The morning air in the training hall was thick with sweat and the metallic scent of steel, the clashing of blades and rhythmic footwork echoing through the vast chamber. Amukelo stood near the edge, watching the rest of the class begin their warm-up drills. His grip tightened slightly on the hilt of his practice sword. Something weighed heavy on his mind, and he wasn't going to ignore it.
He approached the instructor. "Sir," Amukelo said, his voice low but clear.
The instructor turned his head slightly, one brow raised. "What is it?"
Amukelo hesitated for a second, then said with quiet seriousness, "Is there a way to defeat enemies in a fight without... without wounding them badly? Without killing them?"
The instructor's brow furrowed. "We're fighting with blades, Amukelo. That's not exactly how it works. The entire principle of swordsmanship is to overcome the enemy. And that usually comes with blood."
"I understand that," Amukelo replied, "but... on our last quest, we were attacked by a group of bandits. One of them was down, and I had a clear chance to end him. But I didn't. I just severed his arm. My friends said I shouldn't hesitate next time. That we got lucky. But it's been bothering me. Isn't there any way to disable multiple enemies without killing them?"
The instructor went quiet for a while, eyes narrowing slightly, not in judgment but thought. Then he sighed and looked away toward the rest of the training hall.
"You've got a good heart, young man," he said eventually. "And that's rare in this line of work. The truth is... yes, there are techniques to subdue without killing. Pressure point strikes. Joint dislocations. Disarms. Even takedowns that render someone unconscious. But they require precision, training, and timing. They're not part of the standard curriculum here because most people—especially adventurers—don't have the luxury to think like that in combat. When it's your life or theirs, most go for the kill."
Amukelo nodded slowly, absorbing every word.
The instructor continued, "What you did with that bandit? That was one of the ways. You neutralized the threat without taking a life. The man won't fight again anytime soon, but he'll live. You made a hard call, and it wasn't the wrong one."
He shifted his stance and looked Amukelo dead in the eye. "But... if you're serious about wanting to fight that way consistently, you'd need specialized training. I can't tailor the group lessons around just you."
"I understand," Amukelo said, his voice steadier now. "But I'll do whatever I need to make that happen. I want to learn."
The instructor gave a small, approving nod. "Good. Keep proving you're worth investing in, and maybe someone will take you on. Now get moving. Class is starting."
Amukelo returned to his place, but something had changed in his step. He wasn't lighter, exactly—but he felt more assured. Like a weight had shifted off his shoulders, even if the burden of the path ahead had only grown.
In the following weeks group no longer needed to scrounge for coin day after day. The quests they took were harder and paid better, giving them the space they needed to breathe—and to grow.
Amukelo threw himself into training. From sunrise to sundown, he was either at the facility, reviewing footwork, refining strikes, or studying with whoever could give him advice. He started studying non-lethal techniques on his own, watching how others disarmed, tripped, or struck with the blunt side of weapons. The process was slow, but every time he sparred, he applied something new—redirecting force instead of clashing head-on, aiming for disabling strikes rather than fatal ones.
Pao, meanwhile, sat often at the edge of the training yard, grimoire open on her lap. Her new ruby spellbook had captured her full attention, the pages filled with arcane diagrams and water-based constructs. The spell was complex—a clone made of water that could mimic basic casting—but her progress was steady. She also continued to improve her teleportation grimoire, focusing on improvong the size an the range of the portals. Bao sometimes teased her for talking to herself while running calculations aloud, but Pao never lost her excitement.
Bao, for once, seemed more relaxed. Less tense about whether or not she was "keeping up." After seeing just how powerful her rune arrows were in real combat, she shifted her focus toward mastering her archery again. The enhanced arrows she'd bought—explosive, piercing, elemental—gave her incredible versatility, and she knew she didn't need to match the others in swordplay to be just as effective. She still trained her blade, but it was more for emergency defense. Her confidence had grown.
Idin made a change too. He added a shield to his kit. It was a broad, sturdy thing—not flashy, but dependable. With his already-strong stance and center of gravity, the shield suited him well. He found himself able to hold a line better, absorb hits more confidently, and protect others during sparring sessions. It also gave him a new angle of approach—pushing, deflecting, setting up others to strike.
Bral, intrigued by what Bao had said about rune scrolls, began experimenting with magical enhancements. He didn't become a mage overnight, but he bought a few utility scrolls and started working them into his fighting style—blades that could ignite briefly, or scrolls that reinforced his boots with wind magic for brief dashes. It wasn't elegant, but Bral wasn't trying to be elegant. It was effective. And flashy. He liked both.
