Hestia gave him a lecture about being careful and giving himself time to properly recover. He munched on the second meat pie as she did, fighting the urge to shake his head. In his view, it wasn’t real training if you didn’t feel like you were dying. And he needed some serious training. He was surprised that she was so concerned for his well-being, since they were still largely strangers, but he figured it wasn’t worth fighting over right now. He was too tired, anyways.

Eventually they went inside, and Hestia updated Tim’s status. As she surveyed the glyphs, she marveled a bit at what she was seeing. Even when considering the fact that he had spent a lot of time in the Dungeon, he had still killed ridiculous numbers of monsters. Especially for someone who had only just gotten their blessing. She surveyed the newfound excellia with a bit of awe and curiosity.

“What happened with this boy?”

The obvious answer, perhaps too obvious, was that he was the reincarnation of some long dead warrior. Some god, looking for some new entertainment, had taken the soul of a legendary hero, stuffed it into the body of a recently killed teenager, and was watching now with interest. She had suspected as much since the moment she had given him his blessing. But now she wasn’t so sure, for several reasons.

For one, he didn’t remind her at all of any of the legendary heroes she was aware of. He was quite different from Jason and Perseus. He reminded her a bit of Odysseus, but the Man of Many Faces was known for archery, not swordsmanship. He favored strength and physical power like Heracles, but their personalities were totally different. It was possible that there was some other hero out there she didn’t know, but something else gave her pause.

“…hungrier than a Deepwalker Ape…”

What was a Deepwalker Ape?

She finished updating his status as she chewed on all of this, writing it down and handing that paper to Adama, still lost in thought. He took it and examined his update with a critical eye.

Timaias Adama,

Strength: I-87 -> I-98

Defense: I-64 –> I-73

Dexterity: I-77 -> I-87

Agility: I-34 -> I-42

Magic: I-66 -> I-75

Spells:

Rippling Sword

* Swift Strike Magic

Skills:

()

He frowned a bit at the meager number increases, miffed that all of his stats were still at the lowest grade, even Strength. He knew that his growth would be at its fastest right now, at these early stages, so he had been hoping for something a bit more explosive. As if reading his mind, Hestia commented while still looking absent mindedly in the distance:

“Oh no you don’t. I can already hear you thinking that your growth here is a bit disappointing. It isn’t. In fact, its’ a little insane. If you kept training at this rate, day after day, you would reach the peak of Level 1 in a year. A year! That’s even accounting for the fact that you will definitely slow down as you advance through the ranks. Keep in mind that advancing to Level 2 within a year is the all-time record.”

Advancing a Level in this world was something like moving to a new advancement level in Cradle, though typically even more dramatic. The step from Lowgold to Highgold was minor in comparison to a change from Level 1 to 2. An increase in Level was an increase in the level of your whole existence and made you significantly stronger. To do that, though, you needed to approach the peak of your current Level and achieve some kind of major combat victory or heroic feat, thereby earning you “high grade” excellia that could then be used to increase your Level. Many adventurers never overcame this hurdle and languished at Level 1.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

Hestia broke out of her reverie and ordered Tim to take the day off. She let him eat her breakfast of apples and told him that she would take his valuables to the Guild exchange. She hustled her way through the winding city streets, eager to avoid any scrutiny on the cargo she carried and made it to the Guild in very good time. There was no line, since nearly all the adventurers were already going to work at this time of day. She emptied the pouches into the tray, and watched patiently as the young lady teller examined the valuables.

“Hmmm, a kobold nail. Always lucky to get an item drop.”

She had noticed the nail beforehand and agreed. They would be able to pay off their debts for sure, now.

“I’ll give you 12,400 for the entire batch. 5,000 for the nail, 7,400 for the stones.”

She nodded and said:

“I’d like to pay off a 9,000 vals debt. In the name of Timaias Adama.”

“Looks to me here that 3,000 has already been put down on that debt. Would you like to pay off the remaining balance of 6,000?”

