Bullied Hollowborn: My Tribrid System Awakening

Chapter Six: The Legendary Team Seven

Richard's Pov

There was a tension in the air that morning. Not the kind that crackled with laws or whispered of danger—it was heavier, subtler, like the kind that settled in a room before a brawl. It clung to my uniform, tight at the collar, irritating at the cuffs. Or maybe that was just the way everyone stared at me as I stepped into the Cadet Training Grounds.

The courtyard was massive, divided into zones—combat rings, sparring dummies, laws conduits, and even an arena encased in transparent shielding where mock battles could be fought at full force. Around me, cadets were stretching, sparring, laughing. Some quieted when I passed. Others didn’t bother to hide the way they whispered.

“Is that him?”

“Number 96? No way. That guy’s Hollowborn.”

“Miracle’s charity case.”

I clenched my jaw and walked faster.

An instructor met me halfway. He wore no insignia, just the dull-gray robe of a training overseer, his face as blank as a polished blade.

“Richard Sol?” he asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“You’ve been assigned to Squad Seven. Your combat group. All your practicals, matches, and missions will be conducted with them.”

“Understood.”

He turned away. “Follow me.”

We moved through the maze of training fields toward one of the central sparring pits—surrounded by raised bleachers and wide enough to host a small army. Inside, six cadets were already gathered. And not just any cadets.

Caleb Hemmins stood at the far edge, a gleaming sword resting lazily against his shoulder, chatting with a student I didn’t recognize. His eyes met mine briefly—but he turned away like I wasn’t worth the acknowledgment.

Lena Vey leaned against the arena railing, flipping a small dagger between her fingers. Her gaze slid over me, and she gave a single arch of her brow. No smile. No greeting. Just that.

Nyx and Gin were at the center of the ring trading practice blows with speed and elegance that looked choreographed. They stopped when I entered, Nyx brushing silver hair behind one ear as Gin narrowed his eyes.

And then there was Ara Ash.

She stood alone by the far pillar, eyes closed, back straight, breathing slowly. Her presence was still. Controlled. Like a storm paused mid-air. Her eyes opened as I stepped into the ring, piercing straight through me.

Squad Seven. Of course.

I didn’t say anything. Neither did they.

The instructor raised a hand. “Listen up. Squad Seven is Miracle’s elite unit for this year. The council’s orders. You are the top prospects. You’ll train harder, fight more often, and be evaluated more closely than anyone else. Fail, and you’re out.”

He pointed to me.

“Sol, you’re the only cadet in history to rank top 100 as a Hollowborn. That means something—though what, we’ll find out.”

Murmurs rippled through the group. Caleb looked away, expression unreadable. Lena snorted softly. Gin’s lips curled in something close to disdain.

The instructor didn’t stop.

“Today’s training will test your base combat compatibility. You’ll spar with each other. Full contact. No lethal spells, no external artifacts. Law usage is permitted under supervision. Healers are standing by.”

“First match: Richard Sol vs. Gin Soren.”

Gin stepped into the center of the arena, tossing his jacket aside and cracking his knuckles. His gray eyes glinted as he sized me up.

“You don’t belong here,” he said simply. “But don’t worry. I’ll fix that.”

I walked to the center. The others stood along the ring edge, silent.

“Begin!”

Gin was on me instantly—fast, fluid, relentless. A flurry of strikes forced me on the defensive. I ducked, twisted, rolled, and parried. But every time I thought I had a rhythm, he changed the tempo. He was toying with me, testing me.

A high kick swept my feet. I fell hard. Pain cracked across my shoulder.

“Get up,” Gin said coldly.

I scrambled upright. A cut bled at my temple.

“Don’t get discouraged,” he added with mock sympathy. “I’m sure Hollowborns are good at something. Sweeping floors, maybe.”

I activated my core, slowly channeling the laws through my body. 

I had gotten better since the entrance exams with my mastery of the laws still at rank F but rapidly growing.

I didn’t reach for Null Drive. Not yet.

Instead, I focused on what I had. My mind. My tactics.

Gin lunged.

This time, I let him overextend, then pivoted low and swept his leg from under him. He hit the ground hard, and I followed up with a sharp jab to his ribs—drawing a grunt from him.

Surprise flickered in his eyes.

We broke apart, circling. Blood dripped down my cheek. My breath was ragged. But I was still standing.

The instructor called it. “Match concluded. Draw.”

Gasps echoed.

Gin stormed off without a word.

I stood still, letting the pain settle.

“Next match: Sol vs. Nyx.”

More speed. More pressure. Nyx was faster than Gin, lighter on her feet, but less direct. She probed and tested. I kept pace, barely dodging just enough, countering when I could. She was surgical with her strikes.

“Why aren’t you using your ability?” she asked mid-fight.

“I can’t control it.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because I’m still standing.”

I blocked her next strike with my forearm. The impact jolted up my bones. Then I twisted, trapping her arm and flipping her to the mat.

She rolled away, grinning.

“Intriguing,” she muttered, wiping sweat from her brow.

Another draw.

“Next: Sol vs. Lena Vey.”

She didn’t wait. The moment the instructor gave the signal, her dagger was already at my throat. I barely tilted aside. She moved like water—silent, terrifying, graceful. And cruel.

“Let me guess,” she whispered, dancing behind me. “You want to prove you’re not just some accident? That you belong here?”

I spun to block a strike. She ducked under and elbowed me hard in the ribs.

“You’re not ready. You’re not trained. I'm half awakened and half Hollowborn. I might not have it as rough as you, but I do understand your struggles.”

“Still, I can not go easy on you.”

I lunged, but she vanished, appearing at my flank. I felt her blade graze my ribs—light enough to sting, not enough to cut.

She stepped back.

“Match over.”

The instructor frowned. “Sol?”

“I yield,” I said through gritted teeth.

Pain flared where she’d touched me. A lesson wrapped in punishment.

The final match was against Caleb.

But the instructor raised a hand. “No rematches. Not yet.”

Caleb smirked.

Later that afternoon, I tried to breathe in the cool air as I moved toward the mess hall. My body ached. Bandages clung to my skin. But I made it to the end of training, which was more than most expected.

I barely stepped through the door before a tray clattered near me.

“Oops,” a tall cadet sneered, stepping into my path. He was broad, wearing the emblem of the Tenfold House—a minor noble clan. Two others flanked him.

“Hey, it’s the Hollowborn Hero,” he said loudly. “Here to dine with the real cadets?”

I stepped around him.

He shoved me back. “Don’t turn your back on me.”

I didn’t fall. I straightened and stared him down.

“You really think that placing in the top 100 changes what you are?” he hissed. “You’re a mistake. A fluke.”

“Try me,” I said.

His punch came fast. But mine came faster.

I ducked, twisted, and slammed my elbow into his side. He doubled over, gasping.

Another lunged. I used his momentum and threw him into the table. Trays flew. Students shouted.

A third one reached for a rune, but suddenly—crack—the room flickered. Null Drive activated.

Gasps echoed as lights dimmed. Laws failed to accumulate in me, and my ability fizzled.

I fell to one knee, bleeding from the nose. Pain split through my skull.

But they didn’t attack again.

Because standing behind me—silent and dangerous—was Ara Ash.

She didn’t say a word. Just one look from her was enough for them to back off.

She glanced down at me.

“You’re not ready,” she said softly. “But you will be.”

Then she turned and walked away.

I felt the presence of the laws even stronger, and my core began to accumulate more, and the glyphs of other laws on my body began to shine bright. 

I had broken through to rank F+.