The training courtyard was larger than I expected, it was a wide expanse of packed dirt surrounded by stone walls, with weapon racks lining one side and training dummies scattered throughout. Captain Marcus stood in the center, a mountain of a man with graying hair, a scarred face, and arms thick as tree trunks. He wore simple leather armor and had a longsword strapped to his hip.
When he saw me approaching, his expression cycled through surprise, suspicion, and finally settled on professional neutrality.
"Young Master Zane," he said with a respectful nod, though his tone carried an edge of skepticism. "Elise mentioned you wished to train this morning. This is... unexpected."
I could read between the lines. The original Zane had probably blown off training more times than he had actually shown up. According to the fragmented memories I'd inherited, the last time Zane had set foot in this courtyard was over two weeks ago, and he had quit after fifteen minutes of complaining.
"I've decided to take my development more seriously," I said, keeping my voice level and confident. "The academy entrance exams are in three months. I intend to pass them."
Marcus's eyebrows rose slightly. "I see. That's... commendable, Young Master."
The doubt in his voice was palpable. I couldn't blame him. Based on Zane's track record, this probably seemed like another passing whim that would fade by tomorrow.
"I know what you're thinking, Captain," I said, meeting his gaze directly. "And you're right to be skeptical. But I'm not asking you to believe in me. I'm asking you to train me."
Something shifted in Marcus's expression—a flicker of respect, maybe even hope. He'd been a soldier once, served in the kingdom's army before an injury forced him into private security. Training a lazy noble brat who treated him like furniture must have been soul-crushing for someone with his background.
"Very well, Young Master. Let me see what you're working with." He gestured to the center of the courtyard. "Show me your stance."
I moved to where he indicated, summoning Shadow into my hand. The dark dagger materialized with a whisper of darkness, and I saw Marcus's eyes narrow with interest.
"A new weapon?"
"I recently acquired," I said, which was technically true. "It's a growth-type."
Marcus's entire demeanor changed. He stepped closer, examining Shadow with the eye of an experienced warrior. "Growth-type weapons are exceptionally rare, Young Master. May I?"
I hesitated, then handed it over. The moment Shadow left my grip, I felt the absence like a missing tooth—that strange connection I'd noticed earlier was real.
Marcus tested the weight, gave it a few experimental swings, and his expression grew thoughtful. "The balance is perfect, despite the unconventional size. And the material..." He ran his thumb carefully along the flat of the blade. "I've never seen anything like it. Where did you acquire this?"
"A private acquisition," I said vaguely. "Family connections."
It was a weak excuse, but Marcus seemed to accept it. Noble families had their secrets, after all.
He handed Shadow back, and I felt the connection snap back into place as my fingers closed around the handle. "A dagger is an unusual choice for a primary weapon," Marcus observed. "Most nobles favor swords or rapiers."
"I'm not most nobles," I replied. And I wasn't. The original Zane had tried learning the sword and failed miserably. But daggers—daggers were different. They were faster, required less raw strength, and rewarded precision over power. Plus, I knew from the novel that speed and technique would matter more than raw power in the long run.
"Show me your stance," Marcus repeated.
I settled into what I thought was a proper fighting stance, blade held in a standard grip, knees slightly bent. Marcus immediately began circling me, and I could feel his experienced gaze cataloging every flaw.
"Your weight distribution is off—too much on your front foot. Your grip is adequate but could be refined. Your shoulders are tense, which telegraphs your movements." He stopped in front of me. "But the foundation is there. You've had some training."
The original Zane's muscle memory, sparse as it was. At least it was something to build on.
"We'll start with the basics," Marcus said, moving to the weapon rack and selecting a wooden practice dagger. "Before you can use that growth weapon effectively, you need to understand fundamental principles. Footwork, balance, breathing, and awareness."
For the next two hours, Marcus drilled me mercilessly. We didn't do anything fancy—just endless repetitions of basic movements. Step forward, strike, retreat. Pivot left, guard, counter. Again and again until my muscles screamed and sweat soaked through my shirt.
The body I'd inherited wasn't nearly as weak as I'd feared, but it was untrained, soft from months of neglect. My lungs burned, my legs trembled, and my arms felt like lead weights.
"Again," Marcus commanded, showing no mercy.
I gritted my teeth and repeated the movement, focusing on the corrections he'd hammered into me. Weight distribution. Controlled grip. Relaxed shoulders. Every repetition brought me marginally closer to proper form.
"Your form is improving," Marcus noted, watching me complete another sequence. "But you're still thinking too much. Combat isn't a dance where you have time to plan each step. You need to flow, to react instinctively."
