Chapter 90 Are they seriously fighting
962 Words
After sending the message, Diana settled into a quiet wait.
A strange anxiety crept in. What if he said no? Though they’d only ever met online, Adam meant far more to her than just a gaming buddy.
But what if, to him, she was nothing more than a casual contact?
…Surely not.
After all, before Kenny, she’d been the only person in his phone.
---
On Adam’s end, he was ready to accept immediately.
This was the first person he’d truly connected with in this strange new world. That had to count for something.
His only hesitation? Meeting a stranger—especially an opposite-s*x stranger—in person. The potential for awkwardness was off the charts.
> Wanderer: Sure, I should be free. I’ll be there on time.
> Wanderer: Also… does that date have any special meaning?
> Icecream: Nah, nothing special! Just meet then! 😊
> Icecream: Wanna log in now? ~
Adam stared at the message, feeling oddly nostalgic.
Thanks to his relentless influence, Icecream had fully adopted his gaming slang.
“Log in” rolled off her tongue like second nature now.
In their corner of the internet, these phrases were their private code—a shared language that whispered: *We’re on the same team.*
Caught up in the moment, Adam tossed *Ice Tempest* and *Formweaving* onto his desk without a second glance… and dove straight into the game.
Which meant that by the next morning—
Levin was already on the training field before most students had arrived. His eyes locked onto Adam instantly, and he strode over without hesitation.
He clapped a massive hand on Adam’s back hard enough to rattle bones.
“Kid. How’d it go last night? With your talent, you should’ve mastered at least the basics by now. But don’t get cocky—this is just entry-level ice manipulation.”
“Show me what you’ve got. Let’s see how much power you can actually channel.”
Adam: …
“I, uh… didn’t get a chance to look at it yet.”
Levin: …
“What *exactly* was so urgent?” Adam could practically *feel* Levin’s knuckles c***k as his fist tightened.
“I was discussing combat theory with my online friend.”
“And what does that mean?”
“Climbing ranked matches in an online game.”
Levin’s blood pressure spiked. Without another word, he threw a punch straight for Adam’s face.
No warning. No restraint. Raw power coiled around his fist like a storm, veins bulging, energy roaring.
The wind screamed as it split apart.
Adam barely twisted away in time, landing three meters back.
But Levin didn’t pause. He surged forward like a black tempest, closing the distance in a heartbeat.
The entire class froze.
*What the hell just happened?!*
One second they’re chatting like mentor and student—the next, it’s a full-blown brawl?
Students from other freshman squads turned, eyes wide.
*Are they seriously fighting?!*
Before anyone could react, the two collided.
Fist met fist.
A shockwave erupted—rippling outward, knocking nearby students off balance.
Adam skidded backward; Levin pressed forward instantly.
For the first time in countless battles, Adam felt completely *outmaneuvered*. Every move he made felt reactive, like he was dancing to Levin’s rhythm.
Instinctively, both activated their abilities. Adam threw up an ice shield just in time.
What followed was a blur—too fast for ordinary eyes to track. Energy clashed midair, compressing, exploding. Every strike was surgical, brutal, elegant. This wasn’t sparring. It was a death match with the safeties on.
Other instructors nearby tensed, hands twitching, ready to intervene.
BOOM!
The final exchange sent Adam sliding backward over ten meters, boots carving deep trenches in the earth. His ice shield shattered into glittering fragments, vanishing like dying stars.
It was clear to everyone: Adam had been overwhelmed.
Yet the students weren’t disappointed—they were awestruck.
The first time Adam and Levin clashed, it had been a brief, confusing skirmish. But this? This was *art*.
Close-quarters combat—raw, visceral, explosive—ignited something primal in every onlooker.
No flashy superpower beams. No distant barrages. Just two warriors trading blows at point-blank range, each movement a lesson in lethality.
Now, Class One finally understood the chasm between them and Adam.
Even ignoring power ratings—*this* level of combat intensity? Not a single student believed they could last ten seconds.
This was skill forged in real blood, real battle. The sheer ferocity in Adam’s eyes alone made some students tremble.
“Damn, man,” Adam wheezed, rubbing his chest. “You couldn’t give a heads-up before swinging?”
Levin’s strength was no joke. That relentless assault had pushed Adam harder than any Acolyte in weeks.
“Hmph.” Levin straightened, rolling his shoulders. “Think your talent excuses laziness?”
“True potential means *more* urgency—not less. Dead geniuses aren’t geniuses. Wasted power is just noise.”
“Stop gaming with your ‘online friend’ and master those superpower skills—now.”
He flexed his fist, joints popping like gunshots.
This fight wasn’t punishment. It was a warning. A mentor’s fear for a student drifting toward complacency.
*Damn it,* Levin thought, already turning to assemble the class. *He’s too strong—even I can’t pressure him enough anymore.*
Some lessons, geniuses had to learn on their own.
“Alright,” he barked. “Tomorrow, we run a full—”
“Tomorrow—”
He stopped mid-sentence, jaw tightening. His eyes snapped to Adam.
“HEY! KID!”
“What the hell are you doing?!”
“Were you even *listening*?! You want another round?!”
Adam, utterly absorbed, was hunched over *Ice Tempest*, eyes locked on the glowing surface—completely oblivious to the world around him.
- Writer
