11 Blades and Bonds

Nathaniel Cromwell's senses flickered to life, his eyelids fluttering open like the wings of a newly awakened butterfly. The nurse's office was bathed in a soft glow, casting gentle light on the healer who stood by his side, her hands still tinged with the iridescent residue of magic. Nurse Joy, with her whimsical pink hair bundled into twin buns and eyes like deep pools of the midnight sky, offered him a tender smile.

"Ah, you're back with us, Nate," she chimed, her voice a soothing melody that eased his reeling head. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been trampled by a herd of centaurs," he groaned, sitting up with effort as the remnants of pain ebbed away beneath her healing charm.

"Professor Jodi certainly doesn't pull her punches, does she?" Nate remarked, probing gently for information as he brushed his shoulder-length black hair from his emerald eyes.

"Ah, Professor Jodi..." Nurse Joy sighed, a hint of fondness lacing her words. "A brilliant mind, unparalleled in the art of illusions. Her methods may seem eccentric, but there's a method to her madness. Did you know she once served as the royal family's most skilled spy? Few can weave deception as seamlessly as she can."

"Only ever completed mentoring one student, though," she added with a knowing glance. "She demands excellence. You'd do well to rise to her challenge."

"Guess I'm in for quite the adventure then," Nate mused, his spirits lifted by the prospect of mastering such an elusive craft.

"Indeed," Nurse Joy agreed with a twinkle in her eye. "Now off you go. You wouldn't want to be late for your next lesson."

"Thanks for patching me up, Nurse Joy," Nate said with genuine gratitude, rising from the cot. His limbs felt steadier, reinforced by the magical ministrations.

"Take care. And remember, learning from eccentrics often yields the most extraordinary results," she called after him with a playful wink.

Stepping out into the crisp air, Nate adjusted his leather tunic and set his sights on the small training arena that would host his next mentor session. A hint of trepidation teased his thoughts as he contemplated his string of unconventional tutors. Was it rotten luck, or was it fate guiding him toward a destiny woven by the hands of oddballs and geniuses?

As he neared the arena, his gaze landed on a figure that seemed to embody the essence of disarray. Professor Garret stood there, a slim middle-aged man whose unkempt dirty blond hair and patchwork beard gave him the appearance of a wayward traveler rather than a learned instructor. In his hand, he carelessly juggled a bottle of wine, its contents sloshing about with a carefree disregard for potential spillage.

"Another weirdo mentor," Nate thought to himself, a wry smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

Nate's breath puffed white in the chilly air as he approached Professor Garret. The man seemed far more interested in the wine bottle's precarious dance between his fingers than in the arrival of his new pupil. Yet, as Nate stepped onto the sandy floor of the training arena, the disheveled professor vanished from sight with a fluid grace that belied his rough appearance.

"Always expect the unexpected," a voice whispered harshly against Nate's ear, the cold touch of metal kissing his throat. He stiffened, but the blade's dull edge was a clear sign—this was a lesson, not an attack.

"Professor Garret, I presume?" Nate ventured, keeping his tone even as adrenaline surged through his veins.

"Indeed," Garret responded, stepping back with a flourish, allowing Nate to see him for the first time. "And if you're going to wield a dagger, you'd best learn to do it correctly."

The impromptu introduction marked the beginning of a grueling initiation. Professor Garret, with movements as unpredictable as his appearance, led Nate through a myriad of exercises designed to sharpen both body and mind. Each drill demanded more precision, more agility, and more awareness than Nate knew he possessed.

"Balance," Garret instructed, pushing Nate to pivot on shifting footholds, "is just as crucial as the blade you hold."

Then came the obstacle course—a chaotic carnival of swinging pendulums that threatened to knock Nate off his feet, and buckets filled with ice-cold water dangling precariously overhead. Each step required careful timing; each leap, a burst of speed he was scarcely sure he could muster.

"Trust your instincts!" Garret called out, an impish grin spreading across his face as Nate narrowly avoided a torrential soak by mere inches.

Despite the thrumming exhaustion, Nate couldn't help but let out a surprised chuckle at the absurdity of his predicament. This was no ordinary training—it was a trial by jest and jeopardy, a test of resilience under the guise of whimsy.

"Good! Laughter will keep you light on your feet," Garret approved, clapping his hands as Nate regained his balance after a close encounter with a particularly aggressive pendulum.

With every slip, every near-miss, Nate's reflexes sharpened, his movements becoming more fluid, more intuitive. The initial awkwardness melted away, replaced by a newfound confidence in his abilities. He began to anticipate the rhythm of the swinging hazards, to predict the release of the chilling deluges above.

"Excellent,! Now, let's see how you handle surprise," Garret said, a mischievous twinkle in his eye that foretold the true challenge had only just begun.

Nate stood panting, his chest heaving as the last pendulum came to a standstill. "That was... intense," he gasped out.

"Intense?" Professor Garret chuckled, retrieving his wine bottle from the edge of the training arena. He took a casual swig before capping it with a cork. "No, lad, that was merely the overture. Now we begin in earnest."

With a weary groan, Nate straightened up, only to find the martial arts master already circling him like a hawk sizing up its prey. "A dagger isn't just a tool," Garret said, his voice low and steady. "It's an extension of your very will. You must be fluid, elusive. Strike from where you are least expected."

As Garret demonstrated a series of complex stances, Nate mimicked them, his muscles protesting each new position. Each stance was crafted to minimize his silhouette, to make him a fleeting shadow against any backdrop.

"Remember, confrontation is a last resort for a blade such as this," Garret continued, showcasing a stance that had Nate twisted almost sideways. "Your aim is the unexpected—like so."

In a flash, Garret's form blurred, and Nate barely registered the touch of cold metal against his back. The point was clear: in a real fight, that would have been a lethal stab.

"Understood," Nate replied, his voice a mix of admiration and frustration.

"Then let's put theory into practice." Garret's eyes gleamed with a predatory light as he tossed Nate a training dagger. "Defend yourself."

The mock battle commenced with Nate attempting to anticipate Garret's movements, but the professor was a tempest, relentless and unpredictable. Nate parried, ducked, and dodged, trying to incorporate the stances into his defense. Yet, for every strike he evaded, two more found their mark.

Bruises blossomed across Nate's skin like dark flowers unfurling in fast-forward. His limbs grew heavy, his breaths ragged. And then, darkness swallowed his vision as a well-placed blow to his temple sent him spiraling into unconsciousness.

---

When Nate next opened his eyes, the familiar scent of antiseptic and magic lingered in the air. Nurse Joy's silhouette hovered above him, her twin buns a soft pink halo in Nate's blurred sight.

"Back again, I see," she murmured, her hands aglow with healing energies that seeped into Nate's battered body. "Professor Garret doesn't hold back, does he?"

"Feels like he threw me off a cliff..." Nate mumbled, wincing as sensation returned to his bruises.

"Rest now. you've got a bit before your next class" she told him, stepping back as the glow from her hands faded.

Nate's gaze fell upon the floating prompt before him:

[Quest Complete: Hell Training]

His eyes widened, a surge of accomplishment rushing through him even as his body protested the day's exertions.

Another prompt cascaded into view.

[+3 levels, +3 stat points to each attribute (extra +3 in strength), +9 free stat points)]

"Wow," he whispered, feeling vitality returning to him in waves from the additional stat points he gained.

As he absorbed the information, yet another prompt emerged.

[You can now select a class]

Nate focused on the prompts

His finger hovered over the ethereal screen, the glow of the class options casting a soft light on his face. His emerald eyes darted between the choices.

"Blademaster, Acrobatic Skirmisher, Shadow Rogue," he murmured under his breath, each