The forest air was crisp when I stepped out from its shadow, the faint scent of pine clinging to me as I followed the worn dirt path back to Windermere's portal station. For a moment, I glanced over my shoulder—the trees swayed, whispering secrets I would leave behind. My time there was finished.
The portal hummed when I entered the station, arcs of silver-blue light rippling across its frame. I handed the keeper my identification card, and with a nod, stepped into the gate.
A flash.
A pull.
Then I was back at Solara Prime.
I then walked towards the academy. I met the same guard ,I gave him a nod and entered the academy ground.
The familiar sight of towering spires, enchanted lamps, and the endless bustle of students washed over me like a tide. I exhaled a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. No matter how strange this place was, it was my reality now.
I returned to my dorm room and shed my travel-worn clothes, exchanging them for something more casual—simple trousers and a light tunic. After a quick adjustment of my sword belt, I headed out again.
Today, I would train.
The training building loomed ahead of me, its polished stone walls glinting faintly with embedded mana crystals. Even from the outside, it was clear that an obscene amount of funds had gone into its construction. Then again, it made sense—the students here weren't just scholars; they were the future protectors of humanity.
Inside, the air buzzed with energy.
To the right, the **Combat Arena** stretched wide, its reinforced barriers glowing faintly as two seniors clashed in a violent exchange of sword and spear. Sparks rained as weapons collided, but the protective formations kept their injuries minimal.
Further in, I passed the **Archery Range**, rows of targets set at shifting distances. Arrows whistled, thudding into bullseyes with deadly precision.
Beyond that lay the **Elemental Resonance Chambers**—specialized rooms designed to simulate hostile elemental conditions. Firestorms, blizzards, lightning-filled skies. It was said that only higher-ranked students could afford the resources to train inside, given the immense mana cost.
Finally, I reached the **Dummy Center**.
Rows of practice dummies lined the chamber, enchanted to absorb damage and mimic lifelike responses. Students shouted, blades slashing and fists flying, sweat staining their training clothes. But my eyes shifted to a corner where a loud voice echoed.
"HAH!"
A long spear cut through the air, sharp and precise. The wielder moved with effortless control, his strikes relentless.
Michael Orbane.
The game's protagonist.
Even here, he shone like a beacon, drawing gazes without trying. His spear whirled, the dummy before him barely keeping up with his barrage. I watched for a moment, then turned away.
My goal wasn't to measure myself against him—not yet
At the far end of the Dummy Center were enclosed chambers—personal training rooms where difficulty could be scaled. That was what I needed.
I swiped my card, the door sliding open with a soft hiss. A mechanical voice greeted me.
\
A faint smile tugged at my lips. Dead last. That label still clung to me.
Inside, the walls gleamed white with faint mana conduits running across them. A panel lit up.
"First stage," I said.
\
I gripped my sword tightly.
\
The lights dimmed, and five humanoid dummies slid from hidden compartments. Their joints clicked as they activated, glowing eyes locking onto me.
Then they moved.
/TOK/ /TOK/ /TOK/
Their synchronized advance was mechanical, precise.
I inhaled sharply, grounding my stance. No skills. No blessings. Only my body, my reflexes, and the basic sword style.
The first dummy lunged with a downward strike. I sidestepped, blade flashing upward to parry. The impact jarred my arms, but I twisted and delivered a riposte, slashing across its torso. Sparks flew.
Another swung at my ribs. I ducked low, pivoting as my sword carved through its leg joint.
The remaining three pressed me at once. My pulse thundered.
Clang. Slash. Parry.
Each movement was stripped bare of flash—just clean, efficient swordplay. Sweat dripped down my temple as I redirected strikes, countering with sharp thrusts.
Finally, the fifth dummy fell, collapsing in sparks.
\
My breathing was ragged, my arms burning. And this was only the beginning.
"Activate stage two "
Seven dummies appeared this time.
I tightened my grip, body already aching, but raised my sword nonetheless.
