"Hunting? Why are we suddenly going hunting? I'm not even of age yet," Raymond protested as he observed his father busying himself with preparations.
His father glanced over Raymond's growing physique and flashed a knowing smirk before returning to his tasks. "Take a good look at yourself. You're shaping up nicely, and it'd be a shame not to hone your skills in hunting. Besides, your age is the prime time to start."
Raymond was puzzled. It wasn't the idea of practicing hunting that puzzled him but rather the unexpected change in his father's approach. As far as his memories served him, his father had never been the one to propose such activities. This sudden shift piqued his curiosity.
Could it be related to his training? Even so, his father had always been the protective type, not one to push him into potentially risky situations like hunting.
Left with no immediate answers, Raymond sought his mother for some insight. She only chuckled, aware of his search for an ally, but she offered no clarification, simply shrugging and turning away.
"There must be something going on that I don't know about," Raymond mused, determined to get to the bottom of his parents' unusual behavior.
"Father, why the sudden interest in hunting? You've never brought this up before," Raymond inquired, a hint of confusion in his tone.
His father regarded him with a sly smile. "Look at you, son. Can't you see why I'm suggesting it now? Your progress in recent months has caught the attention of some officials in the clan. They want to see you excel, so they've granted permission for hunting practice."
Raymond furrowed his brow. "But isn't my age ideal for hunting practice anyway? Why the need for special permission?" he questioned, trying to piece together the puzzle.
His father chuckled softly. "Ah, it's not just any practice ground. This one's special because it's safe. No one dies in this practice area."
Raymond's eyes widened in astonishment at this revelation. "Really? A place like that exists?" His excitement was palpable as he envisioned the possibilities.
As far as Raymond knew from his memories, such specialized practice venues didn't exist. However, considering his knowledge only extended until he was 17, perhaps these unique training grounds emerged later in his world, catering specifically to aspiring hunters.
This new development ignited a fire of determination within Raymond. With this opportunity before him, nothing would hinder his dedication to honing his skills and pushing his limits.
"Father, what preparations should I make?" Raymond inquired, eager to understand what lay ahead.
Hours later, Raymond and his father arrived at a significant location within the village—the special training venue reserved for promising young fighters. Here, talents were nurtured and potential was honed to create formidable warriors.
The venue itself was a grand building, boasting a domed structure that exuded an aura of mystery and power. Powered by magic, it provided controlled conditions for combat training, ensuring the safety of participants even as they faced simulated challenges.
Inside, the venue was divided into three distinct categories tailored to different combat styles. There was archery for marksmen, close-combat for fighters engaging in hand-to-hand combat, and tanking for those focused on building strength and endurance.
As they walked through the corridors, Raymond observed the well-lit hallways leading to various rooms, each equipped for specific training purposes. The atmosphere was charged with anticipation as they approached their destination.
Stopping at a particular room, Raymond's father exchanged greetings with the staff and presented a permit-like item. They were granted access and ushered into the expansive room, where a spectacle awaited them.
It resembled a blend of a zoo and a stadium, with benches for spectators and a central arena-like space. Taking their seats among the onlookers, Raymond and his father waited, their excitement palpable as they anticipated their turn to utilize the training facilities.
"Are you excited? This opportunity to train here is exceptional and commendable at your age," Raymond's father remarked, his pride evident in his voice.
Raymond's eyes lit up with anticipation as he turned to his father. "Really? Then, what should I focus on there, father? I know there are three types of hunters: marksmen, close-combat, and tanks. Which one should I choose?"
His father offered a reassuring smile. "You'll have to observe first and decide for yourself. I won't make that decision for you, son. It's your journey," he replied before leading Raymond towards the training venue.
The venue resembled a miniature forest, teeming with vibrant greenery that lent a refreshing ambiance to the surroundings. Despite the artificial nature of the environment, the foliage thrived, creating a unique atmosphere within the enclosed space of flat sandy ground.
"It's remarkable how these plants thrive in this environment," Raymond thought to himself as they entered the training area.
"Pay attention here, Raymond. Your focus should be on allocating your strengths. If you're agile, consider close-quarter combat. If you have precise aim, marksmanship might suit you. And if you're strong but less mobile, tanking could be your forte," his father explained, prompting Raymond to nod in understanding.
"What you should focus on in this scenario is..." Raymond's father began, leaving Raymond to observe as they entered the training venue. Soon, the tranquility was disrupted by the appearance of monsters.
A massive boar emerged, its size comparable to that of a human. Its brown fur contrasted against its dark legs, and its white fangs gleamed—a clear indication of its magical origin.
"Level one: Begin!" announced a voice, signaling the start of the confrontation.
Raymond's father wielded a broadsword, poised and ready as the boar charged towards him with menacing intent.
Raymond positioned himself at a safe distance, keen on studying his father's approach to the challenge. The clash unfolded before him, capturing his full attention.
With lightning speed, his father executed a vertical slash, cleaving through the boar in a fluid motion. The impact created a distinct line in the air, and for a fleeting moment, blood spattered.
"Skill [Vertical Slash] activated," echoed a computerized voice, resonating throughout the venue.