from his elbow to his wrist.

"what?"

A louder sound came from the audience.

As everyone expected, Richard should have collapsed to the ground, or at the very least, rolled over in the mat.

But he only took a step back, clearly managing to withstand the force.

Coleman's offensive did not stop.

After the elbow strike, a right fist swiped up from the other side, targeting the abdomen.

Richard didn't dodge this time.

—Stone Armor - Localized Reinforcement

He raised his left hand from his side, palm facing outward.

The moment his palm and fist made contact, Coleman's expression changed.

His fist slammed into a stone wall.

A fist without the aether bonus hitting concentrated armor is like hitting a rock, the hardest kind of granite.

The impact was bounced back intact.

He took a step back, his right hand hanging at his side, his fingers trembling slightly.

The activity room fell silent instantly.

The older students who were exchanging glances in the corner just moments ago now stared wide-eyed, none of them able to respond for a moment.

Fraser's hand, which was holding the watch, froze in mid-air.

He instinctively turned his gaze to Warren in the corner, who knew the newcomer better than he did.

But the tall, strong boy's reaction confused him even more.

The second energy bar that the guy was chewing on had fallen to his knees, and crumbs were scattered all over his pants.

"Fraser." Coleman turned around.

"Huh? What's wrong?"

"I give up, I can't fight anymore." He raised his right hand to show Frazier.

Frazier went over and took a look, his expression changing drastically.

"Your hand..."

"His fists are harder than most people's," Coleman replied succinctly.

How hard?

Coleman thought for a moment and found a comparison.

"Harder than the tiles I've broken before."

Henry was the first to break down.

"Williams..." His voice drifted, "Are you hiding something in your hand?"

As soon as he spoke, the eyes of several older students also turned to him.

Richard didn't answer immediately, but Coleman spoke first.

"Henry, I watched him shake off the gloves and put them on."

"He didn't have a chance to stuff anything in."

Coleman placed his injured hand on his knee and added:

"Moreover, if something is stuffed inside the glove, the person being punched will only be more seriously injured."

Henry opened his mouth, but couldn't find a way to refute it.

Frazier then added, "I did the pre-match checks myself."

There's nothing there.

The older students watching looked at each other in bewilderment.

Parker walked over, picked up Richard's right hand, and glanced at it.

There were no abnormalities on the back of my hand; my skin, pores, and nails were all normal.

"How did you train?" Parker asked.

"Use dumbbells."

"...You can't develop a fist like that even with fifty-pound dumbbells."

"I don't know either."

Parker shook his head and lowered his hand.

Henry hesitated for a long time before finally speaking.

"...Mr. Williams, will you be coming for training again next time?"

Richard almost lost his footing when he heard this title.

Frazier burst into laughter.

"Henry, who are you calling 'sir'?"

"I...I just..." Henry's face flushed red. "I just...said it off."

Coleman's expression twitched; he was clearly trying to suppress a laugh.

Fraser patted Coleman on the shoulder.

"Go sit in the corner, I'll get you some ice."

Coleman nodded and sat down in the corner.

He paused briefly as he passed Richard.

"Thanks."

"...What are you thanking me for?" Richard asked.

"Thank you for playing so hard."

Coleman finished speaking and left, sitting in a corner and quietly waiting for Fraser to get him an ice pack.

Richard stood on the mat and turned his gaze away from Coleman's retreating figure.

In the activity room, everyone's gaze towards him changed.

All the superiority complex hidden in his eyes, the half-mocking expression, and the interest in seeing how long you could last... all disappeared.

Warren jumped up from the mat and took three steps to Richard.

"You just now..." he said in a low voice, his eyes wide, "How did you do that?"

"Good angle."

"What a terrible angle!" Warren's voice almost rose in anger, but he quickly suppressed it:

"I took that punch from Coleman. Let me tell you, that guy's punches are like hammers. My ribs hurt for days afterward."

"You caught his punch with your palm, and his hand swelled up, but your hand was perfectly fine?"

Richard spread out his left hand for Warren to see.

My palms were clean, without even a red mark.

Warren stared at the hand for several seconds before finally managing to stammer, "...You didn't actually perform some kind of miracle at the Cicero Cup, did you?"

"no."

"That's really weird."