The room drifted apart gradually, conversations thinning and peeling away until the noise settled into a distant hum. People moved off in different directions, benches scraping softly, boots crossing stone, voices fading into other concerns. In the end, only Greta, Winnie, Meka, and I remained standing together in the open space we had claimed without meaning to.

  Greta turned her attention fully on me.

  She looked at me. Really looked at me, the way she always did when she was measuring more than posture or balance. Her eyes tracked my stance, the way I held my shoulders, the steadiness of my breathing. She waited long enough that I knew she had already formed an opinion before she spoke.

  “How are you doing, Azolo?” she asked.

  I looked up at her and answered honestly, after giving myself a moment to be sure. “Much better. My body doesn’t feel like it’s going to collapse into a puddle of jelly from a stiff breeze anymore. Everything still feels heavy, but it’s a stable kind of heavy.”

  Her mouth curved upward, gold-capped tusks catching the light as she smiled. “You look better than before. You’re standing straighter. Soon, if you keep eating the way you’re supposed to, you’ll be back to your previous size. After that, you’ll feel even better than that.”

  The reassurance settled in my chest, solid and practical.

  “Will this happen at every tier?” I asked.

  Greta nodded once. “Yes. There are clear stages you’ll go through every time. First, your core upgrades and you get an initial boost in strength. It’s deceptive. It makes people think the worst is over.”

  She lifted one hand slightly, palm facing down, as if pressing something into place. “Then your body collapses inward. It cannibalizes itself to rebuild. Old tissue breaks down so the new structure can form. Your cells upgrade, but during that process you are weaker than you were before the advancement.

  “Trying to upgrade in the middle of a fight might save your life in that moment,” she continued, voice firm. “You get a boost, and sometimes that boost is the difference between living and dying. But what about the next fight, when you’re about to collapse in the middle of a dungeon?”

  She looked between the three of us, making sure none of us missed the point. “Kids, don’t do it unless you are about to die and it will save you. If you are in the middle of a fight and you have no other choice, upgrade and then do not keep fighting. Run. Get out of the dungeon as fast as you can.”

  Her hand shifted, indicating the world beyond the walls. “If you’re in the Sea of Trees, or a dungeon like this one, you retreat to a zone at least two tiers lower than your new tier. At that point, you won’t instantly die to monsters there, even in your weakened state. In most cases, nothing of that tier will be able to hurt you at all anymore.”

  Her expression hardened slightly. “Unless you get very unlucky and run into a mini boss. And yes, that does happen. I say this because I knew adventurers who have died to that exact situation.”

  “After that comes the hunger,” she continued. “You will need more food than would be healthy at any other point in your life. It won’t feel optional. It will feel urgent.”

  She paused only long enough to make sure we were listening.

  “At higher tiers this changes,” Greta went on. “Your body will eventually require less food overall as it becomes more efficient. But that is a long way off for you. Right now, the initial monsterification of your cells is what causes the hunger.”

  Winnie stared at her, eyes wide and shining. Meka stared at her, hands clenched around Bunny. I stared at her too, filing the information away carefully.

  “Cores make our cells into monsters?” I asked.

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  “Technically,” Greta said, her tone serious and exact. “You are still you. That does not change. Your core is the monstrous version of what you are becoming. It is an expression of you pushed to an extreme.”

  I nodded slowly. It was an interesting fact, unsettling but precise, the kind of truth that felt uncomfortable only because it made too much sense.

  Winnie looked thrilled by the idea, excitement flickering openly across her face.

  Meka looked horrified on our behalf. Her ears drooped, and her voice shook when she spoke. “Are you even you if your body becomes a monster?”

  I turned toward her without hesitation. “I’m sure we are. I can’t explain how I know, but take it on faith, my apprentice. Some things don’t change just because the body does.”

  She swallowed hard, hugging Bunny closer to her chest. After a moment, she said quietly, “I think I’m glad I’m going to be a wizard.”

