Reincarnated In A World Of Mana As A Mechanic-Chapter 46: Taking The Training Wheels Off
"Are you guys ready? Yea? We’ll start then." Monica Ross’ cheerful and crisp voice rang out, following which the students felt a wave of mana seep into their clothes before a sudden weight suddenly acted upon their bodies.
It was then the students realized that their uniforms also served as training gear. But their professor barely gave them any time to adjust before she commanded.
"Run. You are to run till I tell you to stop."
At this point, the students had already judged the woman before them to be a crazy one who was obviously deriving entertainment from their suffering. They wished to stand up to this battle-crazed maniac and complain about the training arrangements, but they could all instinctively tell that she was counting on their complaints.
And that whoever did step up would have quite a bit of suffering to go through. So none of them did, nobody wished to become the scapegoat after all.
Thus, though inwardly dissatisfied, the students sucked up their terrible moods and began running.
The Mages and Seers had it the worst. The uniforms were designed to release a pressure that was close to the limit of the scanned body they were donned on, so, although they were awakened, they had already been drenched in their steps by their hundredth step.
Forgers were relatively okay. Their Class required them to possess a relatively powerful body, allowing them to last longer than the Mana-centric Classes, yet not as long as the Brawlers. But what they had learnt from their previous lessons was that there was a high chance for the longest lasting student to receive institute points as a reward.
Plus they figured that, since the uniforms were calibrated to release a different level of pressure determined by the owner’s physique, the Brawlers would be finding it as difficult as them to hold on.
They were wrong. Brawlers trained their bodies with the continuous battering of mana, it hardened their bodies and also trained them for scenarios like this. Especially Brawlers without Talents who would place extra emphasis on their training.
The Brawlers were able to adapt despite the mounting pressure that sought to crash them into the ground. The non-Brawler Class Awakened found themselves shivering with fright as they heard the continuous booms emanating from the Brawlers as their feet struck the ground.
Ezekiel’s situation could be said to be in the middle of Brawlers and Forgers. As a Mechanic who spent time in the workshop, not to mention he always made sure to exercise every day, he was able to more easily cope with the pressure inflicted upon him by his uniform better than the Mages and Seers.
And as the unique possessor of his system, which allowed him to increase his stats without the specific training done by other Brawlers, he was also doing better than the Forgers but a bit worse than the Brawlers.
Ezekiel looked around the training arena, calculating the distance. The field was roughly two hundred meters across, making the perimeter about seven hundred meters per lap. Not particularly challenging under normal circumstances, but something in Professor Ross’s predatory smile suggested this wouldn’t be a normal circumstances kind of situation.
He was right.
He could barely react when several training constructs rose from hidden compartments all around the field. They looked like simplified humanoid figures armed with weapons—clubs, staff, and what appeared to be magical projectile launchers.
The mechanic cursed as he smashed into a construct before falling to the ground. He quickly recovered his balance though, straining his muscles as he resisted the weight acting on him while he forced himself back on his feet and continued his run.
"These lovely assistants will be providing... motivation... during your run. Nothing that will cause permanent damage, mind you, but I guarantee you’ll feel it if you’re not paying attention." Professor Ross’ voice soon reached them even while they ran. "You have to make sure you are able to pay full attention to your surroundings even during a high intensity fight after all. Any hidden teammate of your enemy could, quite possibly, jump out of nowhere to launch a sneak attack on you."
A noble-looking student having endured enough shouted back even while he performed pathetic dodges. "Professor, is this really necessary for magical education?"
"Magical education?" Professor Ross’s laugh was sharp and cold. "Young man, magic without physical conditioning and battlefield awareness is just expensive suicide with extra steps. Your mana might be impressive, but it won’t help you if you’re too tired to cast or too distracted to aim."
Ezekiel found that her explanation made sense even if it was obvious to anyone that she was enjoying his or her ridiculous display. He was sure that if popcorn existed in Taia, Monica Ross would sit on a chair and gobble them down in excitement as she watched her students prance around like newly born monkeys.