He moved to one of the training dummies—a wooden construct roughly human-shaped. "Attack this. Don't think about technique. Just strike."
I approached the dummy with Shadow feeling comfortable in my grip despite my exhaustion. I thrust forward, aiming for where the heart would be.
"Faster," Marcus barked. "In real combat, hesitation means death."
I struck again, harder this time. Then again. And again. Each strike felt slightly more natural than the last, my body beginning to remember movements that the original Zane had never properly learned.
Finally, Marcus called a halt. "Enough. Any more and you'll injure yourself."
I collapsed onto a nearby bench, gasping for air. My whole body ached, but it was a good ache—the kind that came from actual effort, actual progress.
"You did well, Young Master," Marcus said, and I could hear genuine approval in his voice. "Better than I expected, honestly. If you maintain this dedication, you might actually have a chance at the academy exams."
"Might?" I managed between breaths.
"Three months isn't much time to overcome years of neglect," Marcus said bluntly. "But it's possible, if you're willing to work for it. There's also the matter of your Authority."
I looked up sharply. "My Authority?"
Marcus raised an eyebrow. "Yes. Have you awakened one yet? Most nobles do so by seventeen, especially those planning to attend the academy. The entrance exams heavily favor those with Authorities."
My mind raced. In the novel, Authorities were soul-bound powers, unique abilities that manifested differently in each person. They were rare in the general population, maybe one in ten thousand, but among nobles the rate was much higher due to bloodline factors and specialized training.
The protagonist Aiden had awakened his Authority, Limitless Growth, at age fifteen. Most of the major characters at the academy already had theirs.
"Not yet," I said carefully, which was true as far as I knew. I hadn't seen anything in my system interface about an Authority.
"That's... unfortunate," Marcus said diplomatically. "The academy accepts non-Authority users, but they face significant disadvantages. The difference in power between someone with an Authority and someone without one is substantial."
I knew that all too well from reading the novel. Authority users could accomplish feats that seemed impossible to normal humans. They were the elite, the powerhouses, the ones who shaped the world.
"Is there a way to awaken one?" I asked.
"There are several methods, though none are guaranteed," Marcus replied. "Extreme stress or life-threatening situations sometimes trigger awakening. Specialized meditation techniques can help, though they take months or years. Some noble families have heirloom artifacts that can stimulate the process." He paused. "The Morgenstern family should have access to such resources."
They did. The problem was that the main family had written Zane off as a failure and wouldn't waste valuable resources on him.
"I'll look into it," I said, filing the information away. If I had an Authority waiting to be awakened, I needed to find a way to trigger it.
As if responding to my thoughts, a notification blinked in my vision.
---
[TRAINING COMPLETE]
+2 Strength
+2 Agility
+2 Endurance
Basic Dagger Arts (Rank F) Acquired
Progress to Next Level: 45/100 EXP
---
"Same time tomorrow?" Marcus asked.
"Same time every day," I confirmed. "No exceptions. And Captain Marcus? Thank you for taking this seriously."
Marcus actually smiled,a rare expression that transformed his scarred face. "Just keep showing up with that same determination, Young Master. That's all the thanks I need."
As I walked back toward the mansion, my legs wobbling slightly, I saw Elise waiting by the entrance with a towel and a pitcher of water. She hurried over, concern evident on her face.
"Young Master! You're completely soaked. Let me help you—"
"I can manage," I said, but softened it with a small smile as I accepted the towel. "Thank you, Elise."
She blinked, that same surprised expression from this morning. "Of course, Young Master. Shall I prepare a bath?"
"Please. And Elise? Could you ask the other servants to meet me in the library this afternoon? I'd like to speak with everyone."
"All of us, Young Master?" She seemed genuinely shocked.
"All of you," I confirmed.
The original Zane had barely acknowledged his servants' existence beyond barking orders. But if I was going to survive in this world, I needed allies. People I could trust. And building that trust started with treating them like actual human beings.
As Elise hurried off to make preparations, I looked down at Shadow, still gripped in my hand. The blade seemed to pulse with a dark energy, almost alive.
I had three months to prepare for the academy. Three months to train, to grow stronger, to gather resources and allies. The novel's main plot wouldn't truly begin until the academy arc, which gave me time to position myself advantageously.
But I couldn't just focus on personal strength. I needed information, loyal followers, and resources. The original Zane had none of these things, which was why he'd failed so spectacularly.
I wouldn't make the same mistakes.
And if I had an Authority waiting to be awakened, well, I'd find a way to trigger it.
The tutorial boss was going off-script.
And the real game was just beginning.