The autumn morning light filtered through the trees, blanketing the ground like a golden carpet. Birds perched on branches, chirping as they hopped from twig to twig. At the base of the massive oaks, various mushrooms flourished under the protective shade.
Before the fungi could enjoy the fresh air for long, they were plucked from the earth by a hand accompanied by a grumble.
"This one, and this one is edible too."
Garlan, dressed in a light vest and shorts, was drenched in sweat during his morning run. He scanned the forest floor for wild game and foraged goods. The burlap sack on his back was already half-full with mushrooms and wild fruits, jostling rhythmically with his pace.
To save money on groceries, he had taken to "looting" the wilderness during his morning workouts. Anything that looked remotely edible went into the bag—he'd sort it out later. While he wasn't exactly destitute, Lia's ruthless "culinary experiments" were vaporizing his pantry at an alarming rate. He felt the need to teach her the meaning of "every grain is hard-earned." Whenever she cooked, she acted as if the ingredients grew on trees—which, technically, these mushrooms did, but that wasn't the point. If a dish tasted slightly off, she'd toss the entire pot and start over without a second thought.
Garlan's 15-kilometer run ended just as he neared the house. He slowed to a walk, leveling his breathing and heart rate, before dropping to the ground for a set of push-ups.
He wasn't entirely sure how a "Warrior" was supposed to train. Back in his previous life, manga and anime never gave a detailed curriculum for physical conditioning, and Denken wasn't much help with martial training either. Still, his old-world fitness routines were effective enough at building raw physical capacity.
After the recent chaos, Garlan realized his control over his body was lacking. He couldn't yet tap into the true potential of this vessel. Simply put: as a warrior, he needed to hone his flesh until it was a weapon. If he didn't become stronger, he wouldn't even have the ability to run away when faced with a truly powerful demon.
The world was dangerous, especially this far north. Being closer to the Northern Highlands meant a higher frequency of monsters and demons. Without strength, one could die a meaningless death on any given Tuesday. Despite the Hero Himmel defeating the Demon King decades ago, the remnants were becoming increasingly active, slaughtering villages and forcing the Northern Nations to form a coalition army.
Restless bastards, Garlan thought, counting his reps.
By next year, once I'm stronger, I'll take Lia to the Central Lands.
The Era Meteor Shower was only four years away. Spending the festival in a lively city sounded better than staying in the sticks. Rohguri was a major hub, but it paled in comparison to the Imperial Capital, Iceberg. Even though the shadow of his old organization loomed there, the interior was safer than the demon-infested borders.
As long as he stayed under the radar, he should be fine. Information on "expendable" assets like him was usually scrubbed. Unless someone from his past recognized him—but his old commander was long dead. No one should know his face.
"198... 199... 200!"
He pushed himself up, his muscles screaming in that satisfying, post-workout way. For a moment, he felt lightheaded, but then a surge of exhilaration followed—the feeling of being able to command every fiber of his being.
I really was out of shape, he mused. This body's base stats were terrifying; it just needed the right stimuli to wake up. As expected of a "Shadow Warrior" elite. In his previous life, he wouldn't have dreamed of doing this many reps without collapsing.
He shook out his arms, brushed the dirt from his skin, and picked up his sack of foraged goods.
SHHH—
A brilliant beam of light shot from the ridge, cutting through the morning mist. Lia's [Basic Offensive Magic]—or "Zoltraak"—streaked toward a massive boulder on a distant hill. However, before it could reach the target, the beam lost its focus. The trajectory wobbled and veered off-course, dissipating into nothing before it could leave so much as a scorch mark.
"You're tired. Take a break. Your concentration is wavering; you can't maintain precision like that," Denken said. His voice was flat as ever, but he looked the part of a proper magic tutor.
Though he'd been "tricked" into the role, Denken was teaching Lia with genuine dedication. Watching them made Garlan feel a twinge of guilt. Maybe I shouldn't have been so cold-blooded about swindling my friend into free labor.
Lia lowered her "magic wand"—which was still just a charred stick—and sat on the grass, panting. For the past few days, she had been dragging herself out of bed to train whenever Garlan started his morning routine. Under Denken's guidance, she practiced basic defensive and offensive spells.
Even though she was only "teenaged" by elven standards, her mana capacity was already beyond human comprehension. Mana grows over centuries; long-lived species have an unfair head start. Lia wasn't just a reservoir of power, though—she was a prodigy. Denken had admitted on the first day that her natural talent far exceeded his own.
She's an elf, after all. Reed would be drooling with envy if he saw this.
To exhaust a mana pool as vast as hers required training of staggering intensity. Garlan was impressed. He'd only mentioned the idea of her learning magic once, yet she had taken to it with incredible passion. Even before Denken arrived, she'd spend her spare time buried in the History of Magic books he'd bought her.
I really should get her a proper staff, Garlan thought, looking at the blackened stick in her hand. That thing is just sad.
___
There's a few advance chapters on my P@treon
Usually upload 2 Chapters a day in there, except Saturday and Sunday
[email protected]/Sp1ced
If you're new to this stuff just replace "@" with "a" for the right link ^^