The next few days fell into a familiar rhythm. Each morning began with the full group of trainees running laps around the outskirts of town, building their stamina and raising their tolerance for physical exertion. To Josh’s surprise, he could already feel the difference. His lungs no longer burned after the first mile, and his legs didn’t ache quite so fiercely. He was even starting to enjoy the challenge.

  What really amused him, though, was watching the mages try to keep up. A few of them looked like they’d never run more than a bath before arriving here, but to their credit, even they were starting to improve, if only a little.

  Once the run was finished, the groups split up again. The mages returned to their lessons inside the guild hall or nearby buildings, poring over scrolls and absorbing mana theory under the sharp eyes of their instructors. Meanwhile, Josh and the other non-mages continued their physical training, sparring, weapon drills, and learning the fundamentals of combat strategy. During breaks, Ronald and Admiir would talk them through fighting stances, reading enemy movements, or how best to cover for each other in a fight.

  Every evening, Josh returned to the Bulls Head aching and sweat-soaked. But he didn’t complain, not seriously anyway. The training was hard, sure, but he could feel the results in his own body. He was faster, stronger, and tougher than he’d ever been before. It was like his whole body was responding to this new world, evolving.

  On the fourth day, something changed.

  They still started with the morning run, but when it ended, the mages didn’t peel off as usual. Instead, everyone remained outside the town gates, forming a loose circle on the grassy field beyond the training grounds. The instructors stood in the centre, and Ronald raised his voice to address them all.

  “Today,” he began, “we talk about party dynamics. You’ve been training separately, but when you’re out there in the wilds or a dungeon, it’ll be together, as a team.”

  He went on to explain the basics: every party had a leader, followed by up to four additional members. Being in a registered party allowed the system to track and share experience among its members. It also meant certain rewards, system-granted bonuses, could be earned collectively.

  Josh’s ears perked up at that, and he raised his hand.

  “What do you mean by system rewards?” he asked once Ronald gave him a nod to speak.

  Ronald smiled faintly, clearly pleased someone had caught on.

  “Sometimes the system will recognize certain achievements,” he explained. “Complete a quest, survive an ambush, slay a powerful monster, these might trigger a bonus. Could be an increase to one of your stats, an extra skill point, or even a rare skill you wouldn’t find otherwise. Being in a party means you all share in that. Same goes for loot from dungeons, if there’s a system chest, it’ll open for everyone in the party instead of just one person.”

  He paused, then added with a smirk, “Of course, sharing access doesn’t mean sharing fairly. That part’s on you.”

  The lesson continued, covering topics like role synergy, support positioning, and party communication. Josh tried to stay focused, but he could already feel his attention drifting. He’d never been good at sitting still and listening for long stretches. His legs itched to move, and the moment the conversation shifted into system mechanics and theoretical balance, his mind wandered.

  Instead, he glanced over at Brett, who was diligently scribbling notes. His friend barely looked up, nodding occasionally as he jotted something down, clearly filing the information away for later.

  Josh leaned back slightly, folding his arms behind his head as he let the instructors’ voices wash over him. The truth was, most of this felt familiar. In a weird way, the system operated almost like a game he used to play. Fight monsters, gain experience, level up, unlock new skills. Rinse and repeat. And now that he was in the thick of it, it didn’t feel as scary. It felt... doable. Especially with Brett at his side.

  Next, Caistina stepped forward. Her eyes swept over the gathered trainees with a knowing smile, lingering briefly on a few familiar faces.

  “Skills don’t stay the same forever,” she began. “They grow with you. The more you use them, the stronger they become. It’s the system’s way of rewarding effort and mastery.”

  She held up a hand, ticking off on her fingers.

  “Everyone starts at Basic. Clumsy. Inefficient. Unreliable. You might land a hit, sure but don’t expect it to look good. Or do much. But keep at it, and you’ll reach Adept. Now we’re talking. Your movements are smoother, faster, and you’re less likely to embarrass yourself. Some skills even start to show hints of extra effects or perks.”

  She took a step forward.

  “Push further, and you’ll hit Advanced. This is where real warriors and mages begin to shine. Your attacks are sharp, your spells precise and now you’re unlocking the real depth of the skill.”

  Caistina’s smile turned sharp. “Then comes Master. At this point, your skills flow like second nature. You’ll be pulling off techniques most people can barely imagine. One mistake from your enemy, and it’s over.”

  The group was silent, hanging on her every word.

  “But if you truly dedicate yourself, you might reach Grandmaster. This is the realm of legends. Sword strikes that cleave through stone. Spells that reshape the battlefield. When someone reaches this level, they don’t just win fights, they win battles.”

  She paused for effect. Then her voice dropped a notch.

  “And then there’s Mythic. Rare. Terrifying. A single slash that can split a mountain. A spell that bends the laws of time or gravity. Only a handful of beings throughout history have ever reached this tier.”

