The days leading up to Friday passed in a relentless, disciplined blur for Avince. His routine had become a finely tuned rhythm: mornings filled with rigorous academic classes, afternoons spent tackling assignments, and evenings dedicated to Althiel’s grueling training sessions.
The elf’s methods were as precise as they were punishing. Beneath the roaring cascade of the dungeon's waterfall, Avince faced trials meant to test not just his physical endurance but his mental resolve. The water crashed onto his shoulders like a constant hammer, forcing his muscles to adapt and his mind to focus. Despite the bruises that painted his skin and the dull ache that accompanied every movement, he refused to falter. Each drop of water felt like another piece of the foundation he was building for his future.
Althiel, though sparing with her words, had begun offering subtle nods of approval during their sessions. Though often unreadable, her occasional smirk suggested that she was pleased with his progress. “Your soul is responding quite well with this training,” she remarked one evening, her voice as steady as the flow of the waterfall. “But do not confuse progress with mastery. The path you walk requires more than strength—it demands control.”
Control? It was a word that lingered in Avince’s mind throughout the week, echoing in his thoughts as he juggled his schoolwork and training. The balance he sought between the two worlds felt precarious at times, but he had no intention of letting either slip.
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Friday arrived with an air of nervous energy as the academy’s midterm exams loomed. The testing hall was a grand space, its high ceilings adorned with intricate carvings of runes and constellations. Rows of desks stretched across the room, each one equipped with mana-infused quills and parchment that shimmered faintly in the sunlight streaming through stained-glass windows.
Avince took his seat, feeling the weight of both anticipation and preparation. The academy’s exams were known for their unique format: instead of relying solely on rote memorization or practical demonstrations, the questions were essay-based, designed to test students’ understanding and critical thinking.
The first prompt appeared on the enchanted parchment before him, the ink forming words as if guided by an invisible hand:
“Describe the role of mana channels in sustaining magical ecosystems, citing at least three historical examples of their collapse and the resulting consequences.”
Avince frowned in concentration, recalling lessons from Professor Carlson’s lectures. He began writing, his quill gliding smoothly across the page. As he worked, he couldn’t help but wonder how the professors managed to grade each essay. The sheer volume of responses must have been overwhelming. “Maybe they use enchanted grading artifacts,” he mused internally, imagining glowing crystals or runes sorting through the parchments for keywords and logic. It was either that or all the professors were somehow superhuman to grade all of these themselves.
The hours passed quickly as one complex question followed another. Some required analyzing mana theory, while others delved into ethics, combat strategy, and historical case studies. By the time the final prompt faded from his parchment, Avince felt drained but oddly satisfied. He had given each question his best effort, and a faint glimmer of confidence stirred within him.
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As the students filed out of the hall, Professor Carlson stood near the exit, addressing the crowd with his usual commanding presence. “Your dungeon practice is scheduled for next Wednesday,” he announced, his voice carrying easily over the chatter. “There will be no classes on Monday or Tuesday. Use this time to prepare yourselves.”
The declaration sparked a ripple of murmurs among the students. Carlson raised a hand, silencing them before continuing. “The practice dungeon is an academy-owned Mega Dungeon, capable of accommodating multiple groups simultaneously. You will be partnered with four other first-year students from different classes, forming teams of five. Each team will be guided by a fourth-year student.”
Avince’s curiosity was piqued. Mega Dungeons were rare and often shrouded in mystery. Carlson’s explanation only deepened his intrigue. “The dungeon features progressive enemies,” the professor explained, his tone measured. “The further you venture, the stronger the foes become. Your goal is to push as far as possible before your guide intervenes. This exercise is not just about individual skill but also teamwork and adaptability.”
The details sent a thrill through Avince. The thought of testing his abilities in a Mega Dungeon filled him with anticipation, though a hint of nerves lingered. He would need to prepare thoroughly if he hoped to succeed.
As Carlson dismissed the students, Avince couldn’t help but reflect on the timing. No classes for several days? It was undoubtedly an opportunity for students to prepare themselves, but part of him suspected it was also an excuse for the professors to focus on grading the mountain of essays from the exams. He smirked at the thought, imagining Carlson pouring over parchments with the aid of some grading artifact.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
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That evening, over dinner, Avince shared his thoughts with Erwin, who listened attentively. The dining room was warm and filled with the comforting aroma of roasted vegetables and spiced stew, a contrast to the chill of the dungeon’s waterfall that still lingered in Avince’s memory.
“I managed to schedule a meeting with the crafter,” Erwin said, breaking the silence. “It’s set for a week from now.” He paused, a note of regret creeping into his voice. “Unfortunately, it doesn’t align with your dungeon practice.”
Avince frowned slightly but nodded in understanding. “It’s bad timing, but it can’t be helped,” he said. “I’ll make do with what I have for now.”
