Today was the last day of training for the week, and the platoon was buzzing with excitement for their one day off tomorrow. Farron had everyone seated this time, forming a horseshoe around the stump, which was unusual. She wasn’t that tall and seemed to want to make sure everyone could see. She addressed the crowd, “Earlier in training, you all learned about potions, and now it’s time for a little practical application.”
She reached into a pouch on the stump and pulled out three vials: one red, one green, and one blue. Kaiden smirked at the sight. There wasn’t a gamer on Earth who didn’t know what those colors meant. But here, on Aterra—where there were no video games, much less electricity—they’d needed a full class session just to explain these items.
Farron went over the vials as a refresher for anyone who might have forgotten. “Red is for health, blue for mana, and green for stamina. Now,” Farron continued, “can anyone tell me what these vials are made of and what special properties they have?”
A few hands shot up, but Farron picked out a Striker with brown hair. “Private 9.”
“It’s made out of managlass, Sergeant,” he said. “Its special property is that it’s extremely sturdy but shatters easily when you feed a drop of mana into it.”
“Very good,” Farron said, nodding. “And what else? There’s one more thing.”
The private hesitated. “It... dissolves?”
Instead of answering, Farron smirked, her eyes lighting up with the hint of a plan. “How about a demonstration, then?” She glanced around, and the trainees shifted in their seats, a few looking nervous. “I’ll need one volunteer—someone strong and sturdy.”
Every hand that had been raised shot back down like lightning, and no new ones went up. Well, almost none. Davick’s hand stayed raised, the poor bastard looking thrilled at the chance to interact with Sergeant Farron.
I have a bad feeling about this, Kaiden thought.
“Ah, very good. Private Two, get up here,” Farron said, and her look was as predatory as a hawk zeroing in on prey. Davick strolled up to her, grinning like an idiot. Standing next to Farron, who Kaiden guessed was about 5'7", Davick looked like a mountain at 6'2" or so.
Farron turned to him. “Now, Private Two, attack me.”
Davick blinked. “Attack you, Sergeant? I’m not sure I understand?”
“Attack me. Any way you want. Punch, kick, just try to touch me anywhere.”
‘Touch me anywhere.’ must’ve been the trigger because immediately Davick’s grin took on a new meaning, and Kaiden tried not to facepalm as his friend’s eyes lit up.
“Aye, Sergeant,” Davick replied, and he rushed her, arms outstretched, clearly aiming for some kind of bear hug. Farron moved like a flash, her foot shooting up to meet Davick’s face. Her kick connected hard, sending him crashing backward, clutching his nose, blood streaming from between his fingers.
“Fuck!” he yelled, his voice muffled by his hands.
Farron straightened, calm as ever, and turned to the platoon, who were all staring in stunned silence. “Since Private Two had foolishly attacked me, I was forced to defend myself,” she said flatly, as if that settled everything.
More jaws dropped. Was she serious? Apparently. She continued without missing a beat. “Luckily, we have a healing potion.” She walked over to Davick, giving him a light kick to get his attention. “Stand up, Private Two, and drink this.”
Davick rose, blood still running down his face, and took the vial, downing it in one go. In real time, they all watched as his nose reset itself, the cut healing and the blood flow stopping. His face was still streaked with blood, but the potion’s effectiveness was unmistakable.
Farron addressed the platoon, her voice steady and matter-of-fact. "As you can see, a standard healing potion can handle minor wounds—cuts, slashes, and small gashes. But be aware that some injuries may require more than one potion, while others simply won’t heal without a much stronger potion… and there are wounds even the strongest potions can’t fix." She looked around at everyone, her expression grim. “I hope no one here ever has to find out which.”
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She turned back to Davick. "Now, Private Two, feed a drop of mana into the empty vial and shatter it on the stump.”
Davick followed her instructions. He focused, let a small pulse of mana flow into the vial, and tossed it onto the stump. It shattered instantly, the managlass fragments dissolving into a cascade of crystal motes that caught the sunlight, twinkling as they drifted upward.
Farron stepped closer, raising her hand just above the glowing particles. Slowly, the motes shifted and gathered into her palm, disappearing one by one as she absorbed them. "When managlass shatters, it reverts to raw mana, which you can absorb directly into your mana pool. Don’t ever skip this step. Topping off your mana in a dungeon is essential; even a few extra points could mean the difference between life and death."
