Julius Chadnovski, part human and part machine, the second-in-command of the Roosevelt Fortress.
After mastering medicine and countless other arts during his time as a spy within one of the greatest cultivation sects, he reshaped his body again and again, chasing perfection.
His greatest gift was his right eye, giving him a vision that is immune to lies, illusions, and monsters that wore the skin of others.
Cain had known him as Uncle J, an eccentric mentor who treated suits like armor and taught him everything from acting and accounting to market pricing and economic trends.
Julius started his lecture by digging through his stuff, skimming his mock files, and swiping redeemable practice codes from their coupons, all without being detected.
"You don't know the enemy."
Then he'd put everything back, acting like nothing had happened.
"Unless you saw what's in their pockets."
After showing a sleight of hand trick, he let out a low chuckle and tapped the sleek band around his wrist, a silent message that sometimes, deception was the only winning move.
He taught Cain some questionable skills like gambling, stealing, and scamming. None of it was out of cruelty, but because the world rarely played fair.
"Lil chap, all this trouble would be avoided with a digital terminal."
A terminal functions as your ID, wallet, phone.
"Most of the models you'll get your hands on even had these nifty little sensors to check if your dying or not. A lovely little tool now, isn't it?"
"Now that I think about it, that one on your hand fits my wrist perfectly. Mind if I take a closer look? Let me see if it's actually pretty."
"You bollocking bastard, daring to rob this old man!"
Days passed in a blink of an eye, Julius ingrained to Cain that battles aren't won by strength alone, but by the one who crafts the plan and strikes with just enough force to succeed.
Most of all, be the instrument that swayed the crowd, not the one who gets played like a tool.
Cain's training wasn't solely with intellectuality, it was physical trial by fire.
High above the clouds, they stood at the back exhaust of the moving fortress, looking at billowing vapor and smoke, Cain had a bad feeling.
"Well now, don't be an anxious bastard. Sun's shining all around. Training is training. Why the sour face now, eh?"
Julius pulled a used yarn ball from his pocket and gave it a few tugs, but after the fifth tug it snapped right off.
Cain noticed him wording oops through reading his lips, he stepped back on instinct.
"Oi! Uncle J, stop messing around."
"Cain, my boy, it seems school isn't to your liking, eh? Ah, yet another boy bound for tragedy and woe."
The old man shook his head at the sky with mock despair, then turned without another word.
Cain shouted after him, voice cracking.
"Now, now. No need to act like an old codger, eh?"
With a cheeky smile, Julius tugged on one of the network antennas and tied the dozen meter yarn to it.
He fastened the other end around Cain's wrist. With a pulse of magicules, he launched Cain like a kite.
"Uncle J… This… This won't hold!"
A volley of rubber bullets hissed from the swarm above.The rope snapped.
Cain plummeted into the wilderness, his scream trailing into the wind.
"Uncle! J! Help! Me!"
Cain chased the walking behemoth for two days. After that, it was his bare fingers that clawed through the plating and fortifications of the Roosevelt Fortress.
From her Aunt Roberta's teaching he saw his flaws right away.
Cain began practicing Fortification and Solidification, basic spells publicly available, he never looked down on these spells.
"There's no such thing as mediocre. Even a twig can split the sea in the hands of a true sword master, right?"
The next day, they climbed up the same rear exhaust of the fortress. Julius noticed the boy was exuding confidence, striding forward with firm steps.
He was tied at the wrist and pushed off again. Before the line went taut, Cain cast fortification and solidification on the yarn, strengthening it like a titanium strand.
'I got you now, old man! Let me see that impressed face of yours.'
"Haha! Uncle J! I looked at —"
But before Cain could finish, Julius caught on fast.
The old man changed tactics. With a magic missile, he shot the rope mid-swing.
"You were what now, kid?! I didn't hear you."
He cupped a hand to his ear, then burst out laughing as Cain fell over the fortress once again.
With a grappling hook he made, he cling to the fortress like a stubborn mud.
He fought against the raging winds until the plating of the fortress came into view.
Just as Cain began to relax, inching closer to the wall, a voice barked behind him.
"Is that a stowaway!?"
He tensed, ready to fight to the death.
"Where?"
Splat!
Four paintballs struck his hand in rapid succession, forcing him to lose grip and slip from the rope.
"Oi! Oi! Isn't that lil chap! Stop firing!"
"Uncle J! You!"
This madness continued for three brutal months, with Cain darting back and forth across the fortress like a hunted rat.