Erwin’s expression softened, his gaze thoughtful. “You’ve been working hard, Avince. Even without new equipment, I have no doubt you’ll perform well.”
The conversation shifted as Erwin shared news from the clan. “Amyra and Ashna will be returning home tomorrow,” he said, his tone brightening. “The egg is almost ready to hatch, and the clan elders, as well as the matriarch of the clan are ecstatic. They’ve decided to fully sponsor the hatching of the egg”
Avince’s eyes widened. “That’s amazing news! How’s the bond between Amyra and the dragon egg coming along?”
Erwin nodded, pride evident in his expression. “The connection is only getting stronger. Amyra’s ability allows her to sense and nurture the dragon’s aura even while it’s still in the egg. Once it hatches, their bond will only grow stronger.”
The rest of the evening passed quietly, and on Saturday, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Amyra and Ashna arrived home. The air seemed to buzz with energy as they stepped into the house, their presence filling the space with a palpable sense of excitement.
Amyra greeted Avince with a grin, her confidence shining through. “You’ve been busy, huh?” she teased, giving him light shoulder pats.
Avince swatted her hand away, but he couldn’t hide his smile. “You’re one to talk. You’ve been off bonding with an ice dragon.”
Amyra laughed, her eyes sparkling. “It’s not as easy as it sounds. The elders have been watching my every move. But it’ll all be worth it when I bring the dragon home.”
Avince raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk on his face. “Bring it home? You already have it in your Beast Space, don’t you? Let’s see it.”
Amyra grinned, her pride evident. “Fine. But don’t touch it—it’s still adjusting.” She extended her hand, a faint icy mist swirling around her fingers. With a flash of pale light, the infant ice dragon appeared before them, its small, translucent form shimmering like freshly fallen snow. It blinked sleepily, its icy blue eyes glancing around before letting out a soft chirp.
Avince crouched down, his face lighting up. “It’s adorable,” he said, his tone full of wonder. He reached out cautiously, and to Amyra’s surprise, the dragon leaned into his touch, letting out a contented trill.
Amyra crossed her arms, mock annoyance in her voice. “Hey! Where’s the proud little beast that glared at the elders like it ruled the clan? Now you’re acting all cuddly?”
The dragon blinked at her, tilting its head innocently before nuzzling Avince’s hand again. Avince chuckled, scratching under its chin. “Looks like someone has a soft side.”
Amyra huffed, though a smile crept onto her face. “Traitor,” she muttered at the dragon, shaking her head. “You’d better not let them see this. They’d never believe me if I told them how fierce you were before.”
The dragon chirped softly, then curled up beside Avince, its icy breath forming faint frost patterns on the ground. Amyra sighed, pretending to be exasperated. “Great. Now it’s smitten with you. You’d better not steal my bond, brother.”
Avince laughed. “Don’t worry. It knows where it belongs. But you have to admit, it’s impossible not to like this little guy.”
The family spent the evening catching up, their conversations weaving between the past and the future. As they spoke, Avince felt a renewed sense of purpose. The challenges ahead no longer felt insurmountable; they were simply steps on a path he was determined to walk.
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The weekend passed in a flurry of preparation. Avince reviewed his notes from the battle classes, practiced his mana control exercises, and devised strategies for the upcoming dungeon run. Each night, he used his ability to return to the dungeon and train with Althiel. Under her unyielding gaze, he braved the punishing waterfall, pushing his endurance and refining his focus. The relentless training left his muscles aching and his mind sharper, the lessons sinking deeper with every grueling session.
Despite the weight of anticipation, the days moved swiftly. By Tuesday evening, Avince stood at the edge of the forest of the dungeon, the familiar sound of the waterfall echoing in his ears. Althiel emerged from the shadows, her expression unreadable as always.
“You’ve made progress,” she said, her voice as steady as the flow of the water. “But the true test lies ahead. Remember, strength is nothing without control. Use what you’ve gained wisely.”
Avince nodded, her words resonating with him. As he stepped into the torrent of water, the weight of the coming days pressed against him. Yet, beneath that pressure, he felt a spark of determination—a promise to himself that he would rise to the challenge, no matter what lay ahead.
Just as he was about to leave, Althiel hesitated, her usual calm expression flickering with a momentary shadow of concern. “Avince,” she said, drawing his attention. “There’s… a bit of an issue with the training. It’s not urgent, and it shouldn’t interfere with your current progress. But we’ll need to discuss it when you come back.”
Avince tilted his head, curiosity sparking in his eyes. “An issue? What kind of issue?”
Althiel waved a hand dismissively, her composure quickly returning. “Nothing that should trouble you now. Focus on the task at hand, and we’ll address it when the time comes.”
Though her words were meant to reassure, Avince couldn’t ignore the faint unease lingering in her tone. Still, he gave a firm nod, deciding to trust her judgment. Whatever the issue was, he would deal with it in due time.