Julius Chadnovski, the second-in-command of the Roosevelt Fortress.
Part human, part machine, he placed himself on the operating table in pursuit of power.
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 odd kind of mentor who wore a suit like a con man but trained killers like a drill sergeant.
Arthur always scolded him for training outsiders within the Roosevelt Fortress, but the punishment never went beyond words.
Some of those trainees later gave Arthur the connections he needed to grow his own business.
Going back to Cain, Julius had taught him all sorts of things which includes acting, accounting, pricing awareness and market fluctuations.
He also gave him a lesson in some unsavory things such as gambling, stealing and scamming.
"You don't know the enemy."
Julius lectured him while digging through his stuff, skimming his mock files, and swiping redeemable practice codes from their coupons, all without being detected.
Then he'd put everything back, acting like nothing had happened.
"Unless you saw what's in their pockets."
After performing the sleight of hands that Cain needed to learn, he chuckled, tapping a sleek band around his wrist.
"My little 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?"
"I understand Uncle J, I'll keep that in mind."
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. Today's training isn't hard at all."
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.
"Uncle J stop messing around."
"Cain my boy, it seems you don't like to go to school anymore, eh? My eyes could have been deceived by your shallow will, I suppose."
Without hesitation, the old man walked away, seeing this, Cain shouted as loud as he can.
"I'll do it! Anything you asked of me."
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!"
Cain pleaded as he saw his uncle wave. He was just about to breathe a sigh of relief when a swarm of drones fired a volley of rubber bullets.
The rope snapped, hurling him into the wilderness. His voice echoed faintly toward Julius.
"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 look 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 he was about to relax while pulling himself closer to the walls, a faint sound caught his ear.
"Hehe."
Cain tensed up, but it was all too late.
A paintball nailed him dead center on the forehead.
"Take care now, little chap."
"Uncle J! You —"
This went on for three brutal months, he went back and forth across the fortress.
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 little chap. Now was it all a waste of time, 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 what you'll wield twice than lose time adjusting to perfection you'll never find again.
The true value lay in their spell magazine compatibility.
The default magazine could hold up to twenty spell types, a tactile analogue wheel was etched in place of a traditional hammer, letting the user 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.
"Ehem! 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.