Martial Era: Starting With The Strongest Talent-Chapter 41: Crazy Adam

Smor called him Crazy Adam for a reason.

Back during their one-month compulsory training, Adam had earned that moniker the hard way, by doing exactly what no one else with a G-rank cultivation talent would dare.

He trained.

And trained.

And then trained more.

Adam was always the first to arrive at the dojo and the last to leave. His effort overshadowed everyone else’s, even those with actual talent.

There were plenty of other trainees with G-rank cultivation talent; it was one of the most common, after all.

Advancement was painfully slow for them. Some stayed Martial Apprentices their entire lives. With enough patience, they could still make a living, but reaching true power was nearly impossible.

Yet Adam trained like none of that mattered.

He trained like talent was irrelevant.

He trained like he was chasing something more than survival.

He trained like someone with a purpose.

That kind of zeal was infectious. It motivated the others at first, even those with G-rank talent tried to mimic his work ethic.

Those with F-rank talents felt a spark, too, though they wouldn’t admit it. But reality always hits. Humans need results. Without results, motivation dies.

And G-rank results? They were brutally disappointing. No matter how hard they pushed, their progress remained tiny and barely noticeable. Hard work did yield benefits, but only if your talent allowed you to reap them. Most trainees gave up on matching Adam’s intensity and the fire faded gradually.

Except it didn’t fade for Adam because he kept going every single day.

​To the others, it became bizarre, even wrong. They watched a boy break his body day after day. His meager progress was invisible, his essence barely increasing, his body not visibly improving.

Yet he returned each morning ready to break himself again.

They whispered among themselves.

They tried to rationalize it.

And eventually, the conclusion formed:

Adam was crazy.

Because only someone crazy would willingly endure that level of suffering for no visible gain.

Only someone crazy would challenge his limits without having the talent to back it.

Only someone crazy would keep going while everyone else quit.

And that was how the moniker, Crazy Adam stuck.

"So what are you doing here, anyway?"

In all honesty, he found Adam’s presence weird. He’d assumed Adam would be rotting away back in their old sector, or getting himself killed doing something reckless.

The idea that Adam had made it this far out into the mid-tier border region made zero sense.

Even being in this hall didn’t make sense. It was reserved for clan heirs and their entourages.

And Adam?

He was clearly neither.

"Business related," Adam replied simply.

Then he gave a tiny nod.

"It was nice catching up."

He turned and walked out of the hall without another word.

Smor watched his back, brow furrowing.

Is he crazy enough to sneak in? No... security would’ve noticed him. Maybe he’s working here as a busboy or something.

It was the only explanation that made sense to him.

"Dickson."

A smooth, authoritative female voice cut through his thoughts. Smor stiffened, turning quickly. A group approached, but his focus zeroed on the woman leading them.

He immediately bowed.

"I greet the Heiress."

A poised, mature woman with short blue hair, sunglasses, and a brown waistcoat left open to reveal a short black skirt and white crop top stopped before him.

Her entourage stood silently behind her like shadows.

"What are you doing, wandering around?"

Smor chuckled awkwardly.

"Just saw an old colleague, so I decided to say hi."

Her expression didn’t change. She studied him for a moment before saying,

"Very well. I won’t pry into your personal matters."

Smor blinked.

Personal matters? What does she think I’m doing?

"But, don’t let it distract you. We cannot come behind the Faradays in this."

Smor bowed deeply.

"I understand, Heiress."

"Good."

She turned and walked out of the hall, her entourage following. Smor following after them.

Meanwhile, Adam had already located his room.

It was nearly as comfortable as the first-class train cabin, maybe even more so. And with four days until the incursion opened, he saw no reason to do anything but rest.

He lay down on the bed, fatigue already tugging at his limbs.

"I’ve been getting tired a lot lately..." he muttered.

"Something’s definitely wrong with me."

But sleep claimed him before he could think about it any further.

When Adam opened his eyes, his breath caught in his throat. His palms were pressed against a blood-soaked floor, his back resting against a cracked wall.

His clothes were drenched in red, but none of that was what froze him in place.

It was what lay before him.

His mother.

Her lifeless body sprawled in a widening pool of blood, a knife embedded deep in her chest. Her eyes, those warm, gentle eyes, were wide open and fixed on him.

Outside the apartment, monstrous screams echoed through the ruined streets. But none dared approach the building. It was as if the stench of death itself repelled them.

Adam didn’t hear the monsters.

He didn’t register the blood on him.

He saw nothing except her corpse.

Then.

Click.

The apartment door handle turned.

Adam’s eyes jerked toward the entrance. The old door creaked open, revealing a curtain of suffocating darkness beyond. His heart hammered violently in his chest, as something stepped inside.

Adam’s body locked up. His limbs refused to move. His lips fused together as though invisible hands held them shut. Only his trembling eyes remained free.

The creature walked on two legs.

A silhouette, but not human, its form was made of shadow, absorbing every trace of light around it. Darkness clung to it like smoke. Every step consumed the floor, devouring it into nothingness.

It stopped beside his mother’s corpse.

It stared at her for a long, horrifying moment.

Then it stepped over her body and her corpse dissolved into the shadow, erased as though it had never existed.

The creature turned toward Adam.

Slowly and inevitably.

A terrified child stared back at it, because that’s what Adam’s face reflected in that moment. A powerless boy. A victim trapped in a nightmare he couldn’t escape.

The creature extended a hand toward his face—

And suddenly Adam’s mouth broke free.

"AHHHHHHHHHH!"

---

His eyes flew open.

And he was back in the hotel room.

His body was soaked in sweat. The lights were off. Night had settled outside. His chest heaved as he dragged in desperate breaths.

"What type of nightmare was that..." he whispered, rubbing both hands over his face.

"I would like to know as well."

Adam’s heart skipped, as instinct took over.

Rapid E activated in a blur as he moved, grabbed the common knife from his storage ring, and lunged off the bed.

In an instant he had an intruder pinned to the floor, the blade pressed to their throat.

"It is not nice to sneak up on people," Adam said coldly, seeing who it was.

The room fell silent, the knife gleaming inches from the manager’s neck.