The Guild training yard opened at dawn.

  Elias arrived early, nerves tight in his chest. Around him, the yard was already active—Warriors running drills, shields clashing, practice swords whistling through air. The sound of dedicated training. The sound of people getting stronger.

  He'd come here to join them. To transform from a Scout who could fight into something more—a true dual-class adventurer.

  The training yard was impressive. Fifty meters square, packed dirt ground marked with combat rings. Weapon racks lined the walls—practice weapons of every type. Training dummies stood in rows, some basic straw-filled sacks, others enchanted constructs that fought back. In the center, a raised platform where instructors demonstrated techniques.

  And standing on that platform, arms crossed, watching the morning drills with the critical eye of a veteran:

  Master Roland.

  [Roland Ironheart - Level 38 Warrior]

  Late fifties, maybe early sixties. Gray hair cut military-short. Face lined with scars—one particularly nasty one across his left cheek, another bisecting his right eyebrow. Arms like iron wrapped in leather, crossed over a chest that looked like it could take a warhammer blow and ask for another. He wore simple training clothes—no armor needed when you were that confident.

  His presence was weight. Authority earned through decades of combat.

  Elias approached the platform, waiting for a break in the drills.

  Roland's eyes found him immediately. Assessed him in two seconds—the way a veteran sizes up a recruit. Saw his level, his class, his equipment, his posture. Everything.

  "You're the Scout," Roland said. Not a question. Voice like gravel—rough but clear. "Keya Thornheart mentioned you might come. Said you want to add Warrior to your class set."

  Elias straightened. "Yes, sir. Elias Thorne. Level 5 Scout. I need proper combat training."

  "Need or want?"

  "Need, sir. I can fight, but my technique is self-taught. Inefficient. I watched the tournament. Saw what real Warriors can do. I want—I need—to be better."

  Roland studied him for another moment. Then nodded. "Honest answer. Good. Most scouts think they can fight because they've killed a few goblins. You know you're lacking. That's the first step."

  He gestured to the platform. "Come up here. Show me what you know."

  ———

  Elias climbed onto the platform.

  Twenty other trainees stopped their drills to watch. He felt their eyes. Most were younger than him—sixteen, seventeen. A few were his age or older. All wore the focused expression of people serious about getting stronger.

  Roland handed him a practice sword. Wooden, weighted to match steel. "Attack me. Use everything you know. Don't hold back."

  Elias took stance—the one he'd developed through trial and error over the past three months. Weight balanced, sword ready, feet positioned for quick movement.

  Roland didn't take any stance. Just stood there, relaxed, waiting.

  Elias moved.

  [Enhanced Mobility] carried him forward—quick step, sword coming in a diagonal slash aimed at Roland's shoulder. Fast. Clean.

  Roland's hand moved. Didn't even draw a weapon. Just—moved. Caught Elias's sword arm mid-swing, redirected it with minimal force. Suddenly Elias was off-balance, stumbling past Roland.

  "Again," Roland said.

  Elias recovered, attacked again. This time a thrust, using the reach advantage. Roland sidestepped, tapped Elias's blade with two fingers. The sword went wide.

  "Again."

  Five more attempts. Five different attacks. Each one countered effortlessly. Roland wasn't even breaking a sweat.

  Finally, Roland held up a hand. "Enough."

  Elias was breathing hard, frustrated. He hadn't landed a single hit. Hadn't even come close.

  Roland addressed the watching trainees as much as Elias. "What did you see?"

  One student—a young woman, maybe eighteen—raised her hand. "His stance was wrong, Master. Weight distribution off."

  "Correct. What else?"

  Another student: "Telegraphed every attack. Shoulder dropped before the slash. Hip shifted before the thrust."

  "Good. More?"

  "Committed too early," a third student added. "Once he started an attack, couldn't adapt."

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  Roland nodded. "All correct. This is self-taught fighting. He has natural talent—his [Enhanced Mobility] is well-used, his speed is good, his aggression is appropriate. But." He turned to Elias. "You fight like you're alone in the woods hunting monsters. That works against beasts. Against trained Warriors? You'll die."

  It stung. But it was true.

  "The good news," Roland continued, "is that you're teachable. You're Level 5, which means you're not stuck in bad habits yet. Your foundation is weak, but it can be rebuilt. Question: Are you willing to tear down everything you know and start over?"

  Elias didn't hesitate. "Yes, sir."

  "Even if it means feeling weaker before you feel stronger?"

  "Yes."

  "Good." Roland gestured to the other students to return to their drills. To Elias: "Follow me. Let's discuss terms."

  ———

  They moved to a small office attached to the training yard.

  Simple space—desk, chairs, weapon racks, training manuals. Roland sat, gestured for Elias to do the same.

  "Training contract," Roland said, pulling out a standard Guild form. "Four weeks. Three hours daily. Covers combat fundamentals, weapon techniques, defensive tactics, and Warrior-class skill foundation. Cost: Fifty silver. Paid upfront. No refunds if you quit early. Questions?"

  "Will this let me unlock the [Warrior] class?" Elias asked.

  "If you complete the training and pass the final test, yes. The System recognizes dedicated training. Four weeks of intensive Warrior instruction, combined with your existing combat experience, should be enough for dual-class qualification. But," Roland leaned forward, "you have to actually complete it. And it won't be easy."

  "I'll complete it," Elias said.

  "We'll see." Roland slid the contract across. "Read it. Sign if you agree."

  Elias read through the terms. Standard Guild contract—clear expectations, defined deliverables, liability waivers for training injuries. Everything above-board.

  He signed.

  Roland countersigned, then held out his hand. "Fifty silver."

