Paz’s idea of a training ground was a small swamp sequestered in Dreadwood about a day’s walk away from Skeelie.

We gathered our meager possessions and struck out at midnight, an hour when even the most daring adventurers retreated to their chambers. Paz’s eyesight worked fine in the dark, as did mine. But, Nicola had to rely on her [Eldritch Eyeball] technique to get around.

Paz had given two reasons for his hour of choice.

Firstly, we couldn’t rule out the chance that Byron would try to assassinate us before the festival. The less attention we drew on our way out of Skeelie, the better.

Secondly: a smattering of violent deaths tended to occur outside the city in the days leading up to the festival.

We needed to leave Skeelie before the roads became populated with ambushers looking for a quick level-up. And, what quicker way was there to level up than killing fellow rankers?

“There’s more to it than that,” Nicola said, as we journeyed through a pitch-black Dreadwood. “A good number of adventurers trickle into Skeelie weeks before the registrations begin. By the time Ezin opens the Oath Board, these rankers have since turned restless from missing out on valuable time for preparation.”

“. . . Causing a lot of them,” I inferred, “to go hunting for monsters at the same time.”

“Yes. It’s less about premeditated murder and more about brutal skirmishes over limited resources. Rankers might offer more XP than monsters of similar levels, but they are tenacious and harder to kill. A fight between rankers can easily go either way.”

She paused as a large entity trudged past the trees in the distance. A humongous one, to be more exact. Paz tried to get us to engage, but a tentacle from Nicola kept him in his place.

We resumed our journey some long minutes later when we were sure the worst had passed.

“It doesn’t help,” Nicola continued, “that the governor withdraws half the border patrol during the festival to help secure the city. It leaves a lot of crazy adventurers roaming without oversight. The only way to avoid that imbroglio is to stay in the city or ignore the shallow resources on the outskirts and dive deeper into Dreadwood. People who do that sometimes go in search of the wild god’s pets.”

“That’s not what we’re doing, right?” I asked. “Going after the wild god’s pets?”

Paz looked back at me and laughed.

The swamp he led us to wasn’t much better than fighting fell beasts. It stank with the stench of mulch, stale water, and rotten carcasses. The soil squelched beneath our feet, and the humid air bore flies, mosquitoes, and all things unpleasant.

Nicola inspected the bottom of her boots with a curled lip, then swiped at a mosquito that buzzed past her ear. “Why did you bring us here?!”

“Because,” Paz said, “this is the best place to level up without attracting attention. Trust me, I found it while traversing Dreadwood. Monsters even avoid the swamp because of its condition.”

“If monsters are too scared to come here, how do we kill them?”

“Quiet. Let’s rest for now. I know a good place.”

Paz led us into a small cave, obscured by wild brambles. We trudged into the roomy interior, which lay surprisingly clean, as though prepared beforehand. A single bedroll occupied one corner of the cave, and a hearth stood near the far end alongside an empty cooking pot.

“You lived here?” I asked.

“For a while,” Paz said, hooking a core lamp to a peg on the wall. “Feel free to sleep in any corner you want. We can go hunting after we wake.”

We retrieved blankets from our inventories, and a bedroll in Nicola’s case. Then, without further ado, we drifted off to sleep.

The swamp still looked as bad as I’d imagined the next morning. But, with daylight out in full force, I could properly examine my surroundings.

The majority of the ground was soft and wet, situated on a hill a few meters higher than the surroundings. Huge trees provided excellent cover from detection. A small region of stony earth made for a good place to rest and unwind, terminating in a short ledge that pointed toward the east.

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Paz led us to that region, through a terrain peppered with several rocks as though a cliff had been obliterated with several kilotons of TNT. Large boulders stood among the rocks, creating a view that was at once both ominous and intriguing.

Wait a goddamn minute . . . I recognized those boulders!

“This will be the site of our training,” Paz said, turning to face us. “I trained here myself a few weeks back.”

I looked around the clearing. “Rock Lurkers? Seriously?”

Paz’s jaw dropped in surprise. “You know what these are?”

“Are you trying to make a fool out of us?” Nicola yelled, getting in his face. “Rock Lurkers seldom rise past the regular rank. Did you bring us this far out to fight them?”

She wasn’t wrong. Using my discernment skill, I could see that none of the boulders around us stood greater than level 10. How the heck were these supposed to help us improve?

