The doors opened. Blinded by the sudden flood of light, he stumbled slightly as Vel pulled him along. He adjusted his footing just in time, nearly tripping on the stairs as he was ushered into a seat. Around him, the room buzzed with the sounds of chattering voices. Slowly, his vision cleared, and he took in his surroundings.
The room was enormous. Rows of desks formed concentric circles around the center, where a tall man stood beside a sturdy desk and an expansive board and a large fireplace. The walls were a spectacle, adorned with weapons of every kind, staffs, halberds, swords, spears, each bearing a golden plaque inscribed with the name of its wielder. Towering banners reached from the ceiling down to the polished floors, their vibrant colors a testament to ancient glory. Paintings lined the walls, each depicting historical landmarks, legendary figures, and fantastical creatures with such exquisite detail it felt as if the subjects might step out of their frames at any moment.
The first word that came to mind was lively. The energy of the room matched the grandeur of its decor, and he found himself momentarily lost in the scenery.
"Wow," he murmured under his breath.
His seatmate, a girl with an easy smile and an air of confidence, leaned toward him, her elbow propped casually on the shared desk.
"First time?" she quipped.
"...Yes," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
Her grin widened. "Figures. I had the same reaction too... what was it? Oh, about a year ago, I think."
He raised an eyebrow. "So this isn't your first time here?"
She shook her head, her long hair swaying slightly. "Nope. I'm a second-year student."
"Second year?" he repeated, his tone tinged with confusion.
"Yep," she replied, clearly amused. "You see, 'otherworlder,' we have to rack up a certain number of credits to graduate. It takes a few years to get there."
"I… see," he said, though he didn't, not really.
Before he could ask further, they were interrupted by the arrival of a third student, a messy-looking boy climbing the stairs to their row. His uniform was a disaster, wrinkled and stained, with a conspicuous blue blotch on his collar.
"Yo, Rel," the newcomer greeted casually.
"Ah, heyo, Jax," the girl responded, glancing up at him.
Xora immediately recognized him. This was his roommate.
"So," Jax said, eyeing Xora, "I see you've met my new roomie."
Rel tilted her head, first at Xora, then back at Jax. "Oh, I didn't realize you two were roommates," she said. Leaning closer to Xora, she whispered conspiratorially, "Just so you know, he's a total slob. Went through, like, thirty roommates before you because of all the junk he hoards."
Xora nodded slowly, unsure of how to respond.
"I can hear you, you know," Jax interjected, looking genuinely offended. "A slob? I just like to keep a few things, that's all!"
Rel smirked. "A few things? Like thirty toothpicks, that weird can, a sponge, and… what was it? A single glove? Honestly, I don't even want to know what's going on in your head."
Xora watched their banter in silence, unsure whether to laugh or stay out of it altogether. Deciding it was safest to remain quiet, he focused on listening instead.
The conversation meandered to an odd topic: the best snack to eat after consuming a mystic shroom. Xora's mind raced, desperately searching for something to contribute.
'Think… think…' he urged himself. His internal monologue spiraled: "Hey guys, I'm a creature from another dimension! Pretty sick, right?" 'No! That's stupid. Idiotic. Naive.'
Finally, he blurted, "Hey, uh, lava cakes are pretty good, right?"
A moment of silence. They both stared at him, perplexed. But before they could respond, a commanding voice cut through the chatter.
"May I have your attention?"
The speaker was an imposing man with slicked-back, greying hair styled into a perfect pompadour. His attire was sharp and authoritative: a tailored vest, silk pants, and a dark coat draped over his shoulders. He brushed his neatly trimmed beard as he surveyed the room with an air of practiced authority.
"Many of you know me as Kristoff. You may refer to me as Mr. Farov." He perched on the edge of his desk, rifling through a stack of papers before clearing his throat. "This course will focus on the history of adventuring."
Groans rippled through the room, including from Rel and Jax. Mr. Farov ignored them.
"Before we delve into specifics, let me address the question on many of your minds: Why bother with an adventuring course when you can just stroll into the nearest guild and sign up without a fancy degree?"
BOOM!
His palm slammed against the desk, silencing the room instantly.
"Because," he said, his voice low and deliberate, "without preparation, nine out of ten adventurers die on their first quest. Random traps, unstable terrain, basic ignorance of monster biology these are the killers. This course exists to ensure your survival and success."
He turned to the board, where he sketched ten vertical lines. One by one, he crossed out nine of them, leaving only one intact.
"One out of ten. That's your odds if you walk in unprepared. But with the right knowledge? You can tip the scales."
He began writing the course title: Adventuring 101.
"The banners, weapons, and paintings you see here are more than decoration. They represent those who graduated from this institution, individuals who became legends, pioneers, and innovators. Their discoveries technological, magical, and otherwise have shaped our world."
He gestured to a painting of a red-haired woman in a mage's cap, emerging triumphantly from the depths of a dark cave.
"She revolutionized magic devices and became a cornerstone of both the Adventurers' Guild and the Mage's Hub."
From his pocket, he produced a crystal similar to the ones used by the staff to amplify their voices.
"Throughout this course, you'll learn about figures like her and how to follow in their footsteps."
________________________________________________________________________________________________
An hour later, the class concluded just like that. The instructor had gone on and on about various minor figures and how they contributed to the building of the Ironkeep Dam, preventing the flooding of the northern part of the Dawn's territory.