The months rolled by with relentless progress. At first, when they agreed to stay in Llyn and train until they reached Silver Rank Seven, the goal had felt distant—something that would take at least a year, maybe more. But things had changed. They had changed. After every quest, every spar, every hour spent sweating on the training floor or poring over grimoires, they were improving at an rapid pace.
Their quests grew harder, but so did their synergy. Their movements became fluid, their calls mid-battle sharper and more decisive. Mistakes that once could have ended in near-death were now brief stumbles, immediately corrected.
One quest stood out in particular—an assignment to eliminate a mutated spider that had made its nest near the lake to the east, contaminating the waters with its venom and hunting travelers who tried to cross. When they arrived, the thing was even bigger than they expected. Its thick carapace gleamed dark green in the moonlight, and acid leaked from its mandibles, hissing against the soil. But this quest played to their strength.
Amukelo would rush forward to bait its attacks. It tried to bind him with webs, but he danced between the threads. The moment it reared back to spit acid, Bao fired a runic arrow that exploded at its abdomen, forcing it to stagger. Pao immediately cast a clone of herself to draw attention, while Idin moved forward with his shield raised, protecting Bral as he prepared a sword enhanced with wind magic.
When the spider finally lunged, it was met with a wall of resistance. Idin held it in place just long enough for Amukelo to leap over its back and sever two of its legs with quick, clean blows. It didn't take long after that. The coordination, the power—it all came together. The spider shrieked one last time before collapsing beside the poisoned lake.
It wasn't easy. But it wasn't chaos either.
Their reputation was catching up to them. More often than not, they now found themselves recognized at the Adventurer's Association. Other adventurers glanced their way with nods of approval—or envy. They didn't go bragging or showing off, but their results spoke for themselves.
Rumors started circulating. "The Eternal Ember Guild. Fastest-growing silver guild in Llyn." It wasn't loud fame, but it was spreading, quiet and steady, the kind that sticks.
Just after finishing a quest—clearing out a den of beasts plaguing the farmlands—they stood together after receiving their reward. A few adventurers approached them, clapped Bral and Idin on the back, and offered grins. "Another one done, huh? You're moving fast." "Silver Rank four already?" They offered congratulations and moved along.
The moment they were alone, Bao let out a low whistle. "Wow... I can't believe we progressed so quickly," she said, shaking her head. "And it's not like we've been scraping by with our lives every time."
"We've grown," Bral said, hands on his hips, scanning the room. "We really have. Feels different now. We don't panic anymore. We move like a proper team."
"It's been what?" Idin said. "Less than half a year since we arrived at Llyn? And we're already Silver Rank Five. At this rate, it won't be long before we hit Silver Rank Seven."
"Yeah," Pao added, her voice softer but firm. "But honestly... it's all thanks to Amukelo."
Amukelo blinked, caught off guard. "Huh? What?"
Bral nodded, completely serious. "Don't act surprised. You work harder than any of us. When the rest of us take breaks, you're still out there. Either in the facility or working on your technique. Every time I see you train, it makes me feel guilty if I'm not doing the same."
"He's right," Idin said, giving him a light punch on the shoulder. "You push yourself harder than anyone. And you're the strongest of us now. Only me and Bao are are at the same rank as you, and that's only because we've been doing this longer. But your skill? Your progress? It's scary. In the best way."
Amukelo looked down, a little overwhelmed. He wasn't used to compliments—especially not this kind. His voice lowered. "I'm just doing my best. I... I want to be strong enough so none of you have to be scared. I've seen what it's like to be helpless. I don't want anyone I care about to feel that."
Pao smiled softly at him, eyes glowing with quiet pride.
"Anyway," Bral said, clearing his throat and grinning, "I think it's time we take this even further. I've been looking into personal training. You know—sessions with instructors focused just on us."
"Oh?" Amukelo said. "But it was expensive, right?"
Bral nodded. "Yeah. But we've earned it. And we can afford it with the quests we're doing now. I was thinking... maybe I'd partner with Idin. But if they allow groups of three, maybe all three of us could train together."
"That'd be great," Amukelo said. "We can cover each other's weaknesses better that way."
"Exactly." Bral glanced around the room, then said, "We're close. Just a little more. Silver Rank Seven. Then we can finally leave Llyn and travel more confidently."