Am I expected not to injure myself? Who gives sharp weaponry to someone who admitted to only using wooden sticks?

I picked up the spear. The thing weighed less than I expected, but the wood felt too thick in my hands. My fingers rested uncomfortably around the leather wrapping while I held up the solid polearm.

I don't know why I expected it to have a hollow core. This whole thing just feels unwieldy.

I walked over to the small space with a straw dummy. Someone had painted monster teeth and three eyes on the face while drawing a big red bullseye in the center of its chest.

Here goes nothing.

I stabbed. The blade punctured deep and pushed into the wood behind it. When I let go, the spear stayed fixed to the wood.

That was… interesting.

I honestly felt ridiculous trying to attack a wooden dummy seriously. Something about it felt silly, even knowing the weapon had a sharpened edge to its blade. A quick glance told me Devon hadn't watched me as he grabbed what looked like a leather belt satchel from a small crate.

I guess I'll try the axe?

After removing the spear from the wood, I placed it back on the table and picked up the axe. It felt surprisingly light but still had a weight to its head that felt good in my hand. I tried to twirl it around, only to come dangerously close to biting into my shoulder.

Let's not do that again… I doubt it'd look good if I maimed myself.

Despite my self-warning, I tried to maneuver it around my body, using quick chops at an invisible enemy. The weapon felt good in my hands, better than the spear.

I approached the dummy and raised the axe, bringing it in for a swing. My aim was to the neck, but the blade cut into the upper jaw. As I pulled it out, I watched the dummy's fabric restitch before my eyes; the six-inch extended cut disappeared, leaving the dummy undamaged.

Enchanted training dummies, of course. How silly of me to think something is normal around here.

The strangeness of everything felt like needle pricks when I least expected it. In my mind, I was swinging an axe. But I had to remind myself that I was doing so in a vast tunnel system peppered with magical doors and inhabited by werewolves.

Some things would take time to get used to. Perhaps, a long, long time to get used to.

A knot built in my stomach, and I forced myself to relax by exhaling slowly. I shimmied and loosened up my limbs before turning to the dummy.

I moved my hand closer to the head of the axe and kept my knuckles behind the beard. I tried a series of punches and flicks that left me feeling awkward, but I found the first notable difference to my body since my stats leveled up.

The movement felt good; my hand kept track of everything, and I could make micro-adjustments with each strike. It took a minute, but I lowered my hand and tried to swing again, aiming for the seam around the neck.

Stolen novel; please report.

My arm swung sharply from the right, and the blade sliced right through the side of the cloth. My strike continued as the axe pushed into the wooden stand behind it before stopping near the middle of the neck.

Aha! I did it!

"Good strike. Next time, widen your stance till your feet are about the width of your shoulders. Keep one foot slightly ahead," Devon instructed.

He observed with his arms crossed and gestured to the dummy. His tone had an authoritative edge, prompting me to retrieve the axe from the dummy. At least, I tried to. The axe head lodged firmly in the wood, and there I was, looking foolish as I struggled to pull it free.

I choked the dummy and gripped the stand while yanking the weapon out of the cut. I could feel Devon's stare as I kept my head straight. The enchanted dummy fixed itself, and I got into position.

Feet apart… Shoulder relaxed. Let's not look like an idiot.

I breathed in and held. With my axe raised, on the exhale, I chopped to my left in one fluid movement, my torso turning with the swing.

The axehead cut straight through, but at a wonky angle, so I adjusted at the last second, resulting in the blade separating the dummy's neck from its shoulders. As I watched the dummy repair itself, I looked down at the axe and smiled at my reflection in the polished metal.

That was pretty damn cool.

I turned around and gave Devon a thumbs-up. "Thank you! That felt good."

"Don't thank me. If we did things properly, you'd have several years of experience with the weapon before we sent you on a hunt," he said. His eyes narrowed, and he looked towards me but not at me. He shook his head and motioned to the table behind him. "It'll do for now. Come, grab your things. I'll show you how the belt works, and then I got one last thing to show you before we go to Neina."

The items he grabbed were relatively simple. Apparently, most of what he wanted me to take was part of a standard travelling kit for Grimms. And looking down at the items, outside of a few vials filled with different coloured liquids, it all seemed rather mundane.

He gave me a leather belt with several loops towards the side and several vials about two fingers thick to slot inside the loops. Each vial had its own use: one as a salve similar to the one Astra used on my hand, another to throw on the ground to create smoke, and a third that smelled like nothing.

"What's the third one do?" I asked as I adjusted the belt to the clean pair of pants that came with it.

"Scent eraser. A lot of beasts track through scent. Pull out the stopper, channel mana into the vial, and wait for the potion to change colour. Once it's no longer clear, douse yourself with the liquid, and you'll have a scent blocker for the next few hours."

Alright, magical potions now too. I wonder if they'll teach me how to make these.

The rest of the gear included a black-leather backpack satchel, a knife, and a leg-strapped sheath. Carrying the knife felt odd, especially given the other weaponry I saw around. But Devon insisted that a backup weapon was always a necessity.

I adjusted the belt, strapped the axe onto my hip, and tried to move around. The knife brushed my leg, so I had to readjust. The second movement test went perfectly, with nothing obstructing my body.

"So I understand we need a backup weapon and all, but why a knife if you can turn into a werewolf? I've seen several people grow claws, and Garret transformed pretty quickly. If whatever we're hunting won't fall to an axe or spear, wouldn't the dagger be even more useless?"

"Usually, the rite forces your first transformation. It helps the new hunter learn what shapeshifting feels like and helps them tap into their lore strain. You, on the other hand, don't have that experience. When the new moon arrives, we can have you temporarily induce the shift. Until then, you'll have to wai-"

He stopped and glared at me as his eyes glowed red. A low growl exited his throat, and I instinctively backed up. For a moment, he looked ready to snap at me, literally.

What the hell?

He looked away and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sorry. I forgot your lore strain isn't one of ours. We'll have to do something different to force the shift. We'll deal with that later, though. For now, follow me."

I kept silent and hesitantly followed him toward the back wall. Several swords and small weaponry dangled on hooks built into the walls, and a single torch burned on the upper right side, illuminating the dark corner.

"Do you have your emblem on?" Devon asked.

I patted my chest and felt the metal push into my shirt. "Yes. Why?"

"Good. Follow."

Okay?

He then stepped through the wall.