Reincarnated as the Only Male in an All-Girls Magic Academy!-Chapter 28: Shocking Progress!

The training room was quiet, save for the faint humming of magic energy pulsing through the walls.

Smooth white tiles beneath Ren's bare feet gleamed under the glowing ceiling panels, and the air smelled faintly of ozone and sweat.

Ren stood motionless a few meters away from the obsidian-black combat dummy—a humanoid training golem about his height with blank eyes and no facial features, forged out of a metal so tough even enchanted weapons had to work hard to damage it.

Its joints clicked softly as it powered on, each limb emitting a soft hiss of built-in enchanted pressure.

Ren was already drenched in sweat, his silver hair plastered slightly to his forehead, yet his sharp eyes glimmered with focus and calm.

He was wearing a simple but tight training outfit, the kind that stretched over muscle and clung to motion, every inch of him built like a coiled spring.

And in his right hand, resting like it belonged there, was Bloodthirsty, his brutal, oversized kusarigama.

The scythe half of the weapon gleamed like a crescent moon soaked in blood, and the spiked metal club attached to its long red chain glinted menacingly.

The chain itself was coiled loosely around Ren's left arm like a serpent waiting to strike. It moved with him when he shifted his stance, humming faintly with weight and tension.

This was no dainty blade, this was a war weapon. Unwieldy. Brutal. And Ren made it look stylish.

A mechanical beep broke the silence.

[Initiating Battle Simulation: Standard Level 5]

The dummy's glowing eyes flared with a sapphire light.

With a metallic growl, it reached over its shoulder, pulled out a wide longsword, and twirled it in one hand with impossible speed. Air whooshed and distorted around it.

The blade spun so fast it left multiple afterimages in the air, blurs of silver-blue light spinning around its frame like a buzzsaw preparing to activate.

Then it shot forward.

The floor dented under its leap, and in less than a second it was already in front of Ren, blade cleaving downward in a brutal arc that would've bisected a boulder!

Ren moved.

But not backwards.

No, he ducked into the swing, his body twisting like liquid as the blade missed him by a hair's breadth.

With a fluid flick of his right wrist, he slung the scythe end of Bloodthirsty upward, catching the underside of the dummy's sword and deflecting it just enough to mess up the angle of the follow-through.

Swoosh!

At the same time, he spun low, dragging the chain taut across the dummy's shin like a tripwire. It was slick. Stylish. And almost worked.

The dummy jumped over it and spun mid-air, bringing its blade down in a reverse slash. Ren was already predicting it.

His mind had done the math in real-time.

'It shifted stance 3 degrees left before leaping... that means a clockwise rotation is most probable... 76% chance it follows up with a downward strike to punish a low dodge... 22% chance it fakes and goes horizontal...'

So he dodged not to the side, but forward, stepping into the dummy's personal space and launching the club end of his kusarigama up with a sharp yank.

It smashed into the dummy's shoulder and knocked it back a step.

Thud!

Ren didn't let up. He yanked the chain back, reeling in the scythe like a fisherman calling home a kill, and danced in a circle around the dummy, calculating and watching.

The dummy recovered fast, spinning its sword with one hand while launching a thrust at Ren's torso with the other.

It was a misdirection feint. Ren read it like a book and slapped the real attack—a high kick aimed at his temple—aside with the chain, wrapping it around the dummy's leg.

The dummy twisted, managed to break free, and launched a knee at his chest.

Swoosh!

Ren ducked, dropped onto his back, and kicked upward with both feet—launching the dummy several meters backward.

He rolled to his feet instantly, spinning the kusarigama in wide arcs, the chain humming through the air like a whip being cracked in slow motion.

The dummy adapted. It moved faster now, its sword glowing faintly with magic enhancement.

It spun in, blade flashing in a beautiful eight-point pattern. Ren parried two, ducked one, and took a shallow cut across the side, but used the momentum to launch the club end in a wide arc that forced the dummy to jump back.

