Harem Training System: Every Girl I Train Makes Me Stronger!

The academy sprawled, a collection of imposing stone structures linked by sheltered paths and expansive, sunlit courtyards. The students, clad in their pricey uniforms, brushed by him, oblivious, their voices a cheerful murmur of conversation and laughter.

When a few of the instructors looked at William, their expressions turned cold.

He was a ghost in this place. He was more than just unseen; he was the kind of person that others actively avoided.

William moved through the crowd, heading for the main assembly hall, keeping pace with the instructors and staff. The edifice was impressive, its lofty ceilings held aloft by marble columns.

There were enchanted torches flickering, casting a warm glow without a hint of smoke. The seats were arranged in neat rows, all pointing toward a slightly elevated stage.

It was there that the headmaster and the senior instructors would soon take their places.

William settled into a seat at the back, deliberately distancing himself from the other instructors, who were already forming their usual clusters. He settled in, his gaze sweeping the surroundings, taking in every detail with the keen perception of a man accustomed to evaluating both dangers and possibilities.

The assembly kicked off with the headmaster’s address. He was an old man with a long white beard, a testament to the years, and he spoke of tradition, striving for the best, and of the academy’s storied past.

William hardly paid attention because his attention was drawn to the instructors, observing their physical cues, the dynamics between them, and the pecking order that seemed to govern their interactions. The headmaster’s voice pierced the chatter, revealing the class assignments for the upcoming semester.

"And finally," the old man said, pushing his glasses up his nose, "William Wade, the Zero-Class support instructor, will be available to help with basic training when necessary."

A smattering of laughter rippled through the room. William’s lack of reaction stemmed from a history of encountering far more egregious disrespect.

’Fuckin’ hell man...’

...

The meeting concluded, and the instructors started to leave. William rose and began his walk toward the door, but then something unusual occurred.

A voice, clear and mechanical, resonated within his mind, impossible to dismiss.

"Harem Training System: Online."

William halted, caught in the act. He scanned the room, but everyone else appeared oblivious.

"Huh?" William looked around. "What the fuck was that...?"

The voice went on, "Hello, User."

"Congratulations, you’ve been chosen to host the Harem Training System."

"The goal is straightforward: nurture the abilities of promising young women."

"As they grow more powerful, so do you."

"The bonds that are formed will accelerate growth. Teaching, not fighting, is the way to gain influence."

A screen, faint and shimmering, materialized in his field of vision, its presence known only to him. The text moved quickly across the screen.

[Current Level: 0]

[Current Stats: Locked]

[Mission: Teach a girl with potential.]

[Unlocking basic stats and system functions is the reward.]

[If you are worthy to train a lot of potential girls, then the system will evolve into something mind-blowing.]

[There’s no time limit or penalty that grants you death.]

William gaped at the screen, which hung in the air before him, utterly astonished. "A system? It felt like a scene from a fantasy story."

"The world was becoming increasingly bizarre, moment by moment."

"That’s when you know that you’re reincarnated alright..."

"...well, at least I got something other than this miserable life."

"Alright... I’ll do it; at least there’s something that I could probably do right now."

The screen flickered out before he could make sense of it all, and suddenly, he was outside the assembly hall. The training grounds, a distant sight, were etched with the elongated shadows of the late afternoon sun.

He needed to process this, to grasp the system’s significance and its inner workings. Above all else, he needed a protégé.

William began his walk toward the training grounds, his instincts leading the way. Anyone still at it this late? Probably the real deal, the ones who didn’t just settle for the usual.

The training grounds were largely deserted, save for a flicker of activity in the far corner. "Got it."

The girl was by herself, facing away from him, near a line of training dummies, and her academy uniform, the usual garb, was in tatters, smeared with grime. Her long, wavy black hair fell past her shoulders, and she held a standard-issue training sword in her hands.

The blade whistled through the air, again and again, as it met the stone pillar. Each strike sent a shower of sparks dancing into the air.

She moved with an urgency that belied her carefulness, as if she were attempting to chisel through a barrier that simply wouldn’t yield.

William remained still, observing her as she spoke, her breaths becoming more labored as blood oozed from her hands, the blisters having burst, yet she pressed on. With a more forceful swing, she struck the stone pillar again, and a hairline fracture appeared.

She crumpled, hitting the ground hard, the sword slipping from her fingers, slick with crimson. William moved ahead, the gravel shifting beneath his boots.

The girl’s gaze shot up, her crimson eyes meeting his with a blend of shock and anger. Even in her battered state, with blood seeping from her wounds, she still radiated the aura of a hunter.

"Who are you?" she rasped, the words barely audible.

William halted a short distance from her, his expression steady as he looked her in the eye. "Someone who knows talent when he sees it."

"And someone who can show you how to shatter more than just rock," he murmured.

The girl fixed him with a look, her expression a mask of doubt. Yet, beneath the surface of that skepticism, William discerned something else entirely, and that is a desperate yearning for progress.

Those eyes belonged to a woman who never surrendered, even when the world seemed determined to keep her down.

"Potential target identified: Lia Valestria, Rank C." The voice, a familiar presence, resonated in his thoughts once more, affirming what William had already surmised.

He needed this girl so much. And she needed him too, even if she didn’t know it.

Lia Valestria looked at William like he had just insulted her whole bloodline because of that word. Based on her face, it might have been less rude than offering to help.

"I don’t need an instructor," she said flatly, wiping blood from her hands onto her already ruined uniform without looking away. "Especially not a random instructor I’ve never met before."

William raised an eyebrow when he saw that she quickly tried to hide her shaking hands behind her back. "This girl... I know that she’s the type to hide her true feelings."

This is a classic way to deflect, the kind of thing someone would do if they didn’t want others to see their weakness. He had seen it a thousand times before, usually right before a soldier broke down during training.

William calmly crossed his arms and said, "I’m not offering to be your instructor."

"I’m just saying that you’re going to break every bone in your hands before you get anywhere with that technique."

"What...?" Lia’s jaw got tight. "My technique is good."

William surprised her by sarcastically saying, "Your technique is perfect, and that’s... the issue."

For a moment, she blinked, and the anger turned to confusion. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"Oh wow, jeez... language there."

"Ehem!"

William pointed to the broken stone pillar. "You are using a high-level sword technique that is meant to be used against armored opponents."

"You probably spent years practicing to get every move just right. But you’re using it on stone, which is a whole different story."

"A perfect technique doesn’t mean anything if you’re using it in the wrong way."

Lia’s red eyes narrowed in a scary way. "Are you saying I’m fucking stupid?"

"Nah..." William said, "More like calling you stubborn."

"And keep that in mind... there is a difference," William raised his finger. "Stupid people don’t see when they make mistakes."

"People who are stubborn know they need help, but they keep doing it anyway because admitting they need help feels worse than failing."

For a second, William thought she might really try to hit him with that sword. Her knuckles turned white as she tightened her grip on the handle, even though blood was covering her palms.

But instead of getting frustrated, she took a deep breath and stood up straight.

"I don’t need help from anyone," she said softly, and this time there was something weak behind her defiance. "I’ve gotten this far by myself..."

"I’ll figure it out in the end."