Sam looked at the spot where the fairy had vanished, the events unfolding too quickly for him to fully grasp. He shook his head, returning to his senses and turning to face his group. They seemed just as confused as he was.
"Alright, everyone," Sam said, his voice steady. "We should hurry, pick a weapon, and get familiar with it while we still have time."
Everyone nodded in agreement. Even though their group already had weapons, extra ones wouldn't hurt. Sam moved toward the armory, leading the group as they followed closely behind.
The shelves in front of him were lined with normal-looking swords. But as he observed them more carefully, a translucent window appeared before his eyes.
[Tutorial Sword]
[Rarity]: Common
[Durability]: [100/100]
[Description]: The welcome gift of the system to the tutorial participants.
Sam, amused by the new feature, turned to Michael and asked him to try looking at the item the same way he had. Michael raised an eyebrow, clearly confused. "Ummm, huh?" The reaction was enough to confirm that it was a normal system function, not something triggered by Sam's trait.
With that thought in mind, they continued walking, keeping an eye out for anything that might be a hidden treasure or something of value—after all, Sam considered himself lucky. "Luck 100, show me something good," Sam thought to himself, hopeful for a fortunate find.
As they ventured deeper into the armory, a sudden realization hit Sam. He quickly leaned in and whispered to Michael, urging him to hide the gun. "We might need it later, especially if things get... out of hand," Sam said, his voice low and serious.
Michael nodded in understanding, his expression unreadable. It seemed he had already been thinking along the same lines. In fact, Sam had noticed earlier that Michael had hidden the weapon almost instinctively when they first woke up.
As they reached the inner zone of the armory, they were met with something unexpected—a noticeable shift. The shelves that had once appeared orderly and typical now seemed to hold items of a much higher caliber. Something was different here, and Sam couldn't shake the feeling that this was where the real treasures lay.
[Tutorial High-Quality-Spear]
[Rarity]: Uncommon
[Durability]: [100/100]
[Description]: The welcome gift of the system to the tutorial participants.
Nate was the first to notice the change, his sharp eyes scanning the newly appeared weapons in the inner zone of the armory. After a moment of consideration, he turned to the group with a suggestion. "We should pick spears. We don't know what kind of monsters we'll face, but keeping our distance is always the better approach."
Everyone nods in agreement. My dad, a combat medic, only learned to use spearheads once. He's not an expert with weapons, but he used to train with them, So at least he can teach us the basic techniques.
As everyone selected their weapons, I already had one—a sword I had picked up from home before being sent here.
[High Carbon Steel Sword]
[Rarity]: Uncommon
[Durability]: [100/100]
[Description]: Crafted by High, developed using physical law technology, with a good balance of properties.
So, what I needed was a shield. I had lost mine before being sent here and needed a new one. The shields in the armory mostly looked like common grade. I wasn't sure how good common grade was, but I figured uncommon would be better, right?
At the innermost part of the armory, we found my shield, placed on the same shelf alongside the 10 weapons. Just by looking at it, I could tell it was better than the ones we had passed. But I wasn't going to change my mind—I had already decided on the shield. So, I walked forward, picked it up, and examined it.
[Tutorial Top-Quality Shield]
[Rarity]: Rare
[Durability]: [100/100]
[Description]: The welcome gift of the system to the tutorial participants.
Sam smiled, feeling a sense of satisfaction as they finished picking their weapons. He glanced around, noticing other groups of people beginning to enter the armory and select their own gear. The sound of footsteps and soft murmurs filled the air as the once silent room now buzzed with activity.
Nate, always practical, spoke up. "Let's hurry and grab a survival kit." His voice cut through the noise, and the group quickly moved toward the backpacks neatly arranged near the exit. Everyone picked out a kit, with Sam's hands lingering for a moment as he checked the contents of his. He took a deep breath, mentally preparing for what lay ahead.
Afterward, We made his way to an open spot at the edge of the armory. We found a quiet corner and sat down for a brief moment, leaning against the wall. The weight of everything still hadn't fully sunk in, but Sam knew it would soon enough. For now, he just needed a moment to collect himself before the trial officially began.
Twenty minutes later, Nate stood up and declared, "It's time." The group quickly got to their feet and followed his lead toward the northern barrier, away from the starting point. During our rest, we had already planned to explore the north first. If we didn't find anything worthwhile, we could adjust our course and head east, following a clockwise direction.
When we arrived near the barrier, the group of spearmen began practicing under my father's guidance. Although he wasn't an expert with weapons, his combat medic training had included spearhead basics, and he used that experience to teach them how to handle their spears.
