Bane donned the combat training clothes specially tailored for him, a snug and flexible uniform designed to ensure unrestricted movements during practice. Clad in this new attire, he set out for the training yard, a place he had visited on his first day there but had not step foot in since.

In the days leading up to this moment, he had been informed that he would begin learning basic combat skills to build a stronger foundation for his skills and to prepare him for the academy.

As he strolled to the training yard, he grabbed a banana from his table and savored its sweetness along the way. Arriving at the vast training grounds, he found himself there ten minutes early, giving him the opportunity to observe the various warriors engaged in their rigorous drills and sparring sessions.

The training yard was an expansive area, large enough to accommodate twenty rugby fields. Numerous individuals were scattered across the grounds, each honing their unique abilities. He watched as mages unleashed spells upon their opponents, only to have them deflected by countering spells. Aura users brandished their weapons, expertly manipulating their elemental enhancements to overpower their sparring partners.

Among the fighters, Bane noticed the same boy he had seen on his first day, training alongside the swordsman. Their fight seemed to be more intense than the first time. The synergy between the oversized rock lizard and the boy had seemed to increase, while the man still seemed as lax as ever while fighting the duo.

As he watched the battles unfold, Bane's heart raced with anticipation. Soon, he would join them, training and refining his skills in preparation for the journey ahead.

"Hey, slum boy," a hoarse voice ran through the air.

Bane turned around once hearing this and regarded the man he saw skeptically, unsure of what to make of his appearance and rough demeanor. The man's hoarse voice had an air of authority, but his unkempt hair, tattered clothing, and strong alcoholic smell gave him an aura of disarray. The giant greatsword on his back only added to his imposing figure, standing at an impressive height of three meters, dwarfing even the massive blade. Despite his obscured facial features, the man's bulging muscles were apparent, giving the impression of a formidable warrior.

"No need for hostility, slum boy," the man continued, stepping forward with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I'll be the one in charge of training you for the next month."

"A homeless swordsman," is what came to Bane's mind once he fully summarized the man.

Bane lowered his guard slightly, curiosity replacing some of his cautious behavior. The man's appearance was unconventional for a trainer, but there was an air of experience about him that intrigued Bane.

"Good morning, sir," Bane said, bowing respectfully. "My name is Bane, my family name is unknown, and the only weapon I've ever used is a short-bladed weapon."

The man gave a nod of acknowledgment, a faint smile playing on his weathered face. "Short blade, eh? A nimble and precise choice. I like that. It means you'll need to rely on speed and agility to outmaneuver your opponents."

"I mean I didn't really have the pleasure of choosing what weapon I wanted to use,' said Bane jokingly. "I stole a short blade from a thug when I took on a job for some group of thieves,"

The man chuckled, his deep voice echoing with the clashing of battle in the background. "Ah, resourcefulness, a valuable skill in its own right. Sometimes it's not the weapon that matters, but how you use it.

After a short pause, the man continued, "The name's Garrik," he said, thumping his chest with a large hand. "Garrik the Wanderer, they call me. As for why I'm going to be your trainer, well, let's just say I enjoy abusing green beans like you, and I had to do a favor for my old buddy Eston."

Bowing, Bane spoke out, "thank you, sir, for taking the time out to train someone such as I."

Garrik grunted, "Don't think I'm doing this out of charity, boy. You've got potential, and I don't want you dragging down my friend's name. You better show some progress, or I'll see to it that your life in the academy becomes hell."

Bane nodded earnestly, determined to prove himself to his new trainer. "I won't disappoint you, sir. I'll give it my all."

"I hate dilly-dallying, so we'll begin with lesson one," the man continued, "to wield a weapon, you need a strong body first, you beanstalk."

Bane listened intently.

"So, you will not be using a weapon for our first week of training, depending on how well you do, you can shorten that time."

"What will I need to do, master," replied Bane enthusiastically.

Garrik smiled, "you sly boy, calling me master already. Ass lickers don't gain brownie points, you know."

Bane apologized once more.

"Never mind that. This week we'll be strengthening those scrawny legs of yours with my favorite exercise… the barbarian squat."

"I've never done any exercise in my life, master, so I don't know how to do that."

Garrik looked Bane up and down, "well, clearly you haven't exercised a day in your life, weak slum boy."

"Listen up, boy. For the barbarian squat, you'll be holding this heavy short stick behind your back. Then, you squat down and pull the stick over your head at the same time. It's a grueling exercise that will toughen those weak legs of yours. Don't expect it to be easy, but if you want to wield a weapon, you need to build a strong foundation first." Garrik's voice carried a mix of sternness and authority, making it clear that he meant business.