Every failure earned him more chores, from washing dishes to eventually mopping the entire structure, a task that lasted nearly a week.
Julius noticed his persistence, nodding occasionally and offering small words of encouragement.
Cain pushed harder, learning spell after spell, until finally, he became desperate to test what he'd learned, hurling himself off the Roosevelt Fortress to simulate a real fall.
The staff didn't spare him a glance, fully aware he wasn't the kind of kid to be undone by such trials.
It all ended when he finally managed to solidify the magicules beneath his feet, forming his very first foothold in mid-air.
Julius smirked and gave a pat on the shoulder.
"I knew you got it in you lil chap. Not so much of a waste now, eh?"
"Not at all Uncle J, thank you."
But combat wasn't everything.
At age eleven, Cain faced the Global Primary Knowledge Exam. An initial requirement for entering any ranked academy in the world.
The exam wasn't held in schools, but in sealed environments within each examinee's home.
Candidates were required to purchase a single-use surveillance drone, which connected directly to the Trifecta Database. Even a bug crawling nearby could void the session.
With people like Julius, Arthur, and Roberta backing him, Cain knew that a single mistake could jeopardize not just his future, but theirs as well.
'I guess Uncle J was right. Exploit what you can, and do your due diligence where you can't.'
Subjects included calculus, vector math, and optimization theory, alongside physics modules on multi-force systems and applied mechanics. The geopolitics section focused on military treaties, battlefield logistics, and cybersecurity.
After three days of nonstop machine-led evaluation, Cain placed in the top 0.1% globally.
There were no traditional rankings from one to a hundred like in the digital era. The men-in-charge knew it was pointless to label individuals who had yet to prove themselves in real-world application.
A feat, yes, but only one of many needed criteria for the Top Five Academies, where barely a tenth ever reached graduation.
"I hope I get to a school before I turned sixty."
With this credential, any career would be open to him, if he was glib enough, sharp enough, and lucky enough to survive the interviews.
But entrance into any of the two hundred and five academies came with brutal caveats.
Only those under sixty were eligible. One birthday too late and you were disqualified on the spot.
Worse, each failed attempt during entrance exams shoved you further down the rankings beneath those who passed on their first try, stripping you of the chance to learn from men who weren't just instructors, but dominant forces in the world of Fracturion itself.
As Cain looked at his grandpa, uncle, and aunt who were all alumni of the top five academies, he felt the weight of their silent expectation pressing in from every side.
He stood before Arthur, heart still pounding from the rush of passing the exam.
The old man, with a rare glint of pride, handed him a sleek obsidian case.
Inside were twin pistols, matte black by design with a faint blue line that pulsed down from time to time.
Arthur never gave out luxuries. Everything had to be earned.
Not because he was a miser or downright cold, it was due to the fact that on the battlefield, survival depended on reliability, not rarity.
Cain had to master what he could find again, not cling to relics too rare to replace.
These pistols weren't top-tier, but they were common, solid, and familiar.
"Better to train your hands for the tools you'll wield more than once than waste time chasing perfection you'll never touch again."
"I appreciate it, Gramps."
But no one treated them as inferior as their true value lay in spell magazine compatibility. The default magazine held up to twenty spell types, and a tactile analogue wheel replaced the traditional hammer, letting users switch spells with ease.
Additional magazines were sold separately, including tungsten-shot models capable of holding up to three hundred rounds. There were also explosive, homing, and other specialized variants available.
These were built for instant response, eliminating casting time and turning every fight into a test of aim.
The final feature was that the two pistols could connect, transforming into an assault rifle and allowing seamless transition from mid-range to long-range combat.
For Cain, this was more than just a reward. He knew the value of instant-cast slots, especially those powered by stable modular cores, the kind he could easily replace.
Julius had also given him a gift. It was a tattered notebook. When Cain opened it.
(Title: How to Pick Up Girls in a Ruin or Dungeon)
Julius was already flashing a smug smile, but when he caught sight of the title, he immediately snatched it back and handed Cain a different one.
"Ahem! Sorry, chap, wrong one."
(Title: Exploiting Digital Firearm Devices 101)
Wanting to gain some face back, he immediately lectured what is inside.
"Cain my good chap, these tricks aren't in the manual not because the corporations are greedy shitters, but because a fair number of shitheads blew themselves up. In short, if you're a bloody idiot, say adios to your weapons."
Cain nodded, quietly taking mental notes of his uncle's tips, and if he wanted to master these pistols, he'd have to treat them like a puzzle worth solving.