Tyler's eyes fluttered open, met by the morning light. He sat up, a familiar ache absent from his muscles. He could move, a pleasant surprise, though a slight exhaustion lingered. It wasn't the intense, crippling soreness he usually felt after training; it seemed his body was adapting, the training becoming progressively easier. He muttered, "Status," and the system's familiar status menu shimmered into existence before his eyes.

SPECIES: Human

NAME: Tyler Evans

RANK: F LVL: 13

CLASS: Craftsman

HP: 56/56 MP: 51/51

STR: 47 AGI: 41 DEF: 57

STM: 29

STATUS: Slight Exhaustion

Skills: Armour Craft, Weapon Craft, Weapon Mastery

Tyler was surprised to see he'd leveled up twice, but a wave of slight disappointment followed. It was only two levels this time. The first time he'd trained, he'd gained three levels, then four. He vaguely recalled George mentioning that leveling up through training became progressively harder with each increase in level, and it made sense. This training felt easier than before. Still, he was pleased to have reached level 13. That meant he could finally equip the copper daggers he'd crafted, requiring level 12.

Tyler said, "Equip daggers," and the copper daggers materialized in his hands. He held one in each hand, their surfaces gleaming in the morning light filtering through the window. They looked incredible, the edges razor sharp. He examined them, wondering about their attack power. A small box appeared beside the daggers, displaying the stats: ATK: 44 + 7% Speed. Tyler was surprised. The attack power was surprisingly high.

“Plus 7% speed?” Tyler murmured to himself, his fingers tracing the elegant curve of a copper dagger’s hilt. The cool metal felt smooth and satisfying beneath his touch. He ran a thumb along the sharpened edge, a thrill of accomplishment coursing through him. They were beautiful, a testament to his burgeoning skills. He examined them closely, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. He was wondering about the daggers' stats, particularly their attack power. He considered the implications of a direct hit: with his current HP at 56, and the daggers boasting a formidable 44 ATK, would a single strike leave him with only 12 HP, or would it kill him outright? He carefully stored the weapons in his inventory; a soft, light-blue shimmer marked their disappearance.

He threw back his blankets, the crisp morning air a welcome contrast to the warmth of his bed. He stretched languidly, yawning widely, the satisfying crackle of his joints a pleasant sound. A deep sense of accomplishment settled over him, a feeling both unfamiliar and intensely satisfying. It wasn't just the successful crafting of the daggers; it was the tangible evidence of his progress, his growing strength.

Then, a sharp question pierced the comfortable quiet of the morning. "Wait," he mused. "Does Grone know I'm an F-rank?" He pushed open his bedroom door and stepped into the sitting room.

The sitting room was unusually quiet, lacking the usual morning sounds of Grone's wife, Lisa, and her baby's occasional cries. Tyler decided to head to the room on the right, Grone and Lisa's bedroom – a room he'd never entered before. He raised his hand to knock, and a moment later heard Grone's muffled groan followed by, "Yeah, I'll be right out."

Tyler went to sit at the table, waiting for Gron to emerge. Gron eventually appeared, but instead of his usual armor, he was dressed in ordinary clothes—a sight Tyler had never witnessed before. He'd assumed Gron changed into comfortable sleeping attire in his bedroom, a room always kept closed and off-limits to Tyler. "Good morning," Tyler said.

"Good morning," Gron replied, sitting down at the table.

"Oh yeah," Tyler began, "I wanted to tell you something. I've reached F-rank," Tyler finished.

Grone sat down at the table. "Oh, you've reached F-rank? When did that happen?"

"When I woke up yesterday, I found out I'd leveled up a lot," Tyler explained. "And then, after training yesterday, I woke up this morning and found I'd gained two more levels. I'm actually level 13 now."

Grone looked surprised. Tyler's leveling up speed was impressive; he'd gained many levels in just a few days of training. But it wasn't entirely unexpected. He was still just beginning his journey.

"That's good," Grone said. "The problem is, I don't think you're going to level up much with just training anymore."

