“So,
the only way out of this mess is to make you stronger?” Kvran
scowled.
“Precisely.
If I’m faster and stronger than my counterpart, we can win.”
Stark explained.
I
have no other choice, it seems. The undead can’t
copy growth, and I’m nowhere near the Enlightenment Stage to
achieve explosive progress.
Kvran scratched his beard, frustrated.
“Fuck!
Never thought I’d have to train my own target.” He spat on the
ground and turned away. “First things first—how do we even find
food in this place?”
“Let’s
circle the arena,” Stark suggested. “We might find something.”
The
room was massive—almost like a vast grassy plain stretching so far
they couldn’t
see the end from where they stood. They cautiously followed the
arena’s perimeter, careful not to step inside and trigger another
attempt.
After
a few minutes of walking, they stumbled upon something peculiar—a
large stone door with two doorknobs, one on each side. It was the
only door in the entire room.
“Two
doorknobs?” Kvran eyed it suspiciously. “How the hell does this
even open?”
He
grabbed one knob and tried twisting it. Nothing.
“Maybe
we have to turn them at the same time?”
They
exchanged a glance and twisted the knobs simultaneously.
Click.
The
door split down the middle, sliding apart to reveal a small stone
chamber.
“Damn!
I was right.” Stark grinned. “This is a supply and rest room.”
Inside,
shelves were stacked with food, and a water well stood in the center,
its surface glistening under the dim light. A restroom and other
amenities made it feel almost like an inn inside a dungeon.
Kvran’s
frown deepened. “This dungeon is weird. I’ve never seen a supply
room inside one before.”
Stark
ignored Kvran and examined the food. It smelled fresh—no hint of
staleness. The meat looked like it came from some beast.
“Hey!
What if it’s poisonous?” Kvran warned. “The last thing I need
is you falling sick and becoming a burden.”
“How
would we even check for poison?” Stark asked.
Kvran
fell silent.
“Exactly.
There’s no way to check, and we can’t survive without eating.
It’s a death-death situation either way.”
Why
is this brat so smart? Isn’t
he a slave?
Kvran cursed in his mind.
“Fine.”
Stark
tossed him a piece of jerky. Kvran caught it midair, watching as
Stark took a bite. Only after Stark swallowed the first piece did
Kvran follow.
’t
seem poisonous…
After
eating some more, Kvran headed to the water well.
“I’ll
teach you some techniques in a few hours.” He sighed before
chugging a handful of water.
Something
odd about the chamber caught Stark’s
attention. Their chains stretched unnaturally, passing through
walls—allowing them to move freely inside the room.
Free
movement inside this room…
odd. There has to be a hint here.
Stark
glanced around but quickly stopped himself. ’ll
raise suspicion if I investigate now.
Instead,
he subtly observed Kvran. Despite his arrogance, the knight’s
observation skills were sloppy. He missed key details during their
time together. A
front-line fighter. Not someone who relies on strategy.
’ll
be useful.
Stark
waited for Kvran to rest before searching the supply room for clues.
A
few minutes later, Kvran retired to a chamber, taking it easy. With
no time limit on the quest and plenty of food, he had no reason to
rush. After all, Stark couldn’t
harm him.
But
for Stark, it was different. His
life was on the line.
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
He
couldn’t
trust Kvran—not even with the temporary cooperation between them.
So he moved quietly, careful not to alert him, and scoured the supply
room for any hidden clues.
“Damn
it… Is there really nothing?” he muttered under his breath.
Leaning
against the wall, he crouched to check beneath a shelf. His palm
pressed against something— a loose stone.
Before
he could react, the stone sank inward like a hidden button.
Stark’s
breath hitched. A
trap?!
He
clenched his eyes shut, bracing himself.
…Nothing
happened.
Slowly,
he opened one eye. Floating in the air, silent was a line of writing.
“This…”
He gasped.
“You
runt…”
A
voice cut through the air.
Stark
jerked his hand back. The writing vanished instantly, leaving no
trace behind.
His
heart pounded, but he forced himself to stay calm. Grabbing a piece
of jerky, he walked toward Kvran, who was watching him with an
unimpressed scowl.
“As
expected. You’re just stuffing your face,” Kvran scoffed.
Stark
frowned and tossed the jerky away.
“Let’s
go train.”
Kvran
sighed, standing up. “Finally.”
He strode toward the arena, with Stark following close behind.
As
they walked, Kvran glanced at him. “You’ve
got good foundations.”
Stark
nodded, saying nothing.
The
knight studied his frame, noting the toned muscles beneath his ragged
clothes. “Who
taught you swordsmanship?”
“Why
does it matter?” Stark countered.
Kvran
shrugged. “Just
curious.”
A
brief silence stretched between them before Kvran changed the
subject.
“So,
tell me—what’s the difference between a basic swordsman and an
intermediate one?”