Bane ran the words spoken by Garrik through his head, analyzing it like he would soon be building a puzzle, “could I get a quick demonstration please, teacher?” He asked, suddenly. Garrik pulled out his greatsword, a weapon that seemed to weigh even more than the bulky man himself.

Garrik let out a hearty chuckle, amused by Bane's eagerness. He hoisted his greatsword with one hand, a feat that showcased his immense strength. With a powerful swing, he performed the barbarian squat effortlessly, squatting down and then bringing the sword over his head in one fluid motion.

"See that, boy? That's how it's done. Now it's your turn," Garrik said, handing Bane the heavy short stick. "Don't worry about getting it right on the first try. It takes time and practice to master this exercise. Just focus on the technique, and don't let that stick overpower you."

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Bane nodded, taking a deep breath to steady himself. He positioned the stick behind his back and crouched down, struggling slightly under the weight. With a determined expression, he slowly stood up, pulling the stick over his head as he did. It was clear that he was putting in the effort, but it was far from perfect.

"Good start, boy," Garrik encouraged. "Keep practicing, and your body will adapt. Remember, becoming strong takes time and dedication. Now, do it again."

And so, Bane continued to practice the barbarian squat under Garrik's watchful eye, determined to improve and prove himself as a worthy student. The days of intense training and perseverance lay ahead, and Bane was ready to face them with unwavering resolve.

For the next hour, Bane struggled with the barbarian squat, trying to mimic Garrik's previous movements. The heavy stick became a burden in his hands, and he could barely lift it over his head. His legs trembled as he attempted to squat down, and the strain in his muscles was evident.

Each time he tried, his legs screamed in protest, and his arms felt like they were about to give out. It was a battle of willpower, with Bane pushing himself to the limit, determined to master this exercise. The pain was overwhelming, but he refused to give up.

Garrik watched closely, offering occasional guidance and encouragement. "Keep your back straight, boy! Don't let that stick drag you down. Engage your core and use your legs to lift it," he advised.

Despite the pain and the exhaustion, Bane continued to push through... Slowly, with each attempt, he started to improve. The movements became easier to do, and he could feel his muscles getting used to the exercise.

But the soreness remained, and as the hours passed, his legs felt like jelly, and his arms were on fire. Each squat became a struggle, and yet Bane didn't relent. He was determined to prove himself to Garrik and to himself.

At the end of the training session, Bane collapsed onto the ground, panting heavily and covered in sweat. His body ached all over, and he knew that the next day would bring even more pain. But he also felt a sense of accomplishment, knowing that he had given his all in his first training session with Garrik.

As he lay there, catching his breath, Garrik approached and clapped a hand on Bane's shoulder. "Not bad, boy," he said with a gruff smile. "You've got potential, but there's still a long way to go. Rest up now, tomorrow will be even tougher."

Bane nodded, his determination unwavering. He knew that this was just the beginning of his journey to becoming a skilled fighter. With Garrik as his teacher, he was confident that he would get there.

As bane lay on the floor Garrik threw a box onto his chest, causing him to become winded.

“What’s this, master?” Bane asked, staring at the ordinary box, that didn’t seem to hold anything special. “Recovery pills, take them before you sleep, and your body will return to its peak condition. This eliminates the need for rest days, as the pills speed up your body’s healing process.”

Bane barely being able to lift his arms, thanked his teacher, and fell asleep from pure exhaustion.

“I’m surprised you could even do this drill for five hours straight, boy,” Garrik whispered to the now sleeping boy. “What amazing willpower that helped you push past your body's limits continuously, even if you didn’t have potential in combat, your willpower alone would’ve made you a formidable opponent.” Garrik picked Bane, and the box, up and took him to his room where he laid him gently on the bed, “you better get some good rest because tomorrow will be tougher.”

***

Back in Eston's office, Garrik recounted Bane's first day of training while taking a big swig of his alcoholic beverage.

"The first day went well, I made him do the barbarian squat," Garrik said.

Eston was curious, "How long did he last doing the barbarian squat?"

"Five," Garrik replied.

"Five minutes?"

"No, five hours!" Garrik shouted, clearly feeling the effects of the alcohol.

Eston was impressed, "Hmm, that's truly impressive. His physical endurance is on the level of a genius."