They attacked in staggered pairs, faster and smarter than before. I had to move constantly, weaving between their strikes, using one enemy's swing to block another. My blade blurred in wide arcs, catching them just as they left openings.
A misstep nearly cost me—a dummy's strike grazed my side, sending a sting of pain. I gritted my teeth and forced my body forward, driving my sword through its chest.
Minutes dragged, my vision narrowing, every muscle screaming. Finally, I stood panting over seven scattered bodies of metal and wood.
\
I collapsed to a knee, gasping. My shirt clung to me, drenched in sweat.
Still, I pushed forward.
I then challenged the third stage.
Nine dummies this time.
They swarmed like a tide, their coordination brutal. My reflexes screamed, sword clashing again and again. Each strike rattled my bones, each dodge barely avoiding a crushing blow.
"Haah—!"
I slashed horizontally, catching two at once. My sword spun into a thrust, piercing another through the chest. My movements grew sloppy, desperation seeping in, but I refused to fall.
One final dummy lunged, and I roared, cutting it down in a wide overhead slash.
\
I collapsed, chest heaving, body trembling. My vision swam.
I looked at my left arm.
I activateef sylandra's blessing.
The sigil faintly glowed, warmth blooming under my skin. I let the blessing flow.
It spread like fire in my veins, burning away fatigue, though not fully. My exhaustion dulled, my body steadied. Enough to stand again.
"…Alright. Stage Four."
Ten dummies.
From the first clash, I knew this was different. They were faster, stronger, their coordination near perfect.
Blades rained down like a storm, forcing me back step by step. My counters grew desperate, each strike barely keeping them at bay.
I slashed, rolled, parried—but the tide never slowed.
Time ran out.
I fell to one knee, sweat pouring down my face. My chest heaved, my grip faltering.
After a moment's rest, I rose again.
This time, I fought with clarity. I adjusted my stance, conserving energy, redirecting their strikes instead of meeting them head-on. My blade moved like flowing water—deflect, counter, thrust.
One by one, they fell.
The last dummy lunged. I sidestepped, my sword plunging into its chest.
Silence.
\
I collapsed against the wall, drenched in sweat, chest rising and falling like a hammer.
But I had done it.
"Let's check my status."
A familiar blue window appeared before me.
----------------------------------------------
Name: Arthur Dravenlock
Class: Magic Swordsman
Talent: Limitless
Attributes: Space, Lightning
....
Strength: 35 → 37
Speed: 34 → 36
Endurance: 35
Dexterity: 33 → 35
Perception: 32
Mana: 53
...
Skills :
Passive Skill: Perfect Poker (^)
Active Skills: Dash (^), Arc Discharge (^), Dimensional Veil (^)
....
Hidden Skill: Moon Slash
....
Blessing: Spirit Mark of Sylandra
.....
Arts:
Basic Sword Style (Common), Basic Non-Armed Combat (Common)
----------------------------------------------
"…Some of my stats increased."
I checked the time—two hours had passed. My wristwatch read six in the evening.
Enough for today.
When I left the room, Michael was still there, spear in hand, sweat glistening across his brow. For a brief moment, our eyes met. His gaze was sharp, piercing, like he was sizing me up.
I turned away without a word.
The cafeteria was buzzing when I arrived. I picked up a plate of **Mana-Steamed Beef with Wildgrain Rice**, its aroma comforting. I settled at my usual corner table and ate quietly, ignoring the stares of students around me.
Halfway through, Michael entered—Jurian and Silas at his side. The cafeteria seemed to ripple with whispers at their appearance, but I didn't spare them more than a glance.
I finished my meal, stood, and left.
Back in my room, I took a quick shower, the warm water soothing my battered body. Dressed in fresh clothes, I sank into my bed. I was really tired today.
My thoughts drifted—from Sylandra's blessing, to the brutal dummy fights, to the quiet but undeniable progress I had made. Tomorrow, classes would begin. A new step forward.
With that thought lingering in my mind, I let sleep take me.