Now it was a battle of speed. The dummy came in with a flurry of diagonal slashes, and Ren matched it with his own brutal swinging techniques.

Swish! Swish! Swoosh!

He used the chain like a ribbon, coiling it around the dummy's blade, pulling, twisting, redirecting—then suddenly releasing with a sharp flick to send the scythe spinning toward its neck.

The dummy leaned back and dodged, but Ren caught the rebound and twisted the blade down toward its foot.

Clang! Swish! Thud!

They clashed again, and again. Metal screamed. Sparks flew. The dummy ducked, slid, countered with inhuman timing.

Ren weaved, kicked, flipped the chain under his leg to change directions mid-swing. He was using physics like an artist used paint.

Every move was a brushstroke. Every swing a calculation. He wasn't just fighting, he was testing. Every reaction of the dummy was fed into the growing equation in his mind.

Clang! Swish! Thud!

By now, he was panting. Not from exhaustion, but exhilaration. His eyes gleamed. His grin was feral.

The dummy raised its blade and charged with a spin strike meant to carve through bone.

Ren sidestepped at the last second and wrapped the chain fully around the dummy's sword arm, locking it in place.

'Now! Probability of escape—low. Next move must exploit vertical gap. Initiate combo!'

He pulled. The dummy stumbled.

Ren yanked the scythe back and swung it horizontally, catching the dummy's hip and slashing clean through the enchantment plating. Sparks flew.

The dummy tried one last desperate attack; a headbutt.

Ren didn't dodge.

He stepped in, wrapped the chain around the back of its neck mid-headbutt, and dragged it into a kneeling position. Then he spun the club overhead like a meteor.

"Night-night!"

And smashed it down into the top of the dummy's head.

Bang!

There was a loud BANG, like a gong being struck by a cannonball. The dummy's body froze. Its glowing eyes flickered, dimmed, and then went dark.

[Battle Simulation Complete. Victory: Trainee Ren.]

Ren stood still for a few seconds, breathing hard. His hair was messier, sweat dripping down his cheek, but his eyes were sharp, alive.

He stared at the broken dummy, the shattered weapon, and the crater its head left in the floor.

He whistled.

"Damn... The evolution forge is kinda too broken."

Even Ren, who was usually the first person to believe in himself—and sometimes even a bit too much—found it hard to believe what had just happened.

Just one week ago, he'd barely known how to hold a weapon without looking awkward. A complete noob, in every sense of the word.

He had actually tripped over his own footwork during warm-up drills and had once accidentally stabbed the ceiling with the scythe part of Bloodthirsty just trying to twirl it like he'd seen in a movie.

But now? Now he'd just dismantled a Standard Level 5 battle dummy like he was some low-tier boss mob in a game!

It wasn't flashy luck or blind aggression, it was pure skill. He hadn't just been swinging wildly and praying something hit. No.

Every move was calculated, every angle measured, every reaction planned out in advance like a living, breathing combat algorithm wearing silver hair and a smug grin.

It was terrifying even to him.

'How the hell did I get this good this fast?' he wondered. And then, of course, the answer immediately came to mind: The Evolution Forge.

That was the real game-changer.

To anyone else, learning a weapon like the kusarigama—a weapon that combined the unpredictable chaos of a flail, the danger of a scythe, and the weight of a chain—would've taken years. Literal years.

Even prodigies would struggle with mastering just the basic timing. It wasn't like using a sword where you could swing in one direction and call it a technique.

With the kusarigama, every move was a trap, every swing a potential self-injury. One bad spin and you'd smack yourself in the face with the club end.

One wrong angle and the chain could knot around your wrist or leg. It was a nightmare to train in.

Just a week ago, he'd actually punched himself in the side trying to do a spinning technique.

But with the Evolution Forge, that nightmarish learning curve was practically thrown out the window and drop-kicked into the sky.

Because Ren wasn't just learning in the usual way.

After every single training session no matter how basic or clumsy, every thought he had about the kusarigama, every failed motion, every flicker of insight, was all stored, refined, and evolved.