She nodded, realizing that these had only been the spoils from that night and that Tim must have used the money earned last afternoon to pay off 3,000. Earning that much money in a single day as a solo adventurer was absurd, even with the luck of the item.

“I have definitely picked a winner.” She thought to herself with a slight smile as she walked out of the exchange with debts paid off and 6,400 vals in her pocket.

It was time to do some shopping for her little swordsman.

The Sword Sage

After breakfast, Tim napped for a few hours before deciding to go out for a little exercise. He could have used some more sleep, his new body a far cry from his old Archlord body, which didn’t need to rest at all, but he wanted to stay sharp even in recovery. He would sleep later tonight. Hestia shouldn’t mind if he went for a little walk, so long as he didn’t go into the Dungeon.

Of course, that little walk of his led him up to the top of a rampart on the wall that separated the city from the countryside. This seemed like a nice, remote area that was still within city limits. Perfect for a little practice. He drew his sword and began going through the motions, slowly at first then increasing in speed. Turning aside imaginary attacks and counterattacking against imaginary opponents, he stepped to the rhythm of a beat that he had followed for his entire life.

Sweat began to soak his bandages, the salt stinging his old cuts, but the pain only made him feel more alive as he showcased his mastery of the blade in the noonday heat. He slipped into his comfortable bubble and hours passed like that, motions flowing like a river as he dueled countless imaginary adversaries to the death.

That bubble was poked when he felt someone’s focus boring right into his back.

He wound down his practice for the moment and turned to find the source of the gaze. A rather tall woman in a white and black battle cloth and long blue boots was staring at him from the entrance to the ramparts in the side of one of the guard towers. She was a pretty young thing, seemingly around 19 summers, with delicate features, long blond hair, and golden eyes. These features didn’t exactly scream “warrior”, but she carried a long, thin sword on her belt, and he could tell by how she moved that she knew how to use it.

He sheathed his sword and gave her a lopsided grin:

“I must be mighty interesting to have you staring a hole in my back, girlie. Something you want from me?”

Eyes still locked on him; she stayed quiet for a few moments before finally speaking. Her voice was soft and slow, like she was coaxing a wild rabbit to eat from her palm:

“Will you teach me swordsmanship?”

Then she added, hastily:

“I’m already quite good with a sword, but your moves just looked…right. I could use a few pointers, is all I’m saying.”

Adama looked her over for a moment before responding:

“Tell you true, my last attempt at taking a disciple didn’t work out too well for her. So far as I know.”

In all likelihood, Yerin had been killed by the Jades of that isolated valley. Because he left her. All alone. The guilt stung far more than his wounds as he thought about it. Then again, this girl looked like she had talent…

“I could still teach you a thing or two, though, if you’re prepared for that.”

When she nodded, he unsheathed his sword and held it in a ready position:

“Well, show me what you’ve got.”

It was only sheer combat instinct that allowed Tim to get his blade between himself and her first attack. One moment, she was all the way over there, with a totally sheathed sword and a relaxed posture, the next she was already in front of him, lancing forward with a sweeping strike. He redirected it away, but the force of the hit nearly tore the sword out of his hands, leaving him completely vulnerable. He didn’t even see the roundhouse kick that sent him tumbling along the ground backwards.

Dazed and looking up at the sky, Adama wondered at what had just happened. His ribs felt like he had gotten kicked by a Herald as he sat up and eyed the slightly sheepish girl who had just sent him tumbling. Her eyes widened a bit with concern and embarrassment as she apologized:

“I’m sorry. I should have asked your Level first. I’m Level 5. I thought you were moving a little slowly earlier, but I figured that you were just practicing at low speeds…”

Level 5. Of course, this innocent looking girl who wandered in on his practice had to be a tiger in human skin.

“But Level and skill are not the same thing!” She hurried onward, as if to spare his feelings, “I would still like to learn from you. I’ll limit myself appropriately when we spar.”

She was nodding eagerly again, but Adama could only sigh.

“Sure, why not?”

Then he paused, realizing something:

“Speaking of things to ask, what’s your name?”

“Aiz. Aiz Wallenstein.”