"Yeah, I figured that out," Tyler replied. "I only gained two levels yesterday. If I train again today, I don't even know if I'll level up at all. Maybe one level, or maybe none."

"We could improve your training," Grone offered.

"Really? But how?" Tyler asked, intrigued.

"You just have to carry a bigger bag," Grone stated simply.

"A bigger bag?" Tyler questioned, confused.

"Yeah," Grone confirmed. "Since today's my day off, I'm going to have to train you again."

"Really? That's great. I don't really know what to do anymore. This training was getting easier," Tyler admitted.

"Yeah, so let me change, and then we can head out," Grone said.

"Wait, but your wife isn't here yet," Tyler pointed out.

"No worries," Grone replied. "I'll just lock the door and leave the key where she can find it."

Tyler went to clean his teeth and wash his face. When he returned, Grone was ready, and they headed out.

They went straight to the market. Grone carried a much larger leather bag than the one Tyler had used for carrying rocks during his previous training. They reached the waiting wagons by the gate. Grone paid two copper coins, instructing the driver to take them only a short distance outside the town. The driver obliged, and soon they arrived near their usual training area, where they disembarked.

Tyler followed Grone to the training area. Grone tossed the large leather bag to Tyler. "Here, catch," he said. "I want you to put all these stones in this bag, lift it, and then we'll do what we always do."

Tyler happily began filling the bag, one stone at a time, until all the stones that hadn't fit in his smaller bag were inside. When he lifted it, he felt a surge of surprise. "Whoa," he breathed. He could actually lift it, but it was incredibly heavy.

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"That bag weighs more than 50kg," Grone stated. "I'd estimate around 75, I think."

Tyler, surprised by the weight, managed a, "Oh, um, yeah, that makes sense."

"Okay, it's time to run," Grone instructed. "I want you to run to that tree and back ten times. I'll wait here for you."

Tyler's surprise was evident. Ten times? He let out a sigh, then started running. The heavy bag strained his back, but he persevered. His agility and strength had increased with each level-up, making the task less arduous than it might have been.

He ran, and ran, and ran, each trip to the tree and back a grueling test of endurance. He touched the tree, turned, and ran back to Grone, who sat resting against the tree, calmly cleaning his silver sword with a brown cloth. Tyler touched the tree again, and again he ran, the exertion beginning to take its toll. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he completed his tenth run. With a groan, he removed the heavy bag, letting it fall to the ground with a loud thud. Tyler fell to his knees, gasping for breath.

"Ah, you're done," Grone observed. "So, are you ready to train with the sword?"

Tyler swallowed hard. "Yeah, I think I can do that." He stood up, groaning slightly. A silver sword materialized in his hand.

"Shall we see how far you've improved?" Grone asked, adopting a fighting stance. Tyler mirrored the stance Grone had taught him. A system message popped up, satisfying Tyler's curiosity about Grone's level. He was astonished to see that Grone was level 54.

Another system message appeared before Tyler: Weapon Mastery Activated. He hadn't initiated it; it had activated on its own.

The fight began. Grone moved with a deceptive grace, his silver blade a blur. Tyler, initially overwhelmed, found himself reacting instinctively. Grone's footfalls, usually imperceptible, were now clear in Tyler's mind, each step telegraphing his opponent's intent. He blocked a swift downward strike, the impact jarring but not painful. He parried a thrust aimed at his chest, the cold steel of Grone's sword brushing against his own. He was surprised by his own ability to anticipate Grone's movements, a skill seemingly granted by the newly activated Weapon Mastery. He was reading Grone like an open book, predicting his attacks with an uncanny accuracy.

Grone, however, was far more experienced. He feinted left, then right, drawing Tyler off balance. With a sudden, powerful lunge, Grone's blade connected with Tyler's, not with the force of a blow, but with a precise, calculated strike that sent Tyler's sword spinning from his grasp. It clattered harmlessly to the ground. Grone stood poised, his sword held loosely at his side, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. Tyler stared, breathless but unharmed, marveling at his own newfound skills and the superior mastery of his trainer.

"You've gotten really good at this," Grone commented. "Have you been training this well while I wasn't around?"

