As Venessa and Justin stepped into the ring, the energy around the gym shifted. Other trainees glanced over, sensing the tension, the unspoken rivalry—both were top-tier among their peers, and everyone knew it.
Daniel, however, wasn't focused on the crowd. He sat a little distance away, elbows resting on his knees, eyes narrowed.
"Let's test this out…" he murmured under his breath, activating his newly awakened skill: Observation Eye.
The moment the match began, Daniel's vision sharpened. It was as if time itself had slowed for him. He saw Justin shift his weight to the left, his shoulder tensing—a punch was coming from that direction.
Exactly one second later, the punch was thrown.
Daniel's eyes widened. "...No way," he whispered, a flicker of excitement dancing in his chest.
He kept watching. Venessa twisted her stance, ducked, and countered with a leg sweep. Again, Daniel saw it coming before it happened—his mind registering the move even before her body completed it.
It wasn't just anticipation. It was like watching the future unfold a moment early.
"I can almost read their movements… if I focus hard enough," he thought, a grin tugging at his lips. "But... damn, it's stressful. Feels like my brain's overheating."
Still, he didn't stop. The match in the ring became his mental training ground, his eyes scanning, reading, memorizing every movement like a machine.
A few minutes later, Ren and Rex entered the second ring. They didn't need an audience—they were chaos incarnate. Punches flew, kicks clashed, and within seconds, the two were throwing insults louder than their fists.
Daniel didn't join them. He casually laid back on the bench, one leg propped up, sipping on a chilled strawberry juice like he was watching a weekend action flick.
Justin walked over during a short break, sweat lining his forehead. "You're not gonna train?" he asked, brows slightly furrowed.
Daniel looked up at him with a lazy smile. "Not interested."
Justin exhaled sharply. "You know you're only holding yourself back by doing this."
Daniel took another sip, clearly unbothered. "Yeah... I know."
There was no guilt in his tone, no urgency. He had his own way of learning. And right now, that way meant using his mind more than his fists.
Just as the group was winding down from sparring, the gym's atmosphere shifted again—this time darker, heavier. The main cast's rival team had arrived, led by none other than Peter Johnson, the self-declared powerhouse of the academy.
His voice rang out across the space like a challenge, loud enough for everyone to hear:
"Once trash, always trash."
Daniel didn't even blink. He understood perfectly well who that comment was aimed at. He glanced at Peter lazily from his spot on the bench, not even bothering to sit up.
With a smirk, he replied in the most casual tone imaginable, "Nice to know you know yourself so well."
A few of the trainees nearby stifled laughter.
Peter scoffed, "All talk, that's all you've got."
Daniel's smirk widened. "Well, everyone knows brains beat brawn."
Peter chuckled and stepped closer, eyes narrowing. "Says the guy who's got neither."
Daniel didn't flinch. He tilted his head slightly and drawled, "Son, raise a dog, raise a cat, but never—never raise false hopes."
Peter's face twisted with anger. "You think you're clever? Let's see how much your clever brain's worth when I crush it with muscle."
He took a step forward, fists tightening, ready to throw hands.
Daniel? Still lying back on the bench, arms behind his head, completely unbothered.
Justin immediately stepped between them. "Peter, cool it!"
Peter jabbed a finger toward Daniel. "Tell your friend to get in the ring if he's got even a little courage!"
And with that, Peter turned and strode toward the sparring ring, cracking his knuckles.
All eyes shifted to Daniel.
He let out a long, drawn-out yawn, then muttered without even opening his eyes:
"I don't fight weak fighters."
And just like that, he yawned again and fell asleep right there on the bench.
The room was dead silent for a second—then a mix of gasps and chuckles spread through the gym.
Even Venessa covered her mouth, trying not to laugh.
Peter, already in the ring, stood fuming.
And Daniel? He was already dreaming, like nothing had ever happened.
---
As Peter stood fuming in the ring, Justin calmly stepped in to spar with him. The crowd shifted focus once more, eyes trained on the clash between brawn and strategy.
