Warrior Training System-Chapter 468: Contorled regeneration

Cassian didn’t believe a single word coming out of Robert’s mouth—but he let him talk anyway. If Robert wanted to run his mouth, Cassian was happy to let him dig his own grave a little deeper.

Robert seemed to notice. He snickered softly. "You don’t believe me, do you?"

"I caught you spying," Cassian scoffed flatly. "Not once—twice. I’m watching your accomplices do it right now. So why would I believe anything that comes out of your mouth?"

His gaze flicked downward to the clearing, where the two women had already started weaving spells around the soldiers, their movements practiced, efficient.

Robert followed his gaze, then sighed like Cassian was being difficult on purpose. He sat back against the tree, posture relaxed, almost casual.

"Because I’m your friend, damn it," Robert said. "And I’d never betray you." He flicked a hand dismissively toward the scene below. "Those two? The information you get from greenhorns like them is worthless. Supply routes, schedules—nothing the cult doesn’t already know. I’m doing this to infiltrate them, not help them."

Cassian’s eyes narrowed. "And I’m supposed to believe the cult handed you a healing ability like that out of pure goodwill?" He’d been inside the cult long enough to know better—nothing there ever came without a price. Even Brigid, from one of the founding families, had been forced to start at the bottom.

That finally made Robert sigh.

The grin slipped off his face—not dramatically, not angrily—but like someone getting tired of explaining something obvious. His eyes sharpened as he looked straight at Cassian.

"You’re exhausting," he said flatly. "I was giving you a way out."

Cassian barely had time to tense.

Robert’s arm didn’t stretch.

It grew.

Muscle burst outward from his shoulder in a violent bloom, new flesh layering over itself in seconds—thick cords knotting together, bone reshaping beneath the skin with a wet, cracking sound. The arm doubled in size mid-motion, joints reforging themselves as it lunged forward.

The impact hit Cassian like a battering ram.

He was slammed clean off the branch, his back crashing into a tree hard enough to shake leaves loose. Bark exploded outward where his body struck, the air knocked straight out of his lungs.

Robert’s oversized arm was already retracting, excess muscle folding back into place as if it had never been there.

"Just take it," Robert said calmly, flexing his hand as the limb finished settling—normal-sized again, smooth, whole, like the violence never happened.

The impact was loud enough to snap the women’s attention upward. The two soldiers were already down—sprawled unconscious near the fire—but Cassian barely registered that.

’What the hell was that...?’

His vision swam as he tried to push himself up. Wood splinters were jammed into his back, the tree trunk behind him cracked where his body had slammed into it. His ears rang, a dull buzzing that refused to fade.

Before he could fully recover, a shadow fell over him.

Robert.

Cassian barely had time to look up before a hand closed around his throat.

Not a hand—something bigger. Thicker. The fingers had swollen, bones reshaping under the skin, muscle bulging outward like it was being poured into a mold mid-motion. The grip wrapped all the way around his neck.

Cassian’s feet left the ground.

He didn’t feel pain—thankfully—but the lack of air hit him fast. Pressure crushed his windpipe, his thoughts turning sluggish, vision dimming at the edges.

He lashed out instinctively, arms and legs swinging hard.

Too short.

Robert’s arm had grown again, lengthening unnaturally, joints popping and shifting as muscle stacked on muscle. Cassian’s kicks cut through empty air. His punches didn’t even come close.

Robert watched him calmly, almost clinically, like this was a demonstration rather than a fight.

"You really should’ve listened," Robert said, voice steady, unstrained, while Cassian dangled in his grip, air slipping away second by second.

Cassian’s vision swam as the pressure tightened around his throat. Robert didn’t rush it. He never did.

"You really thought," Robert said calmly, almost conversationally, "that being a First Circle with fast healing made you special?"

His grip adjusted—not tighter, just better. More efficient. Cassian felt it immediately. Robert wasn’t trying to crush his neck.

"You heal," Robert continued, voice steady. "Quickly. Impressively. I’ll give you that." A faint smile crept into his tone. "But you heal like an animal. Instinctively. Blindly."

Cassian’s fingers clawed uselessly at Robert’s arm. The flesh under his grip wasn’t solid anymore—it shifted, muscle sliding away from pressure like water.

"I don’t," Robert said softly. "I understand it."

Something moved.

Cassian felt it before he saw it—a thin, crawling sensation spreading from Robert’s palm. Skin. Warm. Alive. It crept along Cassian’s jaw, over his cheek, sealing his mouth shut in a suffocating layer.

Robert leaned closer, eyes sharp, almost curious."You assumed the cult gave me regeneration," he said. "No. They gave me control."

Another limb pushed out from Robert’s shoulder—not growing longer, but forming, bone cracking outward, muscle knitting itself in seconds. A third arm followed, bracing against the tree, pinning Cassian completely.

"I can grow hands," Robert went on, like he was explaining a trick he’d practiced too many times. "I can grow inside you if I want." His voice dropped. "Do you know how many ways there are to kill a man who can’t feel pain but still needs to breathe?"

Cassian’s Domain flared, red light bleeding uselessly against the spreading flesh, his will grinding uselessly against something that wasn’t hostile—just certain.

Robert exhaled slowly."I hated you for a long time," he admitted. "Not because you’re stronger. Because you never had to choose."

The two women were already there now, standing at the edge of the clearing. The soldiers lay unconscious at their feet, forgotten.

Robert didn’t even look at them as he spoke."You ladies wanted blood," he said lightly. "Go ahead. We’re done pretending."

One of the women hesitated. "Orders?"

Robert’s smile widened—not cruel, not manic. Confident.

"Send the message," he said. "Initiate the attack."

Then, quietly, to Cassian alone:

"You think I’m inferior because I needed the cult to reach this point."His eyes locked onto Cassian’s, unblinking."But I surpassed you the moment I learned how to use what they gave me."

The skin crept higher, sealing Cassian’s nose.