Training .3

As the morning sun rose, the clouds parted, allowing golden rays to pierce through and bathe the house in blinding light. By the time Stiles and Aria finally stirred, it was already past noon. Dante's voice soon echoed through the house, calling them into the living room.

Aria descended the stairs slowly, each step deliberate as pain still lingered in her body. She eased herself into one of the chairs, while Stiles remained sprawled on the couch, glancing over with a half-lidded stare.

Dante stood before them, arms crossed. "We have a flight scheduled in two hours," he announced. "The guild booked it for us. We're heading to Denali, Alaska—the next stage of our training. Everything's taken care of, including clothes and gear, so don't worry about packing."

Stiles blinked, then shot upright. "You crazy son of a bitch! You mean Denali—as in the Denali? In Alaska? You expect us to climb that frozen deathtrap? I'm not about to lose my damn toes to frostbite, you lunatic!"

Dante shrugged, unfazed. "We agreed this would be a team experience. What better way to build trust than climbing a mountain together in the bitter cold?" With that, he turned on his heel and walked out, the distant roar of the truck's engine following moments later.

Aria let out a strained sigh, wincing as she pushed herself up from the chair. Each step toward the truck was slow and deliberate, pain still radiating through her body. Stiles lingered for a few seconds before groaning and forcing himself off the couch, trailing behind her.

When Stiles opened the truck door, he froze. SteelArm was already inside, arms crossed, looking entirely too comfortable.

"You bastard," Stiles muttered with a sigh before climbing in.

SteelArm smirked. "It's not that bad, Stiles. Just... be more open-minded," he said, nodding as if trying to convince himself just as much as Stiles.

Aria grabbed the handle inside the truck, using it to hoist herself up before shutting the door and buckling in. Stiles and Dante followed suit, while SteelArm, unsurprisingly, was already strapped in.

Dante glanced around the truck. "Everyone ready?"

"Not a damn chance in hell am I ready, you lunatic," Stiles shot back, pulling out his phone. He tapped the screen, frowning. "...Wait. What the hell happened to my service?"

"Oh, I had all of our services canceled for the next two months," Dante said casually. "The guild helped with that."

Stiles' head snapped toward him. "You what?"

Ignoring him, Dante started the engine and pulled onto the dirt road, merging onto the main road before turning right—heading straight for the airport.

Aria gazed out the window, tuning out the argument between Stiles and Dante as it escalated over their lost phone service. She let out a quiet breath, watching the scenery blur past. "This is going to be… a long week, isn't it?" she thought, her mind drifting to everything that had happened in the past few weeks—how much had changed, how much she'd endured.

Time slipped by, and after an hour and a half, they finally pulled into the airport. Their reserved section for the private flight awaited, the plane already prepped for takeoff. Stepping out of the truck, they grabbed their small belongings they took with them and made their way up the stairs, filing onto the aircraft.

The door sealed shut behind them, and the plane took off smoothly. Not long after, a steward approached, handing each of them a set of cold-weather gear prepared by the guild. Heavy-duty coats, insulated gloves, thermal layers, and specialized boots—all essential for surviving the bitter cold of Denali.

One by one, they took turns changing in the cramped airplane bathroom, emerging fully outfitted for the harsh conditions ahead.

Hours passed in flight before the plane finally descended, the engines roaring as they landed on the icy tarmac. Stepping off, the bitter chill of Alaska hit them immediately, a stark contrast to the warmth inside the plane.

For a brief moment, they lingered near the airport, stretching their legs after the long journey. Soon after, a cab rolled up, its headlights cutting through the thin veil of falling snow.

The driver, a middle-aged man in a thick coat, rolled down the window. "I was requested by the Dragon Bone Guild to take you to the mountains. That right?"

Stiles, looking thoroughly unimpressed with the cold, spoke up first. "Yeah," was all he muttered before slipping into the back seat. Aria followed, settling in beside Dante, while SteelArm took the front passenger seat.

The drive stretched on for another hour, the road winding through dense forests and snow-covered valleys. Gradually, the towering silhouette of Denali loomed in the distance, its icy peaks vanishing into the overcast sky. The sense of isolation became palpable.

Finally, the cab slowed to a stop at the base of the mountain—an area reserved exclusively for their training over the next four weeks. The wind howled as they stepped out, boots crunching into the packed snow beneath them.

Dante exhaled, taking in the unforgiving landscape before turning to the group. "Welcome to hell," he muttered, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Stiles shoved his hands into his coat pockets. "Yeah, no shit. I can feel my soul freezing."

Aria glanced up at the mountain, her expression unreadable. "Four weeks in this…" she thought to herself befor sighing.

SteelArm stretched his arms, almost unbothered by the cold. "Well, no time like the present. What's first on the agenda, boss?"

Dante's eyes gleamed with determination. "We climb."

Stiles stared at the towering, ice-covered mountain before them, then back at Dante. "We climb right away? No rest? After all that flying and driving?" His voice was a mix of disbelief and exhaustion.

Dante smirked, adjusting the straps of his gear. "Hell no. We only have four weeks, after all."

Before Stiles could protest further, Dante and SteelArm were already moving, trudging through the snow toward the base of the mountain.

Aria followed close behind, completely unbothered by the freezing temperatures. The wind cut through the air, harsh and biting, yet she barely felt a thing. "Why does this feel... normal?" she wondered, tilting her head slightly. Is it because of that class thing I chose? Do I have some kind of resistance?

As if responding to her thoughts, a translucent menu suddenly materialized before her, hovering in the air. Her eyes scanned the text, and the first few things she looked at was:

Ice Immunity, Frost Immunity, Frostbite Immunity, Coldness Immunity

A smile crept onto her lips. "Well, that explains a lot." Feeling even more confident, she picked up her pace, and began to keep up with SteelArm.

Meanwhile, Stiles stood at the bottom, watching the three of them disappear into the ascent. He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Unbelievable," he muttered. "They're actually insane."

Still, with no real choice left, he let out a dramatic sigh and started trudging after them, boots sinking into the snow with every step. "Fine, fine... but if I freeze to death, I'm haunting all of you," he grumbled.

Dante chuckled. "You can try. I'll make sure to exorcise your ghost myself."

The group continued their climb, the icy wind whipping against their faces. The mountain loomed above them, a silent, unyielding force—but they were ready.