“Better
physique and experience?” Stark guessed.
Kvran
smirked. “Experience
matters, yeah. But there’s a fine line between them. Physically,
they’re about the same. The real difference…” He tapped his
head. “Is up here.”
Stark’s
brows furrowed. “You’re saying I can grow stronger without
increasing my physical power?”
“Exactly.”
Kvran’s smirk widened. “Now, let’s get started.”
He
stopped in the center of the training ground.
“Close
your eyes,” Kvran instructed, drawing his sword.
“Unsheathe
your blade.”Stark followed without hesitation
Kvran
lifted a massive stone from the platform and, with a single fluid
motion, sliced it into hundreds of fragments using his spear.
“I’ll
throw these at you. Your job is to make contact with them using your
sword.”
Stark
hesitated. “Uh…”
“No
complaints. Let’s start.”
Without
further warning, Kvran nonchalantly flung a handful of stones in
Stark’s
direction.
Stark
swung his sword wildly, missing every single one. His movements were
clumsy, unfocused—he wasn’t
reacting fast enough.
The
stones, however, never hit him. The shackles between them prevented
Kvran from inflicting harm, ensuring the exercise remained a test of
skill rather than survival.
“Try
harder,” Kvran instructed. “Don’t focus on the stones—focus
on the changes around you.”
Minutes
passed. Stark kept swinging.
He
still couldn’t
hit a single one.
"Again,"
Kvran ordered.
Time
passed, and Stark began to adapt. He could sense the stones before
they even reached him—the faint rustle of Kvran’s
footwork, the sharp whistle of stone slicing through the air, even
the subtle shift in the surrounding air pressure.
CLANG!
A
precise strike shattered a stone mid-air. His first successful hit.
From
that moment, it only got easier.
Kvran
increased the difficulty as Stark adapted, but the boy’s
progress was staggering. Within hours, he was effortlessly cutting
down every stone thrown his way.
The
knight couldn’t
believe his eyes. He had never seen anyone develop so quickly.
He
managed to grasp it this fast
Kvran
clenched his jaw. If Stark kept growing at this rate, he’d
become a threat.
Suppressing
his unease, he exhaled and said, “Great.
You passed the training.”
Stark
opened his eyes, looking almost disappointed. “That’s
it?”
“What
did you expect? That I’d teach you sword art forms?”
“No,
but… does this really make me an intermediate swordsman?” Stark
scowled.
“Technically,
yes. A lower-level one,” Kvran admitted. “The difference between
the you who entered this room and the you now? Massive.”
Still
catching his breath, Stark looked up. “Then
let’s attempt the trial again.”
Kvran
hesitated for a second. ’s
too confident.
“…Fine.
Let’s do it.”
They
both stepped into the arena once again.
The
armored undead spawned before them, their rotting faces still
unsettling. Stark winced for a moment before steeling himself.
The undead, coordinated and precise,
charged at them at the same time.
Stark, instead of paying full
attention to the enemy, also kept his eye on Kvran. He needed to
study the man to dodge and attack precisely without interfering with
each other.
Stark blocked the sword undead’s
blade mid-swing and kicked its rotted gut, protected by armor. It was
pushed back, yanking the shackled arm of the spear undead back.
’m
definitely stronger than that undead.
As they kept fighting, problems began
to pile up. Despite their best efforts, their bond and teamwork
weren’t up to par. The twin
undead had almost flawless teamwork, making up for each other.
In the end, they were pushed back to
the edge of the arena by the undead.
“Fuck!!” Stark cursed at the
undead. “You dirty mutts.”
Stark jabbed at the ribs of the
undead. A step forward and a stab.
The undead switched as the
sword-wielding undead caught Kvran’s
spear by the edge and deflected it to the side using his momentum.
The spear undead rushed to end the
duel, bringing its spear down at him in a deadly arc. Gritting his
teeth, Stark whipped his sword up to block, just barely managing as
the strike rattled his bones and nearly made his knees cave in.
“This filth.” Kvran cursed and
jabbed at the spear undead in an attempt to save him.
The undead stepped out in an attempt
to create distance.
A dagger shot at Kvran’s
head before he could even charge.
“These motherfuckers," he
cursed loudly as he deflected the dagger.
Kvran charged at the spear undead,
following his lead. Stark was to take care of his undead counterpart.
He closed in quickly.
He twitched, jerking his sword for a
false stab.
Its sword came up to block. The moment
was finally here.
Stark swung low. It was over for the
undead. But the blade never reached.
Kvran, in an attempt to dodge a
strike, yanked him by the chain. The force pulled him back and threw
him off balance.
Unfortunately, before he could pull
him up, he saw a stab coming right at his face.
It was over.
Stark was back outside the arena,
staring at the ceiling with a dejected look.
[Three out of five attempts have been
used.]
“Fuck!! I was so close.”