“Calm down,” Paz said, making a placating gesture. “I’m not stupid, you know? Among the regular spawns of Dreadwood, Rock Lurkers are the best of the bunch.”

Nicola and I glanced at each other at the part he said he wasn’t stupid.

“Oh, fuck you,” Paz said.

Nicola sighed. “Look, it doesn’t matter how tough the Rock Lurkers are. At my current level, I’d need to kill over two hundred of them single-handedly to advance by a single point. That’s rather inefficient.”

“It is. But, I wouldn’t have brought you here if I didn’t think you’d gain something out of it. Let’s just take care of these bastards first, yea? You’ll understand once we begin.”

Nicola turned to me with a look of pure exasperation. But, I offered a shrug, sighed, and got to grinding.

The Rock Lurkers didn’t like that. The instant we got into proximity, a bunch of the monsters rose and barreled toward us.

The first Rock Lurker I’d faced had an exterior as hard as diamond, and these were no different. We spent an entire day dodging around boulders and trying to snipe them in the mouth.

We used potions when we could, but there was no getting around the six-hour cooldowns. We managed to slay about thirty Rock Lurkers between us before we were forced to call it a day.

My arms felt like lead.

After some rest and [Meditation], Paz invited me to sparring practice.

“Isn’t this kind of pointless?” I asked as he led me down a mucky meadow.

“What do you mean?”

“I have a skill that grants expertise with Rogue-type weapons. I don’t see what fighting with you can do to improve that, within our limited time frame.”

“I have my [Polearm Mastery] too, but don’t be a blockhead. The fighting styles teach you how to swing a blade. Knowing when to swing one is an entirely different matter.”

“Sure it is. But, rankers get stronger much faster by leveling up. We can save this exercise for later, maybe till after the festival.”

Paz ran his large hands through his hair. “Ugh. You’re exactly like I was back when I learned this lesson.” He pointed a finger at me. “Listen, all the fighting styles do is teach you how to move your body. Everything else: timing, tactics, and feints, comes from you.

“If weapon skills sharpen your muscle memory, actual practice hones your decision-making. You need to strike a balance between both facets to avoid a bloody end.”

I’d noticed something similar in my first fight with the monkeys, but between the stress of fighting Rock Lurkers and the disappointment, I wasn’t sure I wanted to entertain Paz any further. “I still think this can wait until we’ve gotten our levels up.”

Paz growled. “Tell you what. If you manage to land three strikes on me in a martial arts-only contest, I’ll listen to reason and never ask this again.”

“You don’t have a weapon.”

“. . . leaving me at a disadvantage. Surely, tall, dark, and powerful Damien can win against a Skirmisher who doesn’t own a polearm.”

“I’m two levels stronger than you, Paz.”

“And, your daddy’s a donkey. Are you going to keep making excuses to get out of taking the bet?”

I suppressed a retort because I was sensible enough to see that Paz had a point. If I couldn’t beat him with all that [Knife-fighting] could bring to bear while he fought barehanded, then he had earned the right to teach me without being contested.

However, I had also seen his attributes. Paz’s stat points leaned heavily toward the physical, with a twenty in Strength and a ten in Dexterity. This wouldn’t be easy, no matter how much I burned to shut him up.

But . . . three strikes were doable, right? Between me and my dagger. I’d die of shame if I couldn’t manage that much.

“My kind of person,” Paz said with a laugh as I retrieved Nana’s heirloom from my inventory. He lifted his arms and settled into a stance.

I settled into one of my own, drawing on the wealth of knowledge available to [Knife-fighting]. It wasn’t a style built for head-on confrontations, but I didn’t intend to draw this out.

Paz inched forward with his leading palm open in an imitation of a shield. I tensed in reaction, watching his movement.

He blurred out of sight.

That fight constituted the most grueling ten minutes I had ever endured. By the time we were done, I sported a depleted health meter and two black eyes.

In contrast, I had only managed to tag Paz once.

Paz’s punches landed with the force of 20 Strength behind them, enough to make me realize how strong Beelith was to rend him apart.

I had considered myself a decent melee fighter—a notion I quickly discarded, thanks to the beatdown. Paz acted surprisingly gracious in victory, and he helped me up from the mud and into the cave.

Hours later, we devoured a pot of soup Nicola had prepared.

Paz grinned at me from across the cave, finally ready to talk smack. “Sorry for humiliating you back there. Wanna go again tomorrow?”

I growled into my soup. “Bet.”