Rosh is reflecting on how his Necromancy level had mysteriously increased, even though he only practices mana sensing, when he pushes the these thoughts aside. There's no time to dwell on magic, not when his next class is swordsmanship. He sighs, straightens his back, and leaves the training hall.
The air outside is crisp, and as he walks toward the sword training area, his mind keeps going back to the status window and the skills he's awakened. He's unsure what to make of them, especially the sudden skill boosts.
He is still thinking, "Will they stay?" he wonders. "Can I rely on them, or will they disappear one day?"
As questions swirl in his mind, Rosh doesn't notice he's already reached the sword training hall until he hears the shuffling of feet.
Looking around, he sees rows of wooden dummies and practice swords lined up against the walls. Other students, some mages, some clearly warriors, are gathering, chatting nervously as they wait for the instructor. Rosh finds a spot and leans against the wall, feeling the weight of the day slowly creeping up on him.
Moments later, the door slams open, and a tall man with a commanding presence strides in. His face is stern, his steps purposeful, and the room goes dead silent.
The man, Mark, stops in front of the group, surveying them with sharp eyes. His voice booms, "Silence, everyone! I'm Mark, and I'll be instructing you in swordsmanship."
"Let's understand some harsh reality first." Mark paces back and forth, letting the tension build before continuing, "As I see that some of you are mages. I can see it in your eyes, that You think swordsmanship isn't for you, right? That all you need is your magic?"
He lets out a cold chuckle, stopping to stare at one particularly scrawny student who looks ready to bolt. "You might be wondering why you are wasting time with swords when you could be practicing your spells."
One brave student in the back murmurs, "Well… yeah… why should mages learn this…?"
Mark's eyes snap to him, and the student flinches. Mark's voice is like a hammer when he speaks again, "Why? Because this is not a game. This is not a practice ground where you can safely cast spells from a distance. You're going to be in real battles—dungeons filled with unimaginable monsters that won't just stand still for your magic. There are creatures out there with magic resistance, others that are faster than your spells."
"What will you do when your spells fail? Just stand there and wait for them to rip you apart?" he approaches that student and asks.
A heavy silence follows as Mark scans the room, making sure his point has hit home. "No. You won't. You'll be dead before you can even blink. Mages are magicaly strong, but if you can't dodge, if you can't hold your ground for even a moment, you'll die."
The words sink in, and Rosh feels a shiver down his spine. The truth behind Mark's words is undeniable.
"Understand this," Mark continues, "A strong body is crucial for everyone—mages, warriors, doesn't matter. You need balance, precision, and stamina. And that's what we'll start with today. Strengthening your bodies and then learning basic sword techniques."
Mark gestures toward the large field behind the hall. "Follow me," he commands, and the students obediently trail after him.
When they reach the field, Rosh's eyes widen. It's massive, far bigger than anything he expected. He glances at the other students and notices their equally shocked expressions.
Mark points at the field. "Warm up, and then give me ten laps."
There's a collective groan. One student whispers, "Ten laps? Around that? We'll be dead before we even start sword practice." Another replies, "I didn't sign up for a marathon…"
Despite their groans, they warm up a bit and starts running.
Rosh stretches a bit, preparing himself, but he can't help but smirk at the exaggerated reactions around him.
"Huh, the instructor is correct. I have seen those monsters, they are really scary. We have to be able to do this much at least." He mummurs to himself.
As they begin running, it quickly becomes clear this isn't a simple jog. By the third lap, some students are already panting, their legs wobbling like jelly. Sweat pours down their faces, and one after another, they start slowing down.
A few students stop altogether, hunched over, trying to catch their breath. Just then, Mark suddenly appears next to them, his face twisted into a terrifying scowl and he Whispers to them in a scary tone. "What are you stopping for? Keep running! Run like your life depends on it!"
The students shout in terror, then scramble to their feet and start running again, legs pumping as fast as they can manage. "Is he a monster or something?" one student mutters between gasps. "He's worse than a monster!" another wheezes.
Rosh keeps his pace steady. Though it's getting hard to keep it up, he manages to push through.
"I have been training for five years now, and the recent appearance of the window also seems to have made me stronger a bit." Even though he is strong, it's still getting harder to keep it up. His shirt clings to him, drenched in sweat, and his breath comes in ragged bursts. Still, he forces himself to finish all ten laps.
When the final lap is done, the students collapse to the ground, gasping for air. They've barely caught their breath when Mark suddenly appears behind them again, looming over them like a shadow. "What are you lying around for? There's no time to waste, give me ten sets of push-ups, right now!"
Groans echo across the field, but everyone quickly drops down and starts doing push-ups with their trembling hands, too scared to defy the instructor. Rosh's arms tremble with exhaustion, but he keeps going. This is insane… he thinks.
No sooner do they finish the push-ups than Mark shouts again. "Now, jumping jacks! Move it!"
The students reluctantly jump to their feet, legs wobbling as they try to keep up. "This guy's a demon," someone whispers, and another student nods in agreement. "No, he's the demon…"
The strength training goes on for what feels like hours. Pull-ups, squats, burpees, each exercise more grueling than the last. Every time someone slows down, Mark is there, his terrifying grin making them scramble to keep moving. "I swear, he enjoys this," one student mutters under his breath. "He probably dreams of torturing students…"
Four hours later, the students are completely spent. They lie on the ground, panting heavily, utterly drained. One student croaks, "I can't… feel my legs…" Another groans, "This is… this is how i die…"
Rosh stares up at the sky, his body aching all over. He's never felt this tired in his life.
"This training is too intense," he thinks, closing his eyes for a moment. "I don't have the strength to practice magic or swordsmanship anymore today. I just want to go home and rest…"