"Not just that," Garrik continued, "he collapsed many times but got up and continued. His mental strength is extraordinary. If he awakens as a mage, his potential would be limitless. God forbid he awakens as a dominion seeker; he'll surely become even stronger than you, my old friend."

Garrik took another heavy gulp from his bottle.

Eston was intrigued, "What made you come to this conclusion, Garrik?"

Banging the bottle on the desk, Garrik explained, "The barbarian squat is not just physically taxing but mentally as well. Your body is screaming at you to stop, and your mind is begging you to stop, but if you continue, how strong do you have to be mentally to keep going even when your body and mind alike are begging you to stop?"

Eston pondered this new insight, "So by making the boy do the barbarian squat, you actually measured his potential?"

"Yeah, it's a trick I learned with time as I trained these little string beans, and it never fails me," Garrik replied.

Eston took note of the information and wrote it down, "Interesting, I'll start implementing that when we train our new recruits."

Garrik inquired, "When will you awaken the boy?"

"I was thinking about doing it tomorrow, so that you can train him accordingly. I'll give you some money, so if he needs magic tomes, you can buy him one, or you can get him a blade at the blacksmith if he doesn't awaken as a mage," Eston explained.

Garrik burst out laughing, "I see you completely ignoring the idea of him becoming a dominion seeker."

Eston remained realistic, "I'm just being realistic; becoming a dominion seeker would be but a dream for him."

Garrik raised an interesting point, "And if he does become one?"

"Then you bring him back to me immediately, and I'll guide him myself," Eston declared.

Garrik's euphoria halted for a moment, "Personal training from one of the best dominion seekers in the kingdom? You're truly ready to spoil this slum boy, aren't you?"

"When there is potential, it is my job to raise it for the sake of the kingdom, and that's all there is to it," Eston responded sternly.

Garrik couldn't help but ask, "Do you perhaps…pity the boy?"

Eston turned toward the window, "And if I do?"

"There's nothing wrong with it. Just don't let your personal feelings blind you from seeing sense. You don't want a repeat of what happened last time, do you?" Garrik warned.

"Bane isn't like that, so I don't think it'll ever happen. Don't worry, my friend, this is a worthy investment," Eston assured him.

"If you say so, old friend," Garrik replied.

***

The sun had begun to set when Bane stirred awake. He had slept for four hours before waking up after his five-hour training session, but the moment he opened his eyes, the memories of today's grueling training flooded back. His body felt heavy and sore, and he knew he had pushed himself past his limits.

Because his body had been so sore, Bane closed his eyes, letting his mind drift to thoughts of the barbarian squat. A vivid image of Garrik started to form in his mind, and slowly it transformed into the actual Garrik. In his mind's eye, Garrik raised his arms, holding the greatsword that usually hung on his back, and then he began to perform the squat, lowering the sword as he went down.

For the next thirty minutes, Bane watched the mental image of Garrik performing the barbarian squat. Today was his first-ever combat-related lesson, and he wanted to take the most out of its teachings, so he observed every move Garrik made, down to the way he breathed.

Finally, Bane opened his eyes and breathed out a huge sigh of relief. Sweat dripped off his body as if he had been the one doing the squats instead of just watching the mental image.

"I think I got it now," Bane said, trying to get out of bed. However, as his feet touched the ground, his legs gave in, and he fell over with a loud thump.

Shortly after the thump, the same maid who had assisted Bane on his first day rushed into the room. She had become Bane's personal maid and second friend, but her name remained a mystery to him because he never asked. Bane wasn't accustomed to making friends on his own and was unfamiliar with the customs involved.

The maid scolded him as she helped him back onto the bed, "First, you push yourself in the library to the point where you fall asleep at your desk, and now you push yourself physically. You're so irresponsible, Bane. I can't look after you forever."

She fetched some nutritious food and fed Bane to aid in his recovery. "Please don't push yourself so hard. Watching you for the past month has been hell for me. I know you're not on the same level as your peers, but you need to look after yourself. When you need to stop, please stop."

Bane nodded, chewing the succulent meat in his mouth.

After feeding him, she helped him change and wiped down his body with a wet cloth. "I can only help you until the day you leave for the academy, so please, you can depend on me, but don't hurt yourself this much."

After saying this, the maid left.

As Bane lay there, he thought, "She's one of the kindest persons I've met in my life." Memories of his life in the slums flashed through his mind. He had come a long way and would forever be thankful to the Ironstalker family.

He popped the recovery pill into his mouth and soundly fell asleep.