Arthur and Luke made their way to their next class, combat training. As they entered the large square room, Arthur immediately noticed the raised platform in the center—a sparring arena. Standing atop it was a female instructor who leaned casually on a wooden sword.
Arthur nearly tripped over his own feet as he took in her appearance. She was strikingly beautiful, with long brown hair tied up in a perfect ponytail that complemented her olive skin. She wore tight white combat garments that revealed her athletic physique, and a confident smirk played across her lips as she watched the students file in.
But there was something else about her—something Arthur couldn't quite place. He felt it, albeit barely... a presence, an aura. This woman was no ordinary instructor; she was an experienced Chosen, and a powerful one at that.
"Stop staring," Luke whispered, nudging Arthur with his elbow. "That's Ms. Anne. I've heard she's a pathfinder."
Arthur swallowed hard. A Pathfinder? That's no easy feat. No wonder her presence felt so intense.
Once all the students had entered and found places around the perimeter of the room, the instructor straightened her posture.
"Welcome to Combat Training 101. I'm Ms. Anne," she announced, her voice clear and commanding. "Today's session is simple—one-on-one sparring matches. This will help me gauge your current skill levels and plan my teaching accordingly."
The class suddenly seemed much more engaged than they had been during Realm Theory. Students straightened their backs, eyes gleaming with excitement at the prospect of testing their skills with a weapon.
Ms. Anne paced the platform as she continued. "While many Chosen rely primarily on their magic after entering the realms, your physical combat abilities remain crucial."
Arthur listened intently, trying to absorb every detail. He knew the basics from what he's learned so far—after every rank advancement, a Chosen's physical attributes and magical capabilities increased significantly. Beyond that, some lucky ones were granted soul weapons—armaments developed by their realm core itself, possessing immense power usually tied to the wielder's magic type.
"Not every Chosen receives a soul weapon upon entering a new realm," Ms. Anne explained, echoing Arthur's thoughts. "But even those who don't often use mundane weapons enhanced by Chosen with suitable enchantment skills. This is why weapon training is essential to becoming powerful in the realms."
Arthur's heart sank. He had never been in a fight. He'd never played sports, never trained with weapons. His world had been books, games and solitude until recently—none of which would help him now.
"First pair, Arthur Kendrick and Jin Tao," Ms. Anne called out, reading from her tablet.
Arthur felt his blood run cold. Of course he would be called first. He reluctantly made his way to the platform, accepting a wooden sword from Ms. Anne. The weapon felt awkward and unbalanced in his grip. Across from him stood Jin, a stocky boy with determined eyes and a confident stance that suggested years of training.
"Begin!" Ms. Anne commanded.
Arthur barely had time to raise his sword before Jin was upon him. The clash lasted mere seconds—a flurry of movement, a sharp pain in his side, and then Arthur found himself lying on his back, staring at the ceiling as bruises began to form across his body. Laughter erupted from several classmates.
"That's enough," Ms. Anne said, silencing the class with a sharp look. "Arhur, you need to work on... everything. Tao, good aggression but your stance leaves you vulnerable to counterattack."
Arthur limped back to his place beside Luke, his cheeks burning with embarrassment.
"Don't worry about it," Luke whispered. "Most of us will end up on our backs today."
Several more matches followed. Aziel, when called, stepped onto the platform with a swagger that made Arthur's jaw clench. His opponent, a tall boy named Ryan, didn't stand a chance. Aziel fought with sheer force and unrelenting aggression, his wooden sword a blur as he overwhelmed Ryan with a series of brutal strikes that left him gasping for breath.
"Borasten, powerful technique but unnecessarily cruel," Ms. Anne noted with a slight frown. "This is training, not a death match."
Aziel merely shrugged, a self-satisfied smile on his face as he rejoined his admirers.
Luke was called next and, as predicted, suffered a defeat similar to Arthur's, though he at least managed to block two strikes before being knocked down. Myah, too, found herself quickly outmatched, though she took her defeat with good humor, laughing as she dusted herself off.
Then came the moment the entire class had been anticipating.
"Cara Lenning and Vince Mercer," Ms. Anne announced.
A hush fell over the room as Cara stepped onto the platform, moving with effortless grace. She took her position across from Vince, a muscular boy who towered over her by at least four inches. Cara held her wooden sword with both hands, assuming a perfect stance that immediately revealed this was not her first time wielding a blade.
Unlike the other matches, neither combatant moved immediately. Cara remained perfectly still, her expression serene as she held her defensive position. Vince circled her cautiously, sensing the danger despite her smaller stature.
Growing impatient with the standoff, Vince finally charged, bringing his blade down in a powerful overhead strike aimed at Cara's head.
What happened next was so fast that Arthur missed it entirely. One moment Vince was charging forward with his sword raised high, and the next he was lying completely off the platform, groaning in pain. Cara stood in the exact same position, barely looking as though she had moved at all.
The room fell silent, then erupted in gasps and whispers.
"Impressive, Lenning," Ms. Anne said, a rare note of approval in her voice. "Perfect execution of a Counter strike technique. Have you trained before?"
"Some," Cara replied simply, stepping down from the platform without elaboration.
As she passed by Arthur on her way back to her seat, he caught a glimpse of her eyes—focused, determined, but with a hint of something else. Sadness? Resignation? He couldn't quite tell, but it made him wonder what burden someone like Cara carried behind her perfect exterior.
Several more matches followed, but none captured the class's attention like Cara's display. When the bell finally rang, signaling the end of combat training, Arthur felt a mix of relief and dread. Relief that his humiliation was over, at least for today, and dread at the realization of how far behind he truly was.
"Don't look so devastated," Luke said as they gathered their things. "No one expected us to be experts on day one."
"Except for Cara and Aziel," Arthur pointed out. "They're clearly leagues ahead."
Luke shrugged. "They've probably been training their whole lives. We're just getting started."
As they headed to the cafeteria for lunch before their final class of the day, Survival 101, Arthur couldn't help but glance back at Cara, who walked alone despite Myah's attempts to engage her in conversation. There was something about her that fascinated him—not just her beauty or her skill, but the mystery that surrounded her.
Shrugging it off Arhur pushed the thought to the back of his mind and continued to lunch.