Two weeks blurred by in a haze of drills, bruises, and shouted orders.
By now the novelty of "hero training" had soured into something more realistic—a grind of sweat and repetition. Even Kouki's ever-present radiance had dulled enough that Hajime wondered whether the Holy Sword title needed a battery change.
Morning sunlight washed over the training ground as Knight Commander Meld addressed the assembled students.
"Listen up!" he barked. "We've hit the two-week mark. Today we measure your growth—stats, technique, spell control. Knights will observe. Try not to embarrass yourselves."
A tired cheer rose from the class.
Hajime rolled his shoulders. His muscles complained, but in a good way—sharper, stronger, coordinated. His stats had crept upward at a steady pace. Nothing absurd like Kouki's jumps, but respectable.
More importantly, his Resonance had adapted.
It pulsed like a quiet metronome beneath the surface, correcting micro-movements, nudging balance during footwork, highlighting attack patterns before they landed. Not overpowering—just… guiding.
Almost like his Soul Core had become the world's strictest personal trainer.
---
Sparring began.
Kouki went first, naturally—overpowered swing, brilliant glow, dramatic finish. The knights cheered. The class applauded. Hajime counted at least four unnecessary flips.
Kaori demonstrated refined healing magic that had the priests exchanging impressed nods.
Shizuku sparred like she'd been training for years which she did, her form polished and deliberate.
Then Hajime stepped forward to face a mid-rank knight he'd sparred before.
The man raised his wooden practice sword with a grin. "Let's see if you improved, Alchemist."
Hajime nodded and stepped in.
The knight attacked quickly. Hajime parried—not through strength but through angle, timing, and efficiency. His blade met each strike at the exact point that redirected force rather than absorbing it.
Resonance flickered subtle cues:
Shoulder angle—left slash coming.
Foot pressure—low thrust incoming.
Weight shift—prepare counter.
Hajime's movements sharpened, though still modest. He wasn't flashy, but he wasn't losing either.
A minute later, the knight stepped back, sweat beading his brow.
"…Good control," he admitted. "Your technique's cleaner."
Hajime almost smiled. "Thanks. I'm trying not to die."
When Meld's whistle signaled the round's end, a few nearby students whispered among themselves. Not awe—just respect.
Hiyama, off to the side, watched with thin-lipped annoyance.
Good, Hajime thought. Glare all you want.
For now, he didn't care.
---
Magic Training.
In the afternoon, the class moved to the magic training annex.
A robed instructor stood before a chalkboard filled with circles, runes, and diagrams, each one packed with more inefficiency than should be legal.
"Magic in Tortus operates on fixed structures," the priest lectured. "Mana → incantation → magic circle activation. Without a proper circle, spells collapse. Today you will test affinity using basic magic circles."
Stacks of pre-printed spell sheets were passed out.
Kouki stepped up first. His circle glowed like something out of a festival firework booth. A fireball shot forward and exploded against the target. Same result for other elements.
"Excellent control," the instructor praised.
Kaori's shot was gentler and she had a great affinity with light, Shizuku's nearly surgical her affinity was wind. Even Ryutarou managed something passable his affinity was earth.
Then—
"Nagumo Hajime."
Hajime inhaled, stepped forward, and held the circle.
He followed the chant precisely. Mana flowed through the inscriptions—
—and the entire spell matrix inflated like an overfilled balloon.
Lines bulged, runes spiderwebbed outward. The printed circle couldn't compress parameters well enough to compensate for his system assigned lack of affinity.
Puff.
The spell fizzled with the magical equivalent of a sad cough.
"Again," the priest said, frowning.
Another sheet. Another try.
Puff.
Even smaller this time.
The priest rubbed his temples. "Your affinity for direct spellcasting is extremely low, Nagumo-dono. Your circles will needs a focus to work . This makes combat magic impractical."
A few students snickered—not loudly, but enough.
Hajime exhaled. "My specialty is not shouting 'fireball.' Understood."
The priest softened slightly. "However, your mana stability is excellent. As an Alchemist, you would excel at pre-inscribed circles—particularly in mineral media."
Mineral media.
Resonance pulsed once.
Hajime bowed politely and returned to the line, Kaori giving him a worried smile.
"You okay?" she whispered.
He shrugged. "I wasn't planning to become a wizard anyway."
Shizuku shot him a soft, knowing glance—she'd seen the circles bulge, and understood he wasn't incompetent so much as incompatible with the church's casting system.
Good. Let them think I'm weak at magic. That's fine.
Because he already had another plan for now.
---
During a break the next day, Hajime found a quiet corner behind the training building—a stack of practice stones beside a crate of leftover materials.
Perfect.
He slipped on his issued transmutation gloves, knelt, and placed a hand over a fist-sized stone.
Mana flowed.
Transmute.
The stone loosened, its structure pliable. Hajime reshaped it with practiced care—compressing, smoothing, then inscribing a clean, optimized magic circle inside.
No redundant lines. No clumsy overlap. Only functional logic.
The world-system resisted at first.
His Soul Core pulsed.
The resistance melted.
Hajime turned the stone in his fingers.
