The blue-robed trainer who awaited Talax's descent, known as Master Garrick, crossed his arms watching Talax. As Talax hesitated at the top, unsure of the rickety rope, Master Garrick's patience wore thin. He called up to Lirielle, irritation lacing his voice.
"Why's the new blood taking his sweet time up there? We don't have all day!" Master Garrick grumbled aloud, earning a few snickers from the other initiates who had been sparring. Some of them cast amused glances towards Talax, clearly enjoying his discomfort.
As he cautiously grabbed hold of the shaky rope and began his descent, Master Garrick couldn't resist tossing in a few cutting remarks. "Watch him tumble, boys. Bet he'll be better off as a snowman when he hits the bottom," he quipped, a sly grin forming on his face. The other initiates joined in the teasing, their laughter echoing in the training area as Talax carefully made his way down.
Talax gritted his teeth and ignored the jeers from below as he descended the rickety rope ladder. The rough comments and laughter grated at him, but he chose to remain silent, not wanting to be confrontational on his first day.
Finally, his feet touched the ground, and he looked up to meet Master Garrick's eyes. The trainer's face bore a stern expression, but there was a glint of curiosity in his eyes. He gestured toward the practice area.
"Alright, newcomer, let's see what you're made of," Master Garrick barked. "Grab a training blade, and pair up with the closest initiate. Time to show us your skills."
Talax scanned the area and saw an initiate with a wooden training sword standing nearby. He picked up a similar practice weapon and approached the waiting initiate, who regarded him with a mix of curiosity and skepticism. Talax braced himself for the upcoming sparring match, determined to prove that he belonged in this place.
The sparring session was a rigorous test of skill and endurance. Talax squared off against his opponent, both of them wielding wooden swords with a resounding clash that echoed through the open training ground. The monasteries' initiates had gathered around to watch him in action, their faces a mixture of curiosity and mild amusement.
Talax's adversary, an initiate named Aric, bore a look of grim determination. His eyes were sharp, and his movements were fluid, a testament to dedicated training. On the other hand, Talax's posture was strong, but he lacked the finesse and precision that Aric demonstrated.
Master Garrick, their trainer, stood nearby, his arms crossed and an ever-present scowl etched on his face and his disapproving gaze seemed to bore into Talax's very soul.
As the match began, Master Garrick's sarcastic remarks punctuated the air. "Oh, look at our new recruit," he sneered. "Full of enthusiasm, but I wonder if he can even lift that wooden sword properly."
Talax gritted his teeth and focused on his opponent. He couldn't afford to let the instructor's comments distract him. Aric wasted no time, launching into a series of swift strikes that tested Talax's reflexes.
"Are you trying to hit him or swat flies, Talax?" Master Garrick barked. "At this rate, you'll be lucky if you even land a blow."
Despite the relentless taunting, Talax managed to hold his ground. His strength and agility allowed him to deflect some of Aric's attacks, but it was clear that his opponent's skill far surpassed his own.
Aric's precision began to wear down Talax's defenses, and a sharp strike left him staggering back, his wooden sword nearly slipping from his grip. The onlookers murmured, and Master Garrick couldn't resist another jab. "Seems like our new initiate is about as durable as a twig in a storm."
Talax, fueled by a mix of frustration and determination, pushed through the fatigue and resumed the fight. He managed a few counterattacks, landing glancing blows on Aric, but it was clear that he was outmatched.
As the spar continued, Talax's muscles screamed in protest, and sweat poured down his face. He fought valiantly, but Aric's superior technique prevailed. With a final, decisive strike, Aric disarmed Talax, sending his wooden sword clattering to the ground.
Master Garrick called a halt to the match, and the crowd dispersed, some shaking their heads in disappointment, others offering the occasional sympathetic glance at Talax. Talax couldn't help but feel a sense of defeat, but he also knew that he had faced a formidable opponent.
Master Garrick approached Talax, his gruff voice slightly less biting. "You've got strength and agility, lad," he grumbled. "But you need a lot more than that to survive here. Keep training, and maybe one day you won't be so embarrassingly outclassed."
Talax nodded, a mix of exhaustion and determination in his eyes. The match was a humbling experience. In the past he had relied on his numerous abilities and spells to beat his opponents, he had never depended solely on his sword, and that showed in his performance.
Whenever he had fought in the past he had either battled against weaker opponents or used tricks to compensate for his less than impressive swordsmanship skill. Now though he had a chance to truly learn how to use a sword. Franny had tried to teach him the basics, but the constant dangers and enemies hadn’t left a lot of time for training and Talax had been left to fend off for himself.
With the sparring session concluded and the crowd dispersing, Talax retrieved his wooden sword from the ground. As he walked back towards Lirielle, who had been watching the match with a supportive expression, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of frustration.
Lirielle patted him on the back as he approached. "You did well for your first time, Talax," she offered in a comforting tone. "Remember, everyone starts somewhere, and Aric has been training for years."
Talax appreciated her encouragement, and he managed a small smile. "Thanks, Lirielle. I won't give up. I'll get better."
The gnome nodded approvingly. "That's the spirit! Just keep working at it, and you'll improve in no time."
