Abram studied Zach with a faintly amused, faintly annoyed expression. “You should change your mind now,” he said flatly. “This style isn’t what you think it is. It’s not some cheat code for victory. It’s five times the work upfront so the battle’s already won before it even starts.”
Zach crossed his arms. “I’m fine with that. Prep work doesn’t bother me.”
Abram chuckled darkly. “You say that now, but this isn’t for someone who’s lazy. It’s time-consuming. You’ll need to track, hunt, and harvest everything you’ll use—whether it’s animals, plants, minerals, and most importantly information. Not exactly the work of a coward.”
Zach arched an eyebrow, his tone light but curious. “Doesn’t sound so bad. I can just buy what I need once I start making some money.”
Abram grunted, unimpressed. “Money helps, sure, but the best results come from doing the dirty work yourself. And even with all the preparation, you’ll still need to rely on skill and timing when it matters most. This style isn’t for anyone who’d rather charge in swinging a sword and hope for the best.”
“Good,” Zach said. “I prefer fighting beasts over people anyway. More straightforward.”
“Fine. Do what you want. But I’ll wait for the moment you decide this isn’t for you.” He turned and began walking across the estate grounds. “Let’s get started.”
Zach followed, his curiosity piqued as they passed the lush gardens and winding paths. The estate’s grandeur faded slightly as they approached a secluded part of the grounds.
“So,” Zach said, breaking the silence, “what’s the first lesson?”
Abram didn’t stop walking. “We start with your physical capability. Build up your body first, then I’ll teach you to manipulate your inner self.”
They arrived at the training area, which was surprisingly empty. Abram gestured at the vast expanse of white grass and towering white trees, their bark scarred with countless sword marks. In one corner, a large storeroom stood, its door slightly ajar to reveal racks of equipment inside.
“This area’s for actual knights,” Abram explained. “Plenty of other spaces for whoever but here… this is where the real work happens.”
Zach surveyed the space, impressed by the sheer size of it. His gaze landed on one of the tallest white trees, nearly 30 meters high, its trunk streaked with blackened scars.
Abram pointed at it. “Your first task. Scale that tree. Get to the top in under 33 seconds without stopping for a break. Until you can do it, you’re not ready for the rest.”
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Zach smiled. “Easy enough.”
“Easy?” Abram scoffed, settling onto a nearby stone. He pulled a small bottle from his coat pocket, unscrewed the cap, and began mixing its contents with liquids from other vials. “Sure, go ahead, hotshot. Let’s see how easy it is.”
Zach rolled his shoulders, walked up to the base of the tree, and placed his hands on the rough bark. He glanced back to see Abram busy with his concoctions, seemingly uninterested.
Without another word, Zach launched himself upward. His movements were quick, fluid, and precise as he climbed the tree, his muscles working in sync. In just 18 seconds, he reached the top, clinging to the highest branch and calling down. “What’s next?”
Abram froze, his bottle halfway to his mouth. He looked up, squinting at the figure perched at the top of the tree. “What the—”
Zach climbed back down casually, brushing his hands off as he landed in front of Abram.
The old man blinked at him, shaking his head. “Well, no wonder she picked you,” he muttered. “You’re already good.”
“Something like that...”
Abram narrowed his eyes. “With that kind of speed and endurance, you’ve got to be using your inner self already. You feel anything? A deep, ghastly feeling in your body you can cling to?”
Zach frowned, shaking his head. “Not really.”
Abram huffed. “Hmph. Then you’ve got the raw talent, but you’re missing the key. Learning to use your inner self is straightforward—either you push yourself hard enough in combat, or you meditate until you find it. Sit still, focus, and when you feel that ghastly pull deep inside, grab it and don’t let go.”
“That’s it?” Zach asked, skeptical.
“Body’s gotta be in peak condition for it to happen,” Abram explained. “So for someone like you, it should be easy. Once you feel it, you’ll know.”
Zach nodded, thinking it over. “I’ll work on that in my free time. Let’s speed this up. I’d rather do what I can on my own and focus on what you can’t teach me anywhere else when we’re training.”
Abram shot him a sidelong glance, muttering something under his breath. “Overachievers. Always gotta complicate things.”
Zach raised an eyebrow, amused. “Is it complicated to want to learn efficiently?”
Abram groaned, waving him off. “You’re already a handful, and we’ve barely started. You sure you don’t want to just pick a simpler style? One where I don’t have to babysit you every step of the way?”
“Not happening,” Zach replied, crossing his arms. “You’re stuck with me.”
“Fantastic,” Abram deadpanned, rubbing his temples. He stood, dusting off his coat with exaggerated slowness, as if hoping Zach would miraculously change his mind and leave him alone. When that didn’t happen, he sighed heavily and continued.
“Fine. Let’s move on,” he said reluctantly. “Next lesson’s more up your alley. I’ll teach you how to make poison, dangerous gases, the works. Everything starts with finding the right ingredients—plants, animals, minerals. After that, it’s all about preserving and mixing them properly. And, of course, knowing how to store them.”
Zach’s interest piqued immediately. “Sounds like a challenge. The mixing part shouldn’t be too hard, but finding the ingredients? That’s the part I’m interested in.”
Abram chuckled, his tone dark and amused. “Oh, it’s not just about finding them. It’s about knowing where to look, what’s worth harvesting, and what’ll kill you if you handle it wrong. You’ll need patience, smarts, and an eye for detail. Think you’re up for it?”
“Except for the kill me part, I'm up for it.”