Spell Stones – The Alchemist's Workaround
A throwing stone—simple, light, unassuming.
He stepped back, took a stance, and hurled it toward an empty training dummy.
Tap. BOF.
A soft flash erupted on impact—a tiny fireburst, weak but stable. It singed the dummy lightly but didn't burn.
The stone shattered into harmless fragments.
Hajime nodded. "Beginner-grade. Training-safe. Good."
A shadow fell over him.
Meld.
The knight commander stared at the dummy, then at the fragments of stone.
"…You just threw a spell at a target," Meld said.
"Yes, sir," Hajime replied. "Impact-activated spell stone. Very low output. Safe for practice."
Meld picked up a fragment, inspecting the faint residue of runes.
"You carved this yourself?"
"Yes."
The knight commander grunted. "Interesting. Most Synergists can't get stable stones this early. Very good craftsmanship. This could help reinforce training scenarios."
In other words: harmless but useful.
Exactly what Hajime wanted.
From the main group, students whispered.
"…Nagumo did that?" "Looks more like a firecracker than a spell…" "But still—he made it himself."
Hiyama saw it too—saw the scorched dummy, saw Hajime speaking with Meld, and scowled.
Kaori beamed from the distance, waving silently.
Hajime pretended not to notice.
He wasn't doing this for praise.
He was building tools.
Start small. Stay low-profile. Gather data.
That was enough—for now.
---
Training didn't end with the last drill.
Not for Hajime.
Night after night, while students collapsed into their bunks, he visited the palace library or the smaller camp archive. Among dusty tomes and mana-lamps, he collected information like a scavenger gathering parts.
Tonight he sat at a secluded table with:
• Basic Magical Theory
• Mineral Media and Enchantable Ores
• Monsters of the Northern Continent
• Sacred Relics and Divine Stones
His status plate rested beside them—its numbers a little higher than before, but still modest compared to Kouki.
Strength: 50→ 57
Vitality: 65→ 70
Defense: 55→ 62
Agility: 70→ 78
Magic: 110→ 122
Not flashy except for magic. But he wasn't relying on numbers.
He opened Sacred Relics and Divine materials.
Half the book was poetic rambling about miracles and church-approved history.
Then—
"Divinity Stones: crystallized cores of pure and natural mana. Capable of producing Ambrosia naturally over a long process of mana compression, with proper alchemical process it is theoretically possible to produce Ambrosia—an elixir known to restore grievous wounds and, in rare circumstances even revive those on the brink of death giving them a brand new lease on life ."
His Resonance reacted instantly.
A sharp pulse ran through his chest, vibrating like a tuning fork struck by fate itself.
Ambrosia.
Not just healing.
Revival.
Images that didn't belong to this version of Hajime flickered across his mind—
A fall into darkness. Blood. Screams. A bear. A stone in a hidden cavern.
He exhaled shakily, his brows sweating.
"So Divinity Stones are… resurrection-grade artifacts," he murmured. "And Ambrosia is the world's emergency rollback."
His Soul Core thrummed again—slow, heavy, significant.
He reread the page, committing every detail to memory.
If things ever went wrong…
No not it, When.
When things went wrong, knowledge mattered.
He moved on to the monster compendium: Behemoth sketches, labyrinth maps, crude battlefield notes.
His Resonance gave tiny warning flicks at several monsters but nothing as intense as before.
Divinity Stones had been the trigger point.
Good to know.
---
A Quiet Conversation and a Month-long Clock
Footsteps approached.
Meld leaned against a bookshelf behind him, arms crossed.
"Still studying at this hour?" the knight commander asked.
Hajime didn't look up. "I don't have Kouki's stats. So I need knowledge."
"That's a good answer."
Meld stepped closer, voice dropping slightly.
"You'll need that mindset. Because in about a month, your training moves to fieldwork."
Hajime blinked. "Fieldwork?"
"Yes." Meld's tone hardened. "In four weeks, the class begins supervised exploration of the Orcus Great Labyrinth. Lower floors only. In theory."
That name thudded into Hajime's chest like a falling hammer.
Orcus.
Resonance pulsed—quiet but unmistakable.
"So we're doing a field trip into a death maze," Hajime said dryly.
Meld actually smirked. "More or less. Labyrinths are part of this world's reality. The sooner you experience one, the better."
He turned to leave.
"Rest soon, Nagumo. Overworking helps no one."
Hajime waited until he was gone.
Then he closed the Divinity Stone page gently, tapped his plate, and whispered to himself:
"One month until Orcus."
He felt his Soul Core answer—steady, rhythmic, a ever restless anticipation, a silent promise.
"Fine," he said. "If the abyss is coming, I'll meet it prepared."
He slipped his books back into place, pocketed his plate, and headed into the dark corridors of the camp.
One month.
One Alchemist.
One growing anomaly hidden beneath the numbers.
Tonight, he would plan.
Tomorrow, he would sharpen.
And when the fall came—whenever, however—
He would survive.
Not because of luck.
Not because of a title.
But because he chose to.
Because he built himself to.
Resonance pulsed again—quiet, determined.
The countdown had begun.