  Winnie snorted, then bent to pick up her log. She swung the club in a clean, confident arc, testing its weight. “I’m really excited about it now. Honestly, being a monster who slays monsters sounds awesome.”

  Greta laughed softly and smiled down at the dwarven girl. “You’re not wrong,” she said. “It is pretty awesome.”

  Meka hesitated before speaking, shifting her weight from one hoof to the other. She hugged Bunny a little closer to her chest, fingers tightening around the familiar’s leafy body as if grounding herself. Then she looked up at Greta, ears angled forward with cautious hope.

  “Do you have any plans for me tomorrow?” Meka asked.

  “Yes, didn’t we already speak on this?” Greta said, fixing Meka with a steady, uncompromising look. “You’re going to be following Azolo pretty much until your time here is up. Because you have to be somewhere. And that means if he’s attending the martial class, you’re attending the martial class.”

  Meka blinked, processing that. “Even though I’m a wizard?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Greta said simply. “Because you have to be somewhere. And even if you’re a wizard, you still need to learn how to be an adventurer. You need to know how to move through danger, how to recognize it, and how to survive it. And because you’re his apprentice.”

  She let that last part settle, then continued, her tone more explanatory than harsh. “Magic doesn’t protect you from bad footing, poor decisions, or being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Martial training teaches awareness as much as strength. You’ll benefit from that, whether you throw punches or spells.”

  Meka nodded, relief spreading across her face as the logic settled in. The idea seemed to ease something in her, shoulders relaxing as if she had been given permission rather than a sentence.

  Greta’s gaze shifted to me then, sharp and assessing. “I don’t know if he’ll have you follow his regimen,” she said thoughtfully. “He may set you up with something else. I’ve never heard of a wizard following a physical regimen before, but it might be interesting to see what comes of it.”

  I cleared my throat, suddenly very aware that both Greta and Meka were looking at me. “I do have plans for you,” I said, turning fully toward Meka. “Meditation, first. You need to grow your mana channels and learn how to feel them properly. That part isn’t optional, and it’s not quick.”

  Meka’s grip on Bunny loosened slightly, relief flickering across her face at the familiar territory of magic.

  “That alone will take time,” I continued. “It’s not just about having more mana. It’s about control, flow, and knowing when to stop before you hurt yourself.”

  I paused, frowning as I worked through the problem out loud. “As for my own regimen, I don’t actually know how long it’s going to take yet. This will be my first time following a physical regimen in this body. In theory, we should be able to time things so we’re on similar schedules.”

  I grimaced faintly. “That’s assuming I can math it out correctly, which is… unlikely. It’s much easier when you already know what you’re doing. I’ve done meditation before. I understand that part.”

  I glanced down at my hands, then back up again. “What I’m about to attempt now, though, I’ve never done. I don’t fully understand the consequences of doing it, and pretending otherwise would be irresponsible.”

  There was a brief silence after that, the weight of uncertainty hanging in the air. Meka watched me closely, fear and trust warring quietly on her face, while Greta studied me with an expression that was less judgment than calculation.

  I shifted slightly, then looked at Greta. “Is it possible that I could speak with you in private?” I asked. “I’m sorry, um… friends.”

  The word felt strange and right at the same time. It had taken me longer than it should have to settle on what to call them, these companions of my age but not of my mind. Friends seemed appropriate. I liked them both.

  One was technically my apprentice, even though I was no longer a wizard in the way the world understood the term. The other was a dwarven child, wonderful in that blunt, unpolished way that made pretense impossible. Dwarves were like that. Bold, brash, loud, boisterous, and honest to a fault. If they didn’t like you, you knew it. If they didn’t like you at first, and you changed that, they would be your friends for life.

  Not all of them, of course. There were always exceptions. There were always assholes. But Winnie was fantastic, and I found myself hoping that whatever came next did not take that from her, or from us.

  “That's fine,” Greta said after a moment, her gaze softening just enough to be noticeable. “Meka, Winnie, you should both go grab dinner.”