I Alone Am The SSS-Rank Regressor

Mikhail put his guns inside as two pieces of steel flew high in the air.

In the next moment, he saw the man hit the ground on his knees, his eyes widened.

It was as if he had just seen his life flash before his eyes.

And he had. The bullets had missed by a millimeter from hitting his legs or more accurately, his private parts.

He also knew that Mikhail had intentionally waved off his gun at the last second.

He knew he had lost. Lost too, in a second of him retaliating back.

There was no kind of spirit left in Burnip to reply back.

And the same was for everyone watching, as they were left amazed by how Mikhail even aimed so accurately.

The guns he was given were so basic and badly manufactured that it would take you years to control its recoil.

Yet, he did it so effortlessly.

Mikhail, however, wasn't there to entertain them. He was staring at his pale hand instead.

As the fight came to an end, the oath was lifted from his body.

And at the same time, a deep tiredness settled in his body. He knew it was because of the oath's toll on his body.

It was still too weak. Not like his past life, where he could have handled multiple oaths on his body.

Mikhail clicked his tongue in frustration.

"Tsk."

Ignoring his thoughts, he looked above where Avalon had already disappeared from the bridge.

And so had his goons as well, taking Burnip along with them.

With nothing left to wonder now, everyone got back to their training.

Even his own squadron, who knew this would happen anyways.

'I need to get stronger.' 

Mikhail clenched his hand.

"Spar with me, Modric." He called out.

***

"Umbralis Phase."

Modric's leg cleanly phased through Mikhail as it turned into a wisp of black smoke.

Turning his own momentum on him, the latter grabbed his leg and spun him through the air.

Slamming him on the ground, Mikhail called an end to their battle.

"You take too much time with your calculations. Put too much trust in something that can go wrong." Mikhail extended his hand to Modric.

"Yeah, I know," Modric replied, taking his hand to stand up.

"When the battle gets faster, you need to trust your instincts more. Sometimes, they are more useful than all those scenarios in your head."

Mikhail strapped his guns to their holsters.

Modric nodded, understanding his advice.

"Remember, if battles could be won by knowledge or numberly predictions, those Emperors would be scholars instead of ruthless bastards." Mikhail looked him in the eye.

"I get it. It's just that your elements and Dragma are hard to deal with."

Mikhail tapped his shoulder several times, encouraging him.

"It's fine, just try to find your way around it. Everything has a weakness, even the hardest of walls."

He could understand Modric's frustration though.

Aside from just his elements, the main reason Mikhail was mainly a pain for his opponents was his Dragma.

A Dragma was an ability granted to a person from their birth.

It could range from being the most useless to having the potential to even cause mass-scale destruction.

They were so unique that they were almost never the same between two people.

And that was all Mikhail knew about them.

There was much more knowledge but up here, there wasn't much you could know.

Fortunately for Mikhail, his Dragma was one of the most unique you could find out there.

It was the ability to form spells without doing incantation for the nodes.

He still needed to form the nodes but he was cut out from doing the work of saying the names.

That was his Dragma, called Flawlëss.

For example, taking a basic spell such as Aqualis Ballium, for the first node where he needed to define the element.

Rather than saying "Aqualis" out loud, he can do it with a hand symbol.

Doing so, obviously uses more mana but it shortens spell times for him by a large amount.

This gave him a whole new edge in a battle, often taking his opponents by surprise.

It was why most of the people refused to reveal their Dragma.

A good Dragma could change the tide of the battle within a second, like the one Mikhail had.

Dragmas were tied to a person's soul tree.

So as the person grew in ranks, their Dragmas would evolve too.

It was ingrained into them.

Done with training, Mikhail turned to Modric.

"Training is finished, you all can go do whatever you want now."

Before he could go, he was questioned back.

"Where are you going?"

"Just some work, I'll be back soon," Mikhail instantly replied back.

But as he was walking, he was again halted in his tracks.

"Mika," Modric called out.

It was the name that he said.

It was their personal nicknames that they had given to each other when they were kids.

So Mikhail knew it was a personal call out.

"Yeah Mord?" Mikhail answered back, dropping the formalities too.

"You good? You seem a bit off lately."

Mikhail was surprised but quickly masked it.

He would be a fool to think he'd escape Modric's eye.

Unfortunately, he could still say nothing.

"Yeah don't worry, just been a little stressed and busy because of the incoming visit. I'm fine."

Mikhail assured with a light smile, looking back into Modric's golden eyes that were boring to him.

For a few seconds, there was silence between them before Modric nodded.

"Alright, just remember to take care of yourself. That's the biggest part."

Mikhail smiled and nodded.

"You too."

As their conversation ended, Mikhail turned and got on his way again.

'I'm sorry but I can't let the same fate happen again. Not to you guys.'

The Dominique was about to arrive, and he needed to be prepared.

***

It was finally time.

Today was the day. The day Mikhail had been preparing for since the day he arrived in this world.

The arrival of the Dominique.

And the attack on the camp.