"Yeah, I kind of have," Tyler replied. "It's probably because of a new skill I got."

"Huh?" Grone questioned, intrigued.

"I have a skill called Weapon Mastery," Tyler explained. "It seems I can master any weapon I touch simply by training with it. It makes mastering techniques much easier."

"When did you get that skill?" Grone asked.

"Yesterday, I think," Tyler replied.

"Huh, that's not a bad skill," Grone mused. "It's not the first time I've heard of it. Some people have it, but it's rare. You're pretty lucky."

Tyler's face crimsoned slightly. He wasn't used to being called lucky; he didn't believe he had luck. "I'm alright," he mumbled.

"Okay, pick up your sword, and let's do this again," Grone said. "I'm going to teach you the next step of basic sword training, alright?"

"Of course," Tyler replied. Surprisingly, the sword that had fallen to the ground vanished and reappeared in his hand.

"That's a pretty neat trick you got there," Grone said, impressed by Tyler's ability to instantly acquire his sword. "It could be very useful in many situations."

"Yeah," Tyler agreed.

"Right, you've grasped the basics," Grone said, sheathing his sword. "But parrying... that's the real test. It's not just about blocking; it's about controlling the fight. Let me show you."

He drew his sword again, the silver gleaming in the sunlight. "Watch closely." He moved with fluid grace, demonstrating a series of parries – a high parry deflecting a downward strike, a low parry redirecting an upward thrust, a counter-parry turning an attack against the attacker. With each movement, he emphasized the importance of a strong grip. "See this? A firm grip, not tense, but firm. It's the foundation of everything. A weak grip, and the blade twists; you lose control, you're open."

He paused, sheathing his sword. "Now, you try. I'll attack, you parry. Focus on the grip, your stance, anticipating my movements. Don't just react; predict."

Grone resumed his stance, his eyes sharp and assessing. "Ready?" He launched a series of attacks – a swift thrust, a deceptive feint, a powerful overhead slash. Tyler, initially overwhelmed, struggled. His parries were weak, his timing off. Grone's blade found openings, forcing Tyler to retreat.

Grone stopped, sheathing his sword. "Again. This time, focus on the grip. Feel the weight of the blade. Let your body move as one unit. Anticipate, don't react."

The second attempt showed improvement. Tyler managed a few successful parries but still lacked precision and control. Grone continued coaching, correcting his stance, grip, timing, until, on the third attempt, Tyler found his rhythm. He parried Grone's attacks with increasing confidence, his movements smoother, more precise. A hint of a smile played on Grone's lips. "Much better. Now we're getting somewhere."

Tyler examined his silver iron sword. The blade showed signs of wear; not cracked, but battered, its endurance clearly diminishing. Hector had been right; this sword wasn't built for extended use. He wondered if his daggers would have similar affected.

"So, can we continue?" Tyler asked Grone.

"Yeah," Grone replied. "I'll teach you a bit more."

"Grone, I was wondering... how much are you holding back?" Tyler asked, a hesitant note in his voice.

Grone paused, a thoughtful expression on his face. "What do you mean?"

"Well," Tyler explained, "your rank is so much higher than mine. I can tell I'm picking up some of your moves and techniques, but I'm curious how much you're actually holding back."

Grone scratched his head. "Don't worry about that. Honestly, if I used my full strength against someone at your level right now, you'd probably be completely demotivated. I wouldn't want to go there. Just focus on your training, focus on becoming stronger."

"Okay, are you going to teach me more about parrying?" Tyler asked.

"You'd be surprised," Grone replied, "but I've taught you almost everything about basic parrying, and you've got it down. It's probably because of that skill you have. What was it called again? Ah yes, Weapon Mastery."

"Yeah," Tyler said.

"That's a very reliable skill," Grone commented. "You're adapting to the sword at an incredible rate. Learning to parry effectively usually takes weeks, maybe even a month. You did it in a day."

Tyler was surprised. To him, it had felt like a struggle at first, but it had become progressively easier with each attempt. The more he practiced, the more natural the movements felt.