I had already informed the group that I didn't need spear training. I'd been practicing with a sword and shield for over a year, almost daily, at my penthouse in downtown Manhattan.
While the others trained, I stepped aside to train alone. Taking up my sword and shield, I assumed a fighting stance, wielding them carefully as I began warming up. I adjusted my muscles to the familiar movements, ensuring I was comfortable wielding the sword. Gradually, I increased the speed of my swings, little by little, until I felt the flow of my movements align with my intentions.
As we continued training, more than half the participants had already finished selecting their weapons. Some noticed our group practicing and decided to follow suit, beginning their own training sessions. Others simply observed from a distance. I could feel their gazes, and from their expressions, it seemed like a few recognized me. However, none of them approached, likely intimidated by the sight of me wielding my sword with intensity.
Among them, a group of younger men, who appeared to be in their early twenties, stood huddled together, whispering and stealing glances in my direction. One of them, braver than the rest, eventually stepped forward. His excitement was evident as he approached me, his eyes wide with both awe and nervous energy.
"Excuse me, sir," he said, his voice tinged with eagerness, "are you Samuel Barlow?"
I paused mid-swing, lowering my sword slightly as I turned to face him. His expression was one of pure admiration, and behind him, his friends were nudging each other, clearly impressed that he had the courage to speak up.
This situation felt oddly familiar to me. Back in the world I knew, I was quite well-known within the investor circles. Many aspiring individuals would go out of their way to make a connection with me, hoping to tap into my success. These young guys must be fresh entrants into the high-stakes world of Wall Street. Their eyes still carried that unmistakable spark—burning with ambition, brimming with youthful hope, and untouched by the corrosive greed and cynicism that often came with the territory of capitalism.
The one who had spoken earlier stood there, still waiting for my response, his excitement evident. His friends, hanging back, exchanged nervous but excited glances, as if this moment was as monumental to them as a rookie trader meeting a legendary mentor for the first time. I straightened up, letting the shield rest against my side, and gave him a faint smile, curious to see what this interaction might lead to.
I smiled warmly and said, "Yes, I am." But my tone quickly shifted to seriousness as I continued, "I know what you're hoping for, but now isn't the time. Our lives are still at risk. You'd better focus on what you've learned, take the necessary risks, and survive. If you can manage that, let's meet again outside the tutorial. Good luck."
The young man was momentarily stunned by my firm tone, his earlier excitement giving way to a more thoughtful expression. When he snapped back to reality, he quickly said, "Thank you for your advice, sir, but… could I get your number? If I survive, I'll call you."
I paused, caught off guard by his stubbornness. It wasn't the entitled persistence I sometimes saw in others; it was something different—an unyielding determination not to let an opportunity slip away. Despite the dire circumstances, I couldn't help but respect that.
With a nod, I pulled out a notepad from the survival kit, scribbled down my number, and handed it to him. "Here," I said, "but make sure you earn the right to use it. Survive first. That's your real priority."
He nodded earnestly, clutching the piece of paper like it was a lifeline, before thanking me profusely and heading back to his group. As I watched them go, I couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope that their youthful determination might just see them through this ordeal.
After handing over my number to the young man, I refocused and continued my training. As I wielded my sword, a thought crossed my mind—could I enhance my movements using mental focus? I decided to test it out, channeling my mental energy to synchronize with the flow of my sword and shield. It was as if my mind extended along the blade and shield, helping me observe and refine each motion.
With this heightened awareness, I began correcting myself, adjusting my posture and movements for maximum efficiency. Each swing felt sharper, each block sturdier. The adjustments made my attacks and defenses more effective, but despite my improvements, I didn't feel the distinct sense of a skill forming. Perhaps I needed real contact—something tangible to strike—to truly push myself and gain results.
I glanced around, considering my options, before setting my eyes on the barrier. It seemed sturdy enough to handle some punishment without breaking. Deciding to test my weapon's power, I approached it and took my fighting stance.
I swung my sword slowly at first, warming up and feeling the rhythm of my movements. Then, I prepared for a powerful strike. My body coiled like a spring as I swung left and right, gathering momentum with each motion. Finally, with my sword raised high above my head, I unleashed my full strength. My right hand guided the blade downward in a powerful arc, aimed straight at the barrier.
"Huhhhh!" I exhaled forcefully, pouring every ounce of strength into the strike.
Then.
Crack….Crack…k…k…crash!!.
The barrier at the northern is broken.
Ding!
Ding!
Ding!