Kaiden nodded. He’d played enough video games on Earth to know the feeling firsthand of an empty mana pool at a critical moment. Not having enough mana for a skill you needed was a surefire way to end up dead.
For some reason, it always bothered him in fantasy shows, anime, or movies when a character drank a potion and then threw the bottle or vial on the ground, leaving it to shatter. What was the point of leaving broken glass all over the floor? He knew it was probably something no one else cared about or gave a second thought, but for Kaiden, it was always on his mind. Pretty much every fantasy world was littered with shards of glass… except this one!
Farron looked at Davick and said, "Now go away."
Davick quietly returned to his spot in formation, and Farron continued with the lesson: “Now, because potions can essentially be your lifeline, they will be the sole responsibility of the Bracer to hold and to use. We can’t risk front-line fighters holding onto these and having them break. Managlass is strong, but far from indestructible.”
Private Liana Drever raised her hand, and Farron stared at her for a few seconds, trying to recall her number. “Uhhh, Private 16, go ahead.”
Kaiden’s Mindforge-boosted memory worked well enough to know she was actually Private 14—probably a waste of his skill, but he was still trying to level it up. And her number didn’t matter, no one was dumb enough to correct the sergeant. There was no point in do so, which could incur her wrath or get you the Davick treatment.
“It’s Private Fourteen, Sergeant.”
A few visible gulps rippled through the platoon. Well, I stand corrected. She’s got balls, Kaiden thought. Although Liana corrected Farron, she had done it with any hint of snark or malice. She was simply stating a fact that the sergeant said the wrong number.
Farron glared for a second before saying, “Alright, Private 14, what is it?” The platoon collectively exhaled in relief as Liana continued. No punishment then.
“Can Casters carry potions if they have a bag of holding?”
“Good question, Private. With a dimensional bag or bag of holding, anyone can carry potions without worrying about breaking them. But,” she added, “they’re still best in the Bracer’s hands. As a Caster, Defender, or Striker, your job is to fight. There will be times you’re under such heavy pressure, you won’t have a free hand to reach for a potion. That’s what the Bracer is for.”
Many heads nodded, absorbing her explanation. Kaiden, meanwhile, was thrilled at the existence of dimensional bags here in Aterra—bags capable of storing far more than they appeared to hold. The insides expanded into something like a pocket dimension or maybe they warped space or something. He wasn’t exactly sure what the correct description for how they worked. He just knew that they allowed you to carry many things unencumbered and gave easy access to anything inside.
Liana spoke up again, “But, Sergeant, if I don’t have a free hand to reach into my bag, how am I going to have a free hand to drink a potion?”
That got some murmurings of agreement from the platoon until Farron let out a small chuckle. “I need a volunteer,” she said, scanning the group. After seeing Davick’s last “volunteering,” no one raised their hand. No one, that was, except Davick himself, albeit much slower this time.
“Ah, Private Two again,” she said. “You sure?”
“Yes, Sergeant,” Davick answered, sounding a little unsure.
Farron’s voice turned sharp. “Private Two, give me one lap at top speed. Sprint the entire way.”
Davick’s eyes widened. “Aye, Sergeant,” he replied, taking off like a spooked deer, running as if his life depended on it.
A few moments of silence hung in the air as everyone watched Davick sprint away before Farron continued, her voice steady. “You’ll be provided with one dimensional bag per party of four. That bag’s primary purpose is to hold dungeon loot. The Bracer will also be given one pouch of potions for the entire team. Now, you might decide to put the potions in the dimensional bag and let someone else carry it—that’s your call. But I don’t recommend it. Potions are the responsibility of the Bracer, especially for beginner teams like yours. As you advance to higher-level dungeons and gain more space for supplies, each party member will carry their own potions in addition to what their Bracer provides. But the Bracer will usually have the biggest supply of them. And you can never have too many potions.”
She paused, letting the information settle. The platoon was quiet, clearly considering the implications of her words, but no one dared to raise a hand. Before any questions could be formed, Farron added, “Now, no more questions until Private Two gets back.”
When Davick returned to formation, breath coming in ragged gasps, Farron gave him a nod of approval. “Very good.” She tossed a green vial at his chest, and it shattered on impact. Instantly, Davick absorbed the motes of light and green liquid from the dissolved vial, and his labored breathing evened out. He looked completely refreshed, his eyes wide in shock, mirroring the expressions of the entire platoon. The potion seemed to penetrate his clothing and get absorbed directly without him ingesting it.
“Any more questions?” Farron asked.