  The air grew still.

  “And finally… there’s Divine.”

  She let the word hang.

  “This isn’t something you reach through training alone. Divine-tier skills belong to champions chosen by fate or the gods themselves. If you ever see someone wielding one, you either bow... or run.”

  Caistina folded her arms.

  “As far as I know, no one alive today has a Divine-tier skill. Not anymore.”

  A hush fell over the group. Everyone seemed lost in their thoughts, imagining what it would be like to reach even half that level.

  Josh felt a shiver of excitement creep up his spine. Divine. If Mythic was terrifying, what must Divine be? Was this what the system meant when it said they were meant to become heroes? Was that their path? Were they meant to rise high enough to wield powers that could shake the heavens?

  The instructors moved on, talking more about the wider world and the kind of life that awaited adventurers. Josh perked up when Admiir stepped in to speak about dungeons.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  “Dungeons,” the dwarf rumbled, “are artificial zones created by the system. Think of them as pocket dimensions, places designed to test you, filled with monsters, traps, and rewards. Parties enter, fight, grow stronger, and walk away with loot and experience.”

  Josh nodded along. This sounded familiar, like a raid zone in a game.

  “But when a dungeon's left unchecked,” Admiir rumbled, “it starts to leak. Monsters slip through, first in ones and twos, then in packs. That’s where most of the problems in the wild come from. Usually, it’s just low-tier creatures, nuisances, but nothing a trained hand can’t handle. Like the goblins we’ve been seeing lately. Chances are there’s a new dungeon nearby, just starting to fester. But if it's left to grow…”

  He paused, eyes narrowing.

  “…that’s when it becomes a real threat you’ll get stronger monsters being created by excess mana, sometimes these beasts aren’t even in the dungeon, and from there it only gets worse…”

  He let the sentence hang.

  “Well. Then you get a breach. And if that happens, expect monsters in numbers and level you’re not ready for. That’s how villages fall. That’s how towns vanish.”

  Josh felt his stomach knot. He exchanged a glance with Brett, who was already scribbling notes, lips pressed into a thoughtful line.

  So not only are dungeons a way to grow stronger… they’re a threat if left alone.

  The world they were in wasn’t just dangerous, it was designed to be. And they had a lot of work ahead of them.

  Admiir went on to explain that the monster population in the world was largely the result of dungeon breaks. Over time, monsters that had escaped began to reproduce, leading to mutated or evolved versions that adapted to the environment. This meant the creatures seen outside the dungeons didn’t always match those found within, and even varied significantly across different regions.

  After another hour of system-related discussion, the tutors finally told the trainees to split into their class groups. Each instructor led their students to separate training areas to focus on class-specific skills. Josh felt a jolt of excitement, at last, some hands-on practice. He was eager to move and get some experience with his weapons.

  Admiir began by spending time with each of them individually, discussing weapon preferences. Thed was armed with a massive two-handed axe, which he said he preferred, though he also carried a smaller axe and shield. Brannur and Craberos had gear similar to Josh’s, sword and shield and both expressed an interest in being front-line defenders. Noe wielded two thin swords but offered no explanation for his choice.

  Admiir gave Noe a brief, thoughtful look before moving on, addressing the group.

  “If you want your weapon skills to evolve, you’ll need to commit,” he said. “Use a weapon enough, and the system will refine that skill. For example, using a one-handed sword long enough could evolve into ‘Swordsman.’, the adept skill. Wielding a Two-handed axe might turn your skill to ‘Great Axeman,’ and so on. But that only happens if you specialise.”

  The trainees nodded in understanding.

  Thed raised a paw. “What if we want to switch between one-handed and two-handed? Is there a downside?”

  “There’s no penalty,” Admiir said, “but it slows your progression. If you split your focus between multiple weapon types, each one will advance more slowly than if you stuck to one. I’m not saying never switch, just don’t jump around too much. For defenders, there might come a time when you need to trade your shield for a bigger weapon to push damage. Just be smart about it.”

  Thed grinned. “Makes sense. I think I’ll stick with the big axe most of the time anyway.”

  Josh had to admit, it suited him. In Thed’s huge, paw-like hands, the axe barely looked oversized at all.

  Admiir continued with a talk about weapons and armour, encouraging the defenders to invest in heavier gear when they could afford it, especially larger shields for greater coverage. He walked them through the pros and cons of different weapons, maces, he explained, were great for smashing through skeletons and armour, but awkward to handle. Axes delivered devastating slashing power but were of no use for defence. Swords, on the other hand, were versatile, decent at almost everything, but not the best at anything.