"Okay, what I'm about to teach you might be difficult," Grone said, "but bear with me. Let's both sit down." He settled into the lotus position. "Now you do the same."

Tyler comfortably assumed the lotus position, mirroring Grone's posture.

"Good," Grone said. "Now, I'm going to teach you how to channel your mana."

Tyler's curiosity was piqued. He'd always seen his MP in his status menu, but it never seemed to decrease, and he had no idea how to actually use it.

Grone instructed, "Close your eyes. Focus on the feeling of your body. Feel every muscle, every sensation. Feel everything about your physical form."

Tyler closed his eyes, but it wasn't easy. Grone continued, "If you close your eyes, do not think about anything else. Do not reminisce. Just focus on your body. Think about it; focus your whole mind and thoughts on the feeling of your body. I want you to feel the center of your chest and concentrate there."

Tyler concentrated, but his mind wandered; it was harder than he anticipated to completely still his thoughts.

Then, a soft, rhythmic thump, like a heartbeat, resonated within him. It was a strange, unfamiliar sensation. Tyler gasped, quickly standing up.

Grone, startled, asked, "Oh, what's wrong?"

"Um, I don't know," Tyler said, breathless. "What the hell was that just now?"

Grone smiled knowingly. "That's what we call mana. I told you I'd teach you how to channel it. Don't worry about it. Just sit down."

Tyler looked at Grone for a moment, then slowly sat back down in the lotus position, closing his eyes, a mixture of apprehension and curiosity swirling within him.

He soon found himself focusing on his whole body again, then the center of his chest, and then he felt it again—that strange, unfamiliar sensation. It was completely alien, yet somehow familiar. He couldn't quite describe it; it felt like a gas, a fire, but not a burning fire—no ache, no pain. It was intangible, moving within him, like a strange, symbiotic parasite, something both alien and integral to his being. It felt like energy, pure and potent, yet he couldn't fully grasp its nature. The sensation itself, not just the rhythm, was entirely new to him.

Grone asked, "Do you feel it?"

"Yeah," Tyler replied.

"Okay," Grone said. "That, as I told you earlier, we call mana. It's a power inherent to you. It's both physical and not physical at the same time. It's a part of your body, like your hand or your eye. But at the same time, it's like the air you breathe—it enters your body, becomes a part of you for a time, and then leaves. Mana is similar; it's within you, a part of you, yet also something you can control and manipulate."

"I understand," Tyler said, his eyes still closed.

"Good," Grone said. "Now, I want you to learn to control that mana. You can feel it, right? You can feel it moving within you, but it's stagnant. I want you to help that mana flow. I want you to guide it."

"Um, okay, but how do I do that?" Tyler asked.

"Just like a baby learns to control its limbs and hands," Grone explained, "I want you to learn to control your mana as if you were a newborn, learning to move for the first time. Feel it, guide it, let it flow."

Tyler began to feel the mana differently now. It felt like a fire within him, but a fire he could control, guiding its flow like wind guiding flames. He felt it begin to spread, enveloping his abdomen. His breathing became unstable.

Grone's voice was calm and reassuring. "You should learn to relax while doing this. Relax; it's your first time."

"Okay, I want you to let this mana envelop your whole body. Can you do that?" Grone asked.

"I can try," Tyler replied, his eyes remaining closed.

He focused, and felt the mana surge outwards, spreading from his abdomen to his chest, then down through his legs and into his feet. He felt it flow into his arms, up to his shoulders, and finally, into his head, a wave of warmth washing over his mind. It was an indescribable feeling, strangely peaceful. Then, a text box appeared before his eyes, causing him to open them in surprise.

The system message displayed: Achievement Unlocked: Inner Peace: Mana +5

Tyler's eyes gleamed a faint blue for a moment as his body was enveloped in his mana aura. Grone opened his eyes and said, "I think you did it, kid. Now you know how to channel your mana."

Tyler looked at his hands. "So this is mana," he murmured, feeling the energy within him, though it wasn't visibly emanating from his body. His eye color returned to normal; Grone apparently hadn't noticed the brief change. Looking at his hands again, Tyler said, "This feels incredible."