Training

The warm sunlight streamed through the small window of the inn room, stirring him awake. His body ached slightly, a lingering reminder of the previous day's encounter. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat up, letting out a small yawn. The events of the previous day were still fresh in his mind—his first quest, his first kill, and the unsettling pleasure he felt from it.

Shaking off the thoughts, he stood up and stretched. Today, he needed to focus on improving himself. The goblin encounter had made one thing crystal clear: he wasn't strong enough yet. Without proper training, he wouldn't last long in this world, no matter how much potential his system claimed he had.

After breakfast, he left the inn and made his way to the Adventurer's Guild. The streets were bustling with people going about their daily routines—merchants calling out their wares, children running through the streets, and adventurers preparing for their quests.

When he arrived at the guild, the lively atmosphere from yesterday was still present.

He ignored the quest board this time. Today wasn't about earning money or climbing the ranks. It was about preparing himself for the dangers that lay ahead.

As he walked from the reception area, he made his way to the guild's training rooms. These rooms were set aside for Adventurers who wished to hone their skills in a safe and controlled setting. On the counter stood a woman whose serious appearance matched her demeanor. As he drew closer, she looked at him for a moment.

"I'd like to book a private training room," he said.

"Five gold coins," she replied curtly.

He handed her the coins without hesitation. The cost wasn't cheap, but it was worth it. Training in a controlled environment was far better than risking his life out in the wild. As he handed over the money. After taking the money, the woman handed him a small iron key and gestured toward the corridor leading to the training rooms. "Room three. Return the key when you're done."

"Thank you," he said, taking the key.

The training room was simple but effective. It was a spacious chamber with stone walls and a reinforced wooden floor. Targets and dummies were set up at various distances, and there were shelves stocked with basic training weapons and supplies.

He locked the door behind him and took a deep breath. This was his space for the day, and he intended to make the most of it.

To begin with, he did some simple exercises—push-ups, sit-ups, and stretching. Physical fitness was as necessary as magical education, particularly for him who would be engaging on the front lines. After perhaps thirty minutes, he was loosened up and ready to turn his attention to his magic.

He stood in the middle of the room, raised his right hand, and focused. A tiny spark of fire materialized in his palm, a soft glow. He focused even harder, forming it into a small, unsteady ball of flame. Sweat ran down his forehead as he kept the fireball steady, pointing it at a dummy on the opposite side of the room.

With a push of will, he concentrated a burst of wind affinity into the fireball, propelling it forward. The ball streaked across the room, hitting the dummy and exploding with a small boom. The force of the impact wasn't impressive, but it was a start.

He nodded to himself, satisfied with the progress.

For the next few hours, he practiced tirelessly with his affinities: fire, ice, wind, earth, and water. Each element had its own unique challenges.

Fire was destructive but volatile, requiring careful control.

Ice came more naturally to him, likely because it was Zephyx's original affinity. Its precision and elegance suited his fighting style.

Wind enhanced his speed and allowed him to manipulate projectiles.

Earth was difficult to master but had incredible defensive potential.

Water was versatile, capable of both offense and support.

He also tested the fusion of elements. The blending of fire and wind gave him a stronger and more controlled flame, and blending water and earth enabled him to control mud. These combinations created an countless number of possibilities, and he recognized that mastering them would make him a formidable opponent in battle

As he learned, his [Prodigy] trait asserted itself. Ideas that would have taken weeks to master arrived in a matter of hours. Spells that would have defeated an ordinary individual were second nature. It was as if his body and mind were specifically in harmony with magic, learning and applying knowledge at an unbelievable rate.

He couldn't help but be thankful for this trait. It had been a trait of Zephyx, yet due to his broken soul, this trait had been sealed. Now, unlocked after his soul had been repaired, it was at last his to use.

When he finally stopped, the sun was already setting, casting an orange glow through the small window of the training room. His body was drenched in sweat, and his muscles ached from the relentless practice.

He picked up his things and exited the room, leaving the key at the counter for the strict woman. She briefly nodded, her expression unreadable.

As he stepped out of the guild, the cool evening air greeted him. The streets were quieter now, with most people winding down for the day. He made his way back to the inn, his mind buzzing with everything he had learned.

He collapsed onto his bed that night, too exhausted to think about anything else. His body ached as if it had gone through a grinder, but it was a good kind of exhaustion. He closed his eyes and let the exhaustion carry him off into a deep, dreamless sleep.