  Josh had already decided he liked his sword. He remembered reading something in his teens about old sword-fighting styles, how some warriors used a longer sword for reach and wide arcs, while also carrying a smaller blade, just longer than a dagger, for close-in stabs from behind a shield. The image stuck in his mind: a tower shield held firm, the short blade darting out like a viper, striking and retreating in a blur. Efficient. Safe. Smart.

  He smiled to himself at the thought, armoured up, shield raised, blades in hand. Maybe he wasn’t that far from being the hero the system believed he could become.

  Josh glanced around at the others, noting how each seemed lost in their own thoughts, likely imagining their future selves in full heroic glory, well, everyone except Noe. The quiet swordsman stood apart from the group, arms crossed and a scowl etched into his face. He looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.

  Josh had tried to strike up a conversation with Noe a few times since training began, but the man had made it clear that he wasn’t here to make friends. The day before, Brannur had filled him in: Noe was the son of a noble, forced into this training as a condition set by his father. Only once he'd completed it would he be allowed to go adventuring with his noble-born friends. That explained a lot.

  “Alright, you lot, enough daydreaming,” Admiir barked. “Time for some action.”

  He pointed to the side of the training yard. “You’ll see a set of targets over there, along with a bunch of training weapons. They're all dulled, so you won’t do too much damage to yourselves, to me, or to my training equipment. We're going to practice your basic strikes first, get the feel for your weapon of choice. Those of you working with shields, start integrating blocks and shield bashes into your rhythm. Eventually, we’ll move on to mock spars. But for now, I’ll be watching, correcting your form, and pointing out anything glaringly wrong.”

  He gave them all a firm look. “I’m hoping by the end of the week, you’ll all be at least close to adept rank in your chosen weapon.”

  Each trainee moved to the weapon racks. Noe was the first to reach it, claiming two long training swords with practiced ease. Thed grabbed a heavy two-handed axe that looked almost comically small in his massive hands. Brannur selected a small warhammer and a rounded shield, while Craberos took up a longsword paired with a kite shield.

  Josh took his time, testing the weight and balance of several sword and shield combinations. Eventually, he settled on a sword about two feet long, long enough for reach, short enough for speed, and a larger shield with a slight curve, offering better coverage around his side. It wasn’t perfect, but he immediately felt more secure with it strapped to his arm. Running his finger along the edge of his training sword, he confirmed it was completely blunt. Safe, but functional.

  The five of them lined up before the wooden training dummies.

  Admiir called out the first commands, and with a shout, the sound of wood and metal striking against targets echoed through the yard. Thudding blows, grunts, and the occasional barked correction from Admiir filled the air.

  Josh quickly fell into a rhythm. He pictured the goblin he’d fought days ago and mirrored the tactics that had worked then, slamming his shield forward, imagining it stunning his opponent, followed by a swift sword strike. Admiir had instructed him earlier to twist the blade as he pulled it out, doing so not only made it easier to withdraw the weapon but also increased the damage inflicted - Brett had once again been correct. He practiced that motion again and again: punch forward with the shield, stab, twist, pull back, shield up.

  He began to notice the finer details. Twisting his hips as he struck added more power. A quick forward lunge increased the force behind his shield bash. Using his shoulder to barge forward kept him covered but reduced speed; swinging his shield arm in a wide arc created explosive impact but left his side exposed. Each variation came with trade-offs.

  The minutes passed quickly, then the hours. Despite the gains from their conditioning training, sweat poured down Josh’s back, and his breaths came faster. But he pushed through, repeating the same sequence - shield, strike, twist, recover.

  Breath ragged and sweat stinging his eyes, Josh took a step back from the training dummy. His muscles screamed, his arms felt like lead but he wasn’t done. Not yet. He narrowed his eyes, locked his shield into place, and surged forward with every ounce of force he could muster. His boots pounded the dirt, his shoulder dropped, and with a grunt of exertion, he slammed into the target like a battering ram.

  There was a deafening CRACK as wood splintered beneath the blow.

  The dummy buckled violently and snapped clean at the base. Josh's momentum carried him straight through it, and before he could recover, he was crashing to the ground in a tangle of limbs and kicked-up dust.

  He lay there for a breath, heart thundering in his chest, staring up at the sky.

  Then he heard boots crunching toward him.

  Josh rolled to his feet just in time to see Admiir standing over him, arms crossed, brow furrowed with a mixture of irritation and restrained disappointment.

  “Losing your feet in a real fight will get you killed,” the dwarf growled. “Do better lad.”

  Without waiting for a reply, Admiir turned and stomped away toward the others, his heavy steps leaving deep impressions in the dirt.

  Josh exhaled slowly, brushing grit from his arms. The ache in his body was nothing compared to the sting behind the words.

  [System Message]: Reader detected at end of chapter.

  [Quest Available]: Leave Review or Follow Story.

  [Reward]: +100 Author Motivation, +5 Writing Speed, +1 Chance of Character Survival Next Chapter.