Days in the Academy 2

The morning air was sharp with the scent of damp earth and polished steel. Enver stood at the edge of the training yard, his fingers tightening around the hilt of the practice sword. The weight was foreign in his grip too balanced, too clean compared to the rusted tools he'd swung in his father's fields. Around him, the sons of nobles adjusted their stances with practiced ease, their leather gloves creaking, their boots scuffing the packed dirt in perfect unison.

Enver gripped the practice sword tightly, and mimicked the instructor's movements, shifting his feet and adjusting his posture. The drills were grueling, and within minutes, sweat dripped from his brow. Enver, despite his lack of formal training, found solace in the physical labor. It was something he understood, something he could control.

"Again!" barked the instructor, a grizzled knight with a scar splitting his brow.

Enver mimicked the man's stance, feet shoulder-width apart, knees bent. His muscles burned as he swung, the blade cutting the air with a dull whump. Sweat trickled down his temple, stinging the fresh cut on his cheek—a souvenir from yesterday's sparring mishap.

To his left, a broad-shouldered nobleman's son, Dain, sneered as he executed a flawless overhead strike. "You hold it like a peasant holding a pitchfork," he muttered, just loud enough for Enver to hear.

Enver's jaw clenched, but he didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he adjusted his grip and swung again.

And again.

And again.

By midday, the trainees were given a brief respite to eat. The dining hall was a bustling room filled with the clatter of plates and the hum of conversation. Enver sat alone at the end of a long table, picking at his food. The meal—roast meat, fresh bread, and a goblet of watered wine—was far richer than anything he had eaten back home, but he barely tasted it. His mind was elsewhere, replaying the morning's lessons and steeling himself for what would come.

The afternoon brought lessons in strategy and history. The trainees gathered in a lecture hall, where a scholarly instructor with a long beard and a monotone voice droned on about the great battles of Velmoria's past. Enver struggled to stay focused, his mind wandering to the training grounds and the feel of the sword in his hand. Yet, he forced himself to listen, knowing that knowledge was as important as skill in the world of knights.

The strategy lecture took place in a dim, dusty hall lined with maps and battle-worn banners. The instructor, Master Veldrin, was a gaunt scholar with a voice like dry parchment.

"The Battle of Blackvale," he intoned, tapping a yellowed map with a bony finger, "was decided not by strength, but by deception."

Enver struggled to focus. His body ached, his eyelids heavy. Across the room, Dain and his friends passed notes, clearly bored.

But then Veldrin's gaze landed on Enver. "You. Boy. What would you have done if you commanded the Velmorians at Blackvale?"

Silence.

Enver's throat went dry. He had read about Blackvale—a desperate last stand where outnumbered forces tricked their enemies into a trap. But the nobles were watching, waiting for him to stumble.

"I'd have retreated," he said finally.

Snickers erupted. Even Veldrin raised a brow.

"Explain," the professor said.

Enver met his gaze. "The Velmorians were outnumbered three to one. They only won because they lured the enemy into a canyon and collapsed it on them. But if I were their general… I wouldn't have let my men get cornered in the first place."

A pause. Then Veldrin's lips curled. "An interesting perspective. Not one I'd endorse, but… interesting."

Dain muttered something under his breath. Enver ignored him.

Enver continued, "The Kingdom of Fran has a flat plain, giving them a place to grow a strong cavalry. The fact that Velmorian forces were able to survive the first battle and were able to retreat is already a miracle the battle for the soldiers in the rear who were assaulted by the cavalry must have been brutal as they could do nothing if the canyon had not limited the movement of the cavalry the battle would had be lost."

Veldrin, " OOh, so how would you have fought?"

Enver, "If possible, I would have fought the not in a plain by a hilly terrain so as to limit there large cavalry. Then, put the infantry in a tight formation with spearmen at the front to stop the cavalry charge and archers spread out to take out the cavalrymen with the foot soldiers as support."

Veldrin, "And you believe that this tactic would get you to victory."

Enver. "While I cannot say for certain, but I can say this without a doubt it is a heck of a lot better than just charging at the enemy and trying to kill their commanders during the chaos."

Veldrin, nodding, spoke, "Umm, a commander must think before he acts, and as you said, the battle did had many elements that had to be just right for the battle be have been won. Good thinking boy keep it up."

Enver, "Thank you, sir." he said with a smile.

Dain, watching Enver get praised, was seething with anger, but all he could do was grit his teeth.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the day ended. The trainees were dismissed to their quarters, a shared dormitory with rows of simple cots. Enver collapsed onto his bed, his body aching and his mind racing. The academy was everything he had imagined and more of a place of discipline, challenge, and opportunity. But it was also a place of uncertainty, where the weight of expectations pressed down on him like a stone.

The trainees' dormitory was a long, drafty hall filled with rows of cots. Moonlight streamed through high windows, casting silver stripes on the stone floor.

Enver lay on his thin mattress, every muscle screaming. His mind raced.

He had survived the drills, endured the taunts, and even earned a scrap of respect in the lecture hall. But the real test was yet to come.

Somewhere in the darkness, a floorboard creaked.

Enver tensed—then relaxed as Luke's lanky frame slipped into view.

"Still awake?" Luke whispered, tossing him a small pouch. Inside was a salve, sweet-smelling and cool to the touch. "For the blisters."

Enver hesitated. "Thanks"

Luke shrugged. "You're the only one here who needs them so don't worry about it."

A beat. Then Enver snorted.

As Luke retreated to his cot, Enver stared at the ceiling, the salve clutched in his hand.

I will not fail for his chance was coming. His proving ground. And he would rise—no matter who stood in his way.

Soon, in 3 weeks the academy would send the students for the dungeon expedition there as long as they could kill enough monsters he could collect a lot of mana crystals with which he could gain a lot of resources that breaking through to the 2nd rank may be possible.

-The day of the expedition-

The dungeon they were going to was the only Mid-Scale Dungeon in Kamobma. { Dungeons are divided into 4 tiers- True Dungeons( These dungeons have a hundred floors and do not disappear even when their core is destroyed but is damaged and can be revived with enough mana poured into them.) High-Rank Dungeons( These dungeons have 80-70 floors and are similar to true dungeons but are not natural-born dungeons like true dungeons.) Mid-Scale Dungeons( These dungeons have 50-30 floors depending on the mana intensity of their surroundings and can only be repaired 10 times after that the Dungeons core will not function anymore.) and New-Born Dungeons( These dungeons have 1-20 floors and can only have there core repaired 5 times.) and as the higher the number of underground floors the higher the intensity of mana so if one carelessly enters a dungeon just the share pressure from the mana might crush there heart.}

The Viltra Dungeons, the only Mid-Scale Dungeon in Kamobma was a 40-floor-deep dungeon located in the only duchy of the kingdom. The Duchy is ruled by House Viltra who control the dungeon and are the kingdom's largest supplier of mana cores making them immensely wealthy. The Red Town was named such due to the constant flow of red blood of people who challenge the dungeon making the road constantly red more of a camp than a town except for the core area most of the town was made up of small huts and tents.

After a day's rest, they were briefed by the professors that they would go dungeon diving in 2 days and were told of the necessary supplies they needed. So, the next day went towards shopping an extra sword, a spare, extra arrows, more food, a small tent, and other necessary items enough for a week are two if needed.

Finally, after all that waiting finally the day has come for Enver to face a Dungeon.