Master Garrick, who had been observing their exchange, chimed in with a rare compliment. "You've got determination, I'll give you that. Your strength and agility attributes are surprisingly high, with the correct guidance we can make a warrior out of ya!”
As Lirielle turned to Master Garrick, she said, "I am leaving Talax to your care."
Garrick responded with a wolfish smile, "Oh, I'll take care of him, alright."
Talax gave a helpless shrug and watched as Lirielle made her way to the taut rope, her small feet trying to find purchase on it. She began scaling the rope, disappearing from view as she made her ascent.
With Lirielle gone, Master Garrick turned his attention to Talax. "For today, I want you to practice on the dummies over there," he pointed at a row of wooden dummies, each filled with scrapes and marks. "Just do your best for now and observe your fellow initiates."
Talax nodded in acknowledgment and with slumped shoulders made his way toward the row of dummies. Garrick, on the other hand, resumed barking commands at the other initiates, who hurried to get in line and follow his orders.
He watched as the other initiates practiced their various skills under Master Garrick's watchful eye. Garrick had a stern and no-nonsense approach to his training, which was evident in the way he barked orders and corrected the initiates with sharp critiques.
Taking a deep breath, Talax drew his wooden sword and began to execute basic strikes and blocks. He moved through the motions he had learned in his previous training, trying to focus on his technique and form. The sword felt familiar in his hand, and he could sense that there was potential for improvement.
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Master Garrick's booming voice echoed across the training grounds as he continued to instruct the initiates. "Remember, precision and control! You're not hacking at logs in the forest; you're facing a skilled opponent!"
Talax tried to heed Garrick's advice and concentrated on making each strike deliberate and precise. He couldn't help but steal glances at the other initiates, watching how they executed their techniques with fluidity and grace. Despite his recent defeat, he was determined to catch up and prove himself.
Hours passed as Talax practiced tirelessly on the wooden dummies. His muscles ached, and his arms felt heavy, but he persevered. Occasionally, Master Garrick would approach him with cutting remarks to offer a suggestion or critique, always accompanied by a hint of sarcasm.
"Are you trying to tickle the dummy, Talax? I've seen more aggression from a kitten," Garrick remarked at one point, earning a few chuckles from nearby initiates.
Talax's frustration bubbled beneath the surface, but he knew better than to let it show. He simply nodded, determined to prove himself.
After hours of hitting the helpless training dummy Talax decided to take a well-earned break. He found a spot beside one of the many wooden dummies scattered across the open training area and settled down, the hard-packed ground feeling oddly comforting beneath him. As he rested, he observed his fellow initiates as they honed their swordsmanship skill under the watchful eye of Master Garrick.
The group of initiates wasn't particularly large, consisting of just nine individuals. Most of them were humans, their youthful faces etched with determination. Their bodies moved with a fluidity that came from countless hours of practice. Swords gleamed as they clashed, the steel-on-steel sound ringing through the training area. Among them, there was a lone dwarf who, despite his fierce determination, struggled to match the graceful movements of his taller human sparring partner. The dwarf's short legs and stout build seemed to work against him as he labored to keep up.
Two wood elves, with dusky skin and long, intricately braided hair cascading down their backs, stood out among the initiates. Talax used his analyze ability to confirm that they were indeed brothers. Despite their identical appearances, their personalities couldn't have been more different, the one boastful, always trying to pull one over his brother, while the other one remained silent and focused, until he landed a hit, of course, because then he wouldn’t stop making fun of his brother, acting like immature children. Their sparring sessions were filled with playful taunts and friendly jabs at each other, showcasing their strong sibling bond. Their agile movements and precise strikes demonstrated a level of coordination that only years of training together could achieve. It was as if they were reading each other’s mind, always knowing where the next hit would land.
The only woman in the group, named Elara according to Talax's analysis, had a striking appearance with her closely-cropped blond hair and pointed ears. Although she lacked the ethereal beauty often associated with elves, her dedication was evident. She had cast aside her grey robes and fought in a sleeveless shirt that revealed her well-defined arms. However, it was clear that she was the least experienced among the initiates. She frequently found herself on the ground or nursing fresh bruises on her exposed skin. Despite the setbacks, Elara never wavered. She gritted her teeth and got back up, her determination shining through with each strike and parry.
Talax couldn't help but marvel at the seemingly vast difference in skill and technique displayed by his fellow initiates. He had used his analyze ability to assess their levels, which fell within the range of 15 to 20, quite similar to his own level of 16. Yet, the ease with which they executed their swordsmanship techniques was nothing short of impressive, making his own proficiency appear embarrassingly inadequate in comparison. It was a stark reminder that he had much ground to cover if he hoped to catch up to the rest of the class.
As he pondered this, Master Garrick's sharp voice sliced through his thoughts like a blade. “Are you relaxing your royal highness? Would you like me to feed you grapes too? Get up! Get up! Get up!”
The instructor's sarcastic comment drew laughter from the initiates who found Garrick's jest amusing. Talax scrambled to his feet, determined not to give the others any more reason to mock him. He stood up, clutching his wooden sword, a burning desire to improve and prove himself now driving him harder.