Meanwhile, Daniel slowly opened one eye, then the other. His nap had been brief but satisfying. As he sat up, he noticed Alia standing a short distance away, watching the match with her usual unreadable expression.
Never one to miss an opportunity, Daniel rose from the bench, stretched lazily, and slid next to her.
"Alia, darling…" he said with a grin, his voice laced with mischief.
Alia turned toward him sharply, eyes narrowed. "Don't call me darling."
"Sure," Daniel said smoothly. "Then… Alia, babe."
Her glare intensified. "Just Alia."
Daniel chuckled. "Okay, okay. Miss Sorry-Just-Alia. I actually wanted to ask you something… about the other day. When the Asura attack happened."
Alia's expression shifted, just slightly. "What about it?"
Daniel tilted his head, his gaze sharpening. "You guys… knew the Asuras were going to attack that day, didn't you?"
Her eyes widened for a split second. "What are you talking about? We didn't—"
"Uh-huh." Daniel cut in with a knowing smile. "That reaction just confirmed it."
Alia quickly composed herself. "You're imagining things. That's not true."
Daniel gave a low, amused laugh. "Oh, right. I must've been hearing things then. Probably just some weird ringing in my ears when I heard your group talking outside the academy—'There's going to be an attack at the museum, we need to warn them.' Ring any bells? I was right behind you guys. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but hey… I heard everything."
Alia tensed.
"At first," Daniel continued, "I thought you were just being dramatic. But then… the museum really did get attacked. Coincidence? Maybe. Or maybe not." He leaned a little closer, eyes locked onto hers. "What do you think, Alia?"
She met his gaze calmly, but there was a flicker of something beneath the surface—guilt, perhaps? Or defiance?
"So what if we did?" she finally said.
Daniel raised an eyebrow. "I just want to know… how?"
Alia turned her face away slightly and replied flatly, "I don't like telling you anything."
Daniel smirked, stepping back. "Oh, I figured as much. But don't worry... I'll find out sooner or later."
His tone was light, but his eyes—sharp as ever—hinted that he wasn't going to drop this anytime soon.
---
Daniel gave a casual shrug. "Alright then… I guess I shouldn't tell you either."
Alia narrowed her eyes slightly, curiosity getting the better of her. "Tell me what?"
Daniel flashed a sly smile, his tone teasing. "Oh, nothing much. Just… something interesting about that little museum incident. But since you don't like talking to me, I figured you wouldn't want to hear it."
Before she could respond, Daniel turned on his heel and walked away, leaving her staring after him.
He slipped on a pair of boxing gloves and headed toward the training area, where a heavy punching bag hung in one corner. Without saying a word, he began throwing slow, controlled punches—each one timed with his thoughts.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
> If I analyze the situation carefully, he mused inwardly, Alia and Justin definitely knew about the attack in advance. There are only two explanations for that—
> One, someone anonymous tipped them off. But from their expressions, their reactions… it didn't seem like they got the info from some random stranger. They took it way too seriously. That means whoever warned them, they knew and trusted.
> Which narrows it down to just a few people.
His eyes flicked over to where Justin was still in the ring, sparring with Peter. Alia, meanwhile, had crossed her arms, watching in silence, her thoughts clearly somewhere else.
> There are only three possible suspects: Justin, Alia, and Venessa.
> All three were present at the scene. And all three had the kind of personality that would compel them to be there… even if it was just for show.
Daniel's punches grew sharper, faster.
> But the one who stands out the most… is Venessa.
She wasn't around during the fight, not even close. That's unlike her. She's too direct, too bold to just stay out of something so intense unless she had a reason.
> Still… it's just a hunch. Nothing concrete yet.
With a final heavy punch, Daniel stepped back from the bag, breathing steadily, sweat beginning to form at his brow. He pulled off one glove and glanced toward the others, his mind racing beneath that calm, smirking exterior.
> Time to keep my eyes wide open. The truth always leaves a trail… you just need to know where to look.