Xora left the classroom this time on his own. He walked alone as students passed by him on their way to their next classes. Each student's lessons differed from one another, reflecting the wide range of adventurer occupations. Different classes came with unique advantages and disadvantages, shaping the paths each student would take.
Rel aspired to become a revival adventurer a specialist tasked with delving into dungeons, caves, or other dangerous locations to locate, prioritize, and revive missing or incapacitated adventurers. Her lessons mostly focused on safety, practicing her chanting, and balancing defensive and healing techniques.
Jax, on the other hand, aimed to be a frontline adventurer. His training was physically demanding, incorporating medical lessons, weapon and armor training, and survival tactics to prepare him for the rigors of combat.
As for Xora, the princess and the royal family had managed his application process. When he first checked his schedule, he was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of lessons, training, and work assigned to him. He compiled a list of the various types of training he would undergo:
Weapon Training Archery Training Armor Training Medical Training Survival Training Trap Training Dungeon Training Cave Training Monster Training Demon Training Hand-to-Hand Training Magic Training (with assistance from the Mage course) Faith Training (with assistance from the Church course) Skill Training Defense Training Horse Training Madness Training Field Boss Training Poison Training Adventuring History Dungeon Exploration Monster Identification Cave Exploration Adventuring Etiquette Food Creation Goods and Loot Management Maps Cultural Awareness Other-World Protocol Teamwork Language Learning
Adventuring courses were not like typical academic studies. They were hands-on, meaning students were placed in real-world scenarios to learn and work within those environments. This approach was intentional, offering practical experience and fostering collaboration with others. To facilitate this, the Adventurers' Guild had constructed an artificial dungeon beneath the academy building.
Xora had a few minutes to spare before his next class. He left the building, wandering along the academy's numerous paths until he reached a patch of freshly cut grass. Lowering his head, he searched for something. It took a few minutes, but eventually, he found it, an anthill.
"Finally."
He squatted down, placing his finger near the entrance of the anthill. Slowly, his finger darkened and morphed into a grotesque, fleshy maw, devouring the countless ants scurrying around it.
It's been hard finding sustenance to feast on. Regular mortal food is nice, but eating living matter seems to boost my experience faster, he thought.
He opened his system.
LEVEL 3 EXP 129/250
+1 +1 +1
Each ant granted him one experience point. Strangely, the minor eldritch beast he had fought earlier also provided only a single experience point. Each time he leveled up, the required experience increased by fifty but reset back to zero.
I really need a better plan if I'm not going to eat humans...
He was so absorbed in thought that he didn't hear someone approach.
"What are you doing?"
...
He was caught.
________________________________________________________________________________________________
History Lessons from Mr. Farov
The Metal Slinger
"I know this isn't one of those adventuring-related courses, but it's... peculiar enough that I should tell you about it," Mr. Farov said, coughing as he added more wood to the crackling fireplace beside him. "Good thing we got this installed."
"It happened a hundred years ago, just a few weeks before the Second Demonic War. Riots were breaking out due to the stress and overwork caused by the kingdom's preparations for the Demon King and his forces. Rebellions flared up everywhere, and one particularly nasty uprising occurred at the first gate of the capital."
He rose from his chair and reached for a book from the top of the crowded bookcase.
"It was a grim time. Most of our main forces were stationed near the demonic site, preparing for its eventual opening. The rebels seized the opportunity and launched their attack. It was eerily similar to the revolution faced by the first king, Lionel Dawn, at the hands of his third son, Euric. But unlike that revolution, this one failed. And the reason was the mythical figure known as the Metal Slinger."
Amidst the flickering firelight, Mr. Farov continued, his tone more serious now.
"Amidst the chaos and carnage, there emerged a figure unlike any other, a man the likes of whom we had never seen before and have not seen since. They called him the Metal Slinger because no one knew his true name. He was taller than most men, his presence commanding attention even amid the chaos of battle. He wore a strange kind of armor, not the gleaming steel of our knights or the hardened leather of our rangers. Instead, it was a dull green fabric, sturdy yet strange, covered in countless pockets and adorned with indecipherable markings. On his head was a rounded helmet, simple, effective, with a short brim that shaded his eyes like a forest canopy."
Lowering his voice, he leaned in, his expression conspiratorial as the students listened intently.
"But it was the object he carried that truly set him apart. It was no sword or bow, no staff or spear. It was... a thing of blackened metal, long and narrow, with a handle and a curious tube at one end. When he wielded it, the very air seemed to split with a deafening crack, a sound like thunder caged and unleashed. Enemies fell where they stood, clutching wounds no blade could have inflicted. And he could strike from afar, farther than even our finest archers. He carried small, glinting objects that he fed into the device like a blacksmith feeding fuel to a forge, and with each one, the terrible thunder roared again."
He paused, a wistful expression crossing his face.
"He came to the aid of the Dawn's forces during the battle. The city walls had been breached, and our soldiers were retreating. The rebels pressed forward, certain of their victory. But then, out of the smoke and rubble, he appeared. The Metal Slinger stood firm, his weapon spitting fire and thunder. The enemy faltered, confused and terrified, and in their disarray, we rallied. We drove them from the city that day. But when the dust settled, the strange man was gone, as mysteriously as he had appeared."
Mr. Farov smiled faintly.
"And that was the beginning of the tales, stories of other worlds, of the Metal Slinger. A strange figure in our history, almost as if he had answered our call like a summoned champion, only to vanish just as quickly."