What followed was a chaotic run. The constructs attacked at random intervals, forcing the students to dodge, weave, and occasionally leap over obstacles while maintaining their running speed. Some attacks were obvious—slow, telegraphed swings that any alert student could avoid. Others were subtle and fast, requiring split-second reactions.
Most students were able to cope with the attacks, enduring past the initial chaos and making sure to avoid their fellow classmates even while dodging the construct’s attacks.
The mechanic was, surprisingly, one of the students who did quite poorly against the constructs’ attacks. He had realized quite early that he was too dependent on Laura’s input when faced against attacks that were too fast for him to consciously determine the best action to take.
As the saying went, better late than never. In the end, he decided to have her withhold her input and face the constructs’ attacks on his own, with the aim to train his instincts and subconscious decision making.
The difference was immediate and humbling. On the very next attack—a staff thrust aimed at his midsection—Ezekiel reacted a split second too late. The padded weapon caught him in the ribs, not hard enough to cause injury but definitely hard enough to make him stumble.
He suffered due to his decision of course. His untrained instincts allowed his face and body to gain a premium ticket to the surfaces of the padded bats and fists used by the constructs, earning no small amount of bruises.
Ezekiel took several more hits. Each one was a lesson that taught him the wild gap between technological assistance and his natural ability. His enhanced physical capabilities meant he could still avoid most attacks, but his timing was off, his awareness limited to what his own senses could provide.
It hurt a lot, but it worked. The rate at which Ezekiel’s dodges perfected themselves gradually improved as the run continued. It was a small improvement but it was an improvement nonetheless.
Other students were having their own struggles. Edward and some other Mages, predictably, were trying to use magical shields to block attacks—a strategy that worked until Professor Ross increased the constructs’ power levels enough to overwhelm his defenses, causing them no small amount of physical pain.
"Shields are tools, not crutches!" She called out as Edward stumbled, his magical barrier shattered by a particularly aggressive construct. "What happens when your mana runs out?"
The silver-haired girl from his previous classes—as he expected—was handling the exercise with impressive efficiency, her enhanced physical abilities allowing her to power through attacks she couldn’t dodge entirely.
The run continued until the mechanic’s muscles finally couldn’t handle the high intensity training anymore. Ezekiel, having fully submerged himself into his training, was quite surprised and confused when he suddenly felt a sudden weakness that caused him to fall to the ground, unable to move a single limb.
Moving his neck around—the only movable part of his body—, he was surprised to see that many other students were like him, having collapsed onto the ground, panting heavily as if their life depended on it.
The moment the last student, the silver haired girl—which Ezekiel found unsurprising—fell to the ground, exhausted like the rest of them, Professor Monica Ross moved to the center of the field with a smile. "Most of you did great work. Combat isn’t a classroom exercise. It’s messy, exhausting, and unpredictable. You need to be able to think clearly when you’re tired, react quickly when you’re surprised, and maintain your composure when everything is going wrong.
"I’ll let you guys have 30 minutes to rest, after that the Mages and Seers will separate from here to begin their training in Facility B."
The rest of the minutes passed by like a blur to Ezekiel, leaving him and multiple other students groaning in pain and exhaustion as they were forced to stand once the thirty minutes were up.
The mages soon filed out—including several students who looked relieved to escape Professor Ross’s tender mercies—while the rest of the students revealed slightly distraught expressions as they stared fearfully at the smiling lady before them.
"Combat for non-mages is fundamentally different from magical combat." She began, her tone becoming more instructional and slightly less playful. "You can’t overwhelm your opponents with raw power, and you can’t rely on flashy spells to control the battlefield. Instead, you need to be smarter, faster, and more efficient.
"Faced against a Mage or even a fellow close ranged Awakened, the winner is decided by who has faster reaction time and is able to dish out more efficient blows. I’m going to have you guys focusing on counter strikes for now."
