Behind the severe-looking building of the Adventurers’ Guild was a large, walled-in training yard. It had everything one might expect from a medieval fantasy setting: target dummies lined up at the end of a long shooting range — some still bristling with arrows — a few circular sparring rings marked out with sandbags, and even a corner filled with metal weights and other tools for strength training.

  A few people were around, but given the early hour, Nikolai assumed most hadn’t even woken yet. There he was, training sword in hand, standing opposite Pavel. The man held his own wooden sword lazily and was currently finishing off a bottle of something that was most likely not water.

  “So…” Pavel began, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “Let’s see what you’ve got, boy. Try to defend yourself.”

  In what seemed like a single step, he was suddenly right in front of Nikolai, the wooden weapon already swinging. It struck his shoulder with a dull thunk, and the pain came a moment later. Nikolai yelped loudly.

  Pavel just stared at him, nonplussed. He glanced down at his sword, then back at Nikolai. “What the actual shit… You didn’t even try to block.”

  Clutching his shoulder, Nikolai frowned. “I barely had time to blink!”

  Pavel rolled his eyes. “Green indeed. Alright, fine — let me slow things down for you.”

  He exaggeratedly moved his sword in slow motion toward Nikolai’s head, even gritting his teeth and letting out a drawn-out battle cry. The blade tapped gently against Nikolai’s forehead. Nikolai glared at him.

  “Really? You’re an asshole, Pavel, you know that, right?”

  Pavel shrugged. “What do you want from me, boy? Too quick, too slow… I don’t have patience for a brat so weak he can barely hold a wooden sword straight.”

  Nikolai took a deep, calming breath. “Look, I know you don’t want to train me. I know I’m shit. So maybe start from the beginning! You know — stances, how to even hold this bloody thing?”

  Pavel sighed and, as if by magic, produced another bottle from somewhere. He uncorked it, took a large sip, and exhaled contentedly. “Fine… But you’d better keep up, boy. I don’t show things more than once.”

  Nikolai rolled his eyes. “What happened to repetition and building muscle memory?”

  Pavel grinned nastily, taking another drink. “Either you learn or you die — that’s how adventuring works. Now stop complaining and watch very closely.”

  He recorked the bottle, set it down, and began demonstrating a few stances. Nikolai watched carefully, doing his best to copy him. Pavel corrected a few things here and there, then nodded. “See? Now you’ve got balance.”

  He gave Nikolai a small shove, and the younger man noticed he didn’t stumble this time — it really did feel more stable.

  “Now, using a sword is an art, boy,” Pavel said, pacing slowly. “It takes time and practice—”

  Nikolai opened his mouth to point out the contradiction, but Pavel held up a hand. “Practice on your own damn time, boy. I’m a busy man.”

  When he was sure Nikolai would stay quiet, Pavel continued. “Right. As I was saying, it’s an art. There are as many styles as there are blades of grass, but they all share the same fundamentals. There’s a correct way to swing a sword — it’s not just your arms that move. It’s your body, and your fucking soul you put into it.”

  “Now watch. I’ll demonstrate the basic strikes, and then it’s your turn.”

  He did just that, moving through a series of basic cuts and thrusts. Nikolai tried to emulate him but wasn’t very good at it. True to his word, Pavel didn’t repeat himself — but he did correct Nikolai constantly, adjusting his stance, pointing out mistakes, forcing him to learn by doing.

  For all his attitude, Pavel’s instruction was surprisingly effective. By the end of their two-hour session, Nikolai was far from a sword master, but he had learned a lot — and Pavel even gave him a few exercises to practice in his spare time.

  Nikolai grumbled to himself as he walked back to the hospitarium. Despite using a healing spell on himself, there was a deep soreness he couldn’t shake. It wasn’t exactly physical — it went deeper than that.

  It took an hour to get back, and by the time he arrived, the waiting room was already full of patients. Suppressing a groan, he went straight to the baths, cleaned himself up, donned a fresh white robe, and met with one of the nurses.

  Not a minute later, the first patient arrived, and a long day of healing began.

  Despite wanting nothing more than to collapse into bed afterward, he kept to Simi’s orders — practicing his mana control for a full hour before finally falling asleep from sheer exhaustion.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  The next day was nearly identical. So was the next. And the next.

  He fell into a routine. His days blurred together until he was almost on autopilot, barely noticing the streets or people around him as he made his way to and from weapons training each morning.

  On the fifth morning, he was so tired he didn’t realize he’d taken a wrong turn. When he blinked, he found himself standing in a narrow alley between tall buildings.

  It was empty and quiet. He frowned, looking from one end to the other. “How the hell did I end up here?” he muttered, debating which way to go.

  Pavel wouldn’t be happy if he was late — and considering the beatings he got on good days, Nikolai could only imagine how bad it would be if he showed up late.

  Cursing his own stupidity, he picked a direction at random. His boots clicked loudly on the cobblestones, the only sound in the still morning air.

  He reached an intersection — and saw only more of the same. Frowning, he noticed something unsettling: the buildings looked familiar. Not similar — identical. A wall to his right bore a strange carved symbol, and he was sure he’d seen it before. Exactly the same.