The forge didn't just make him a little better overnight, it sculpted the very foundation of his combat brain like a blacksmith tempering divine steel.

His muscle memory evolved. His instincts evolved. His very experience—something that usually came only with pain and repetition—was evolving like someone had uploaded a year's worth of sparring footage directly into his nerves!

And every time he woke up, his movements felt a lot more natural, his reflexes a lot more terrifying.

He didn't just move better, he understood better. Concepts that should've taken months of training felt almost obvious after a good night's sleep.

And what made it even crazier?

He knew this was just the beginning!

He grinned to himself, gripping his towel tightly as he made his way to the showers.

"If I'm already doing this after a week... what the hell am I gonna look like after three months?" he muttered, chuckling under his breath.

He imagined himself slicing through flying blades with his eyes closed or wrapping the chain around an enemy mid-air while flipping—ridiculous anime-level stuff.

And the best part? It actually felt achievable. Not some impossible dream, but a very real and very terrifying future.

But the kusarigama wasn't the only thing that had undergone shocking growth.

Over the past week, Ren had been faithfully practicing his first weaving technique every day. It was slow and meditative work, nothing like swinging a weapon around.

Weaving was all about focus, rhythm, and deep connection to the Loom threads that floated invisibly through the world.

But despite being a total beginner, Ren had already reached the point where most students spent several days just trying to grasp the basic feel of the threads.

And he was already close to mastering his first actual weave. Just one week. One!

His divine-grade attunement to weaving didn't just give him talent, it gave him command.

It was like the moment he sat down to practice, the threads themselves leaned in and whispered, Finally. Someone who gets us. His evolved mental sea simply made things even more ridiculous.

He thought back to the first time he actually felt the threads pulsing through his fingers during a meditation.

It had been faint, like static in the air, but within minutes, he was already beginning to notice patterns. Within a day, he could tease them into shapes.

Now, he was on the cusp of locking them into actual weaves—literal spellcraft. He still hadn't managed to complete his first weave yet, but that was okay. He wasn't in a rush.

Well... he was, but only a little.

Just imagining casting magic, real magic, something woven from his own mind and will made his heart race.

'Soon,' he promised himself. 'Soon I'll cast my first real weave!'

He felt excited as hell... but forced himself to calm down. He couldn't lose composure now—not when he was gaining so much momentum.

No need to rush brilliance. He'd get there, and when he did, it would be loud.

After his shower, which he took at exactly 42.5 degrees Celsius—warm enough to relax the muscles, but not enough to make him sluggish—Ren stepped out into the dressing area, toweling his hair dry and humming to himself.

It was then that his thoughts drifted to his mysterious roommate, Lia.

Ah, Lia.

The beautiful, hardworking girl who could punch someone to death with her fists and had almost done so to him on day one.

Their relationship had started on rocky ground. Literally. There was still a cracked tile in their dorm room from their first "kiss attempt."

But over the past week, Ren had used his signature blend of calm confidence, cleverness, and unspoken charm to gradually ease past her emotional defenses.

He didn't flirt often—too risky. Instead, he understood her. Observed her reactions, matched her moods, gave her space when needed, and offered conversation only when it felt natural.

Now, they weren't quite good friends, but they weren't just strangers sharing a room either. He could even call her name without risking an embarrassed glare. That was progress.

Plus, he hadn't been bullied again since that first incident. Not even once.

Ren had a sneaking suspicion that Mirabella's influence was keeping the sharks at bay.

He'd have to thank her when they met next and maybe finally ask her directly if she'd been protecting him.

Not that he minded. He was grateful. But he didn't want to be anyone's pitiful charity case either.

Now, it was time to return to the dorm and get ready for the day's classes. He hadn't meant to spend this long in the training room, it was just that after evolving so many instincts and experience overnight, he couldn't help himself.

He'd needed to test them out. And wow, had it been worth it.

He slung his towel over his shoulder and smirked.

Another day, another shock to the world.

He couldn't be any more right...