  Elias pulled out his coin purse. Counted out the money. Fifty silver pieces—two gold and ninety-three silver reduced to two gold and forty-three. Significant expense. But worth it.

  Roland pocketed the payment, filed the contract. "Good. We start now. Go get a practice sword and meet me at combat ring three."

  "Now? I thought training started tomorrow—"

  "I said four weeks. Not 'four weeks starting tomorrow.' You paid for twenty-eight days. Day one begins now." Roland stood. "Move."

  Elias moved.

  ———

  Combat ring three was empty except for Roland and a weapons rack.

  Elias retrieved a practice sword, returned to the ring. Roland was waiting, arms crossed.

  "First lesson," Roland said. "Forget everything you taught yourself."

  "But—"

  "Everything. Your stance. Your grip. Your footwork. All of it is wrong or inefficient. We rebuild from foundation up. Understand?"

  Elias wanted to argue. He'd been fighting successfully for three months. But Roland was Level 38. Master Warrior. If anyone knew what they were talking about, it was him.

  "Understood," Elias said.

  "Good. Drop the sword."

  Elias dropped it.

  "Stand naturally. Don't think about combat. Just stand."

  Elias stood.

  Roland circled him, examining posture from every angle. "Weight distribution is sixty-forty. Left leg slightly forward. Shoulders tense. Jaw clenched. Hands in fists."

  He tapped Elias's left shoulder. "Relax this." Tapped his right knee. "Bend this slightly." Adjusted his feet position. "Fifty-fifty weight. Even distribution."

  After a minute of adjustments: "This is neutral stance. No commitment. Ready for anything. Practice this until it feels natural."

  "Just... standing?" Elias asked.

  "Just standing. Everything starts from neutral stance. If your foundation is wrong, everything built on it is wrong. You'll stand like this for an hour. Then we move to combat stance."

  An hour. Just standing.

  This was going to be tedious.

  It was tedious.

  Hour one: Standing in neutral stance while Roland corrected minor shifts in weight, posture, tension.

  Hour two: Combat stance. Weight forward, sword held properly, guard position. Repetition until muscle memory started forming.

  Hour three: Basic footwork. Step forward, step back, lateral movement. Simple. Boring. Essential.

  By the end of the first session, Elias was exhausted. Not from exertion—from concentration. Every minute focused on minute details. Every movement corrected, refined, perfected.

  "Tomorrow, six o'clock," Roland said as Elias left. "Don't be late."

  ———

  That evening at the Iron Hammer, Elias collapsed onto his bed.

  Every muscle ached. Not from injury—from holding positions he wasn't used to. His legs trembled. His back hurt. His shoulders were tight.

  Keya and Tom were at the table, planning tomorrow's quest.

  "How was training?" Keya asked.

  "Brutal," Elias said. "Three hours of standing and footwork. Didn't even swing a sword."

  Tom grinned. "Sounds exciting."

  "It's necessary," Keya said. "Foundation work. Like when I learned magic—first month was just meditation and mana control. Boring but essential."

  "How long until you can actually fight?" Tom asked.

  "Four weeks," Elias said. "Maybe two weeks before combat drills start. Roland said we're rebuilding from scratch."

  "Worth it though," Keya said. "Proper technique versus self-taught? The difference is massive. You saw it at the tournament."

  Elias thought about Dirk Stonefist. Level 7, but fought like he had decades of experience. Perfect defense, efficient counters, no wasted movement. That was trained skill.

  "Yeah," he said. "Worth it."

  "We'll keep questing," Tom said. "You focus on training. When you're done, we'll all be stronger."

  "You're not worried about falling behind?" Elias asked. They'd be gaining XP while he was stuck in training.

  "Short term, maybe," Keya admitted. "But long term? You'll be dual-class Warrior. That's worth more than a level or two."

  Tom stretched. "Plus, we get to fight while you stand in place for hours. Sounds like we got the better deal."

  Elias threw a pillow at him.

  ———

  Days 62-68: Week One

  Day 62-63: Stance and footwork. Repetition until automatic. Roland corrected every deviation. "Again. Again. Again." Three hours daily felt like ten.

  Day 64: Introduction to cuts. Basic vertical slash. Roland demonstrated—smooth, efficient, powerful. "The sword cuts with its weight and edge. You guide it. Don't force it." Elias practiced vertical cuts. Five hundred repetitions. His arms screamed.

  Day 65: Horizontal slashes. Diagonal cuts. Same process. Demonstrate, practice, correct, repeat. [Basic Swordsmanship] Lv 4 → Lv 5. Skill growth from proper instruction.

  Day 66: Defense. How to parry. "Don't block—redirect. Use their force against them. Minimum effort, maximum effect." Partnered with another student—practiced parrying their attacks. Failed repeatedly. Slowly improved.

  Day 67: Combination drills. Step forward, vertical slash. Step back, parry. Lateral step, horizontal cut. Linking movements into sequences. Muscle memory forming.

  Day 68: End of week one. Roland assessed progress. "Adequate. Your foundation is building. Week two: We increase intensity."

  Elias returned to the Iron Hammer exhausted but satisfied. [Basic Swordsmanship] Lv 4 → Lv 6. Measurable progress. His movements were cleaner, more efficient. The foundation was taking shape.

  Keya and Tom were Level 6 now—they'd done three quests during the week while he trained. But they were happy for him. No jealousy, just support.

  "Three more weeks," Elias said, checking his reflection in the inn's mirror. He looked different already. Posture straighter. Movements more deliberate. Traces of a Warrior emerging.

  Three more weeks of hell. Then he'd be dual-class.

  Worth it.