Under Garrick's watchful gaze and barked commands, the initiates continued their training, their movements growing sharper and more focused with each passing minute. Talax dedicated himself to the exercises with renewed vigor, trying to absorb as much as he could from the instruction and the example set by his peers. It was a humbling experience, but he was determined to overcome his limitations and reach the level of skill exhibited by those around him.
As the day wore on and the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the training area, Talax's body ached from the intense workout. Sweat dripped from his brow, and his muscles protested the relentless practice. But despite the physical strain, a fire burned within him, without even realizing it, he had come to enjoy the rhythmic thump every time his sword landed on the dummy or how his muscles ached from the long training.
With each swing of his wooden practice sword, he pushed himself harder, determined to close the gap in skill between himself and his fellow initiates. He could feel his skill improving with every jab, every swing and every stab.
The training session had finally come to an end, and Talax, along with the other initiates, breathed a collective sigh of relief. Exhausted and spent, many of them collapsed onto the ground, their bodies protesting the rigorous workout they had endured. The elf brothers, seemingly untouched by fatigue, stood together with expressions of satisfaction. Talax leaned heavily against the training dummy, his arms trembling from the intense exercise. It felt as if every muscle in his body had been pushed to its limit.
As he caught his breath, he noticed Elara, the woman who had struggled during the training, making her way toward him. Determined to be polite and perhaps make a friend, he greeted her with a somewhat overly enthusiastic "Hi!" However, Elara seemed uninterested and continued to retrieve her discarded robes without acknowledging him. Talax's attempt to initiate a conversation fell flat, leaving him feeling a bit awkward.
Undeterred, he introduced himself, thinking it might help break the ice. "I am Talax," he said with a friendly smile. Elara glanced back at him, giving him a strange look before muttering, "I know." Talax, eager to establish a connection, pressed on with curiosity, asking for her name even though he was already aware of it.
Elara, now dressed in her gray monastery robe, let out a weary sigh. "Elara," she replied curtly. Talax, not one to easily give up, was about to say more, but she raised her hand to stop him, her patience wearing thin. "Look," she began, "I'm not interested in making friends. So, save your breath." Talax's mouth snapped shut, and he couldn't help but feel like a child trying to make friends on a playground.
Frustrated with the chilly reception he'd received from several initiates since arriving at the monasteries, he couldn't help but mutter, "Why is everyone so unfriendly in this place?" Elara, hearing his comment, didn't hold back in her response. "Because everyone has come here with a purpose, to find themselves and become better. They don't want to waste their time with useless niceties."
Talax was about to respond when he observed mysterious blinking lights in the distance, and a feeling of intrigue washed over him making him forget about Elara’s bad manners. The ethereal glow seemed to pulse and flicker amidst the thickening mist, creating a mesmerizing display. He strained his eyes to make out what was happening or where the lights were coming from, but the mist shrouded the source in secrecy.
Elara, who had been walking away and making her way to the rope that would lead her out of the bowl-like training ground, paused when Talax posed his question. He pointed in the direction of the mysterious lights and asked, "What are those lights over there?" His curiosity was piqued, and he couldn't help but wonder about the source of the unusual phenomenon.
Elara turned around, her wistful expression revealing a hint of admiration as she replied, "It's the advanced class for the swordsmanship skill. That's where master Lorindor is teaching." Talax was unfamiliar with this particular instructor, but the reverent tone in Elara's voice suggested that he must be an impressive and skilled teacher.
As the other initiates began to climb the rope to leave the training ground, Master Garrick turned his attention to Talax and barked, "Are you coming?" Talax hesitated for a moment, torn between following the group and his curiosity about the advanced swordsmanship class. After some contemplation, he made up his mind and replied, "No, you go ahead." With a nonchalant shrug, the instructor continued on, leaving Talax to his own devices.
As the last initiate disappeared up the rope, Talax turned his gaze back to the distant lights, pondering whether he should go after the blinking lights. Darkness had already fallen, making the already dangerous monasteries even more perilous, but his curiosity demanded to be sated.
Talax, driven by curiosity and a desire to explore the source of the mysterious lights, ventured away from the training ground. The surrounding darkness made it difficult to navigate, but his mana manipulation skill proved to be a valuable asset. He concentrated his mana into his hands, causing them to emit a soft, blue ethereal light, similar to the distant lights he was pursuing.
Following the faint glow, he eventually stumbled upon a narrow crack in the rocky wall that led him out of the training ground. Emerging on the other side, he continued along a winding path that weaved through the labyrinthine rock formations. The path was treacherous, constantly changing in width and elevation, it narrowed, widened, and occasionally vanished altogether, making each step precarious and forcing him to tread carefully.
After what felt like an eternity of climbing and descending, Talax finally stumbled upon a narrow bridge that spanned a yawning chasm. He crossed it with cautious steps, his heart racing with anticipation. On the other side he found himself on yet another summit, the lights now much closer and more dazzling than before.
The distant sounds of battle echoed through the rocky landscape, becoming clearer with each passing moment. Determination surged within him, giving him the strength to overcome his fatigue and the numerous scrapes he had acquired on his journey.
As he moved closer, the breathtaking sight before him took his breath away.