  He stopped in his tracks. “Something’s wrong…” he whispered.

  “Indeed,” said a man’s voice from behind him. “You finally caught on.”

  Nikolai spun to find three men standing there. The one in the middle was well-dressed — not noble, but refined — while the two flanking him looked like they thought bathing was optional.

  “Uh… who are you?” Nikolai asked, trying not to show the fear creeping up his spine.

  The man in the middle smiled — a perfect white grin framed by a neat black goatee. His short hair and confident posture made him look both charming and dangerous. “Who we are is of little importance, boy. What we want is what you should be focusing on. We’ve been watching you. We’ve been looking for someone just like yourself.”

  Nikolai glanced over his shoulder — two more men blocked the other end of the alley.

  “Alright,” he said warily. “And what is it you want, then?”

  “A healer,” the man said simply. “More precisely, a healer who isn’t tied to any guild or order — someone who can disappear without being missed. You fit that description perfectly. So we’ve come to extend our warmest invitation to join our little band of gentlemen here.” He gestured to the others.

  “So you’re here to kidnap me, then,” Nikolai said, his voice trembling slightly as anxiety spiked.

  “Just so. But it doesn’t have to be unpleasant, boy. Come along willingly, do as you’re told, and you might even find a place among us in time.”

  Nikolai peeked over his shoulder again. Should he fight? There were five of them. If his training with Pavel was anything to go by, he was as helpless as a child right now. He could go with them, play along, and think of something later — but that, too, carried risk.

  The man’s smile didn’t waver. “I’m not a patient man, boy. I need an answer. Now.”

  “You’re not exactly giving me a lot of options!” Nikolai snapped. “I don’t wa—”

  A hard blow struck the back of his head, and everything went black before he hit the ground.

  Nikolai woke to water splashing in his face. He coughed — which only made the splitting headache worse — and whimpered as pain exploded through his skull.

  Someone laughed. “Time to wake up, boy. You’ve got work to do.”

  Blinking through the blur, he croaked, “What? What’s going on? What is this?”

  “Hmm,” said the same voice. “Might’ve hit him a bit hard there, Larry.”

  “It was just a gentle tap. He’s fine,” another replied.

  Someone roughly wiped Nikolai’s face with a coarse cloth, then hauled him out of the chair he’d been tied to. His hands were bound, and he was half-dragged through a dim hallway before being shoved into another room. He stumbled and fell hard on his face, pain flaring across his nose and mouth.

  “Bloody hell, Larry! We need him to be somewhat healthy. Could you stop damaging our tools?” the first man snapped.

  “It was just a little push. He’s fine,” Larry muttered.

  Through watery eyes, Nikolai saw the room clearly for the first time — eight women and two men sat slumped against the wall, most in various states of undress. One was barely clothed at all.

  “They need healing, boy,” the first man said coldly. “The longer they’re down here, the longer they’re not making money.”

  They untied his hands. Nikolai looked at the nearest woman — her eyes were empty, unfocused. She didn’t even seem aware of his presence. Her arm was bent at an unnatural angle, blood caked half her face, and her breathing was shallow and ragged.

  Rage boiled up in Nikolai’s chest — a fury so raw it startled even him. These bastards weren’t just forcing him. They were forcing them. And it didn’t take much imagination to know what kind of work they were made to do.

  He knelt beside her and placed a hand gently on her arm. She flinched but didn’t pull away. Extending his senses, he felt the extent of her injuries — broken arm, cracked ribs, a scalp wound, and a spreading infection.

  “What the fuck did you do to her, you animals?” Nikolai growled without looking up.

  Footsteps shuffled behind him, followed by a brief scuffle. “Easy, Larry,” said the leader. “He’s not wrong, you know.”

  “I was just gonna slap him a bit,” Larry muttered.

  Ignoring them, Nikolai focused on the woman. His mana surged weakly, but he forced as much power as he could through the minor healing rune.

  It was slow, painstakingly slow, but the scalp wound began to close. Then he moved on to the arm, he gently held it, and tried to push as much out of the spell as possible, but it took a while before the bone began knitting back together. It wasn’t perfect, but it was something.. The ribs was the same story, and he used up a lot of mana on her alone.

  Then he felt it — a warmth within him, expanding like light behind his ribs. His rune had changed, he felt it. Had it just evolved!?.

  With renewed energy, he turned his magic back on the woman, cleansing the infection and restoring vitality. She gasped, color returning faintly to her cheeks. When their eyes met, tears welled in hers, and she reached weakly toward him for a hug.

  A man appeared beside Nikolai and yanked her to her feet. “Alright, back to work with you.”

  Nikolai jumped up in protest, but Larry’s red-haired bulk filled his vision — and then a heavy fist connected with his jaw. He crashed to the ground, dazed again.

  Lying there, he groaned and cast a healing spell on himself. It was definetly more effective now, and the pain immediately began to fade. He looked up just in time to see Larry smirking.

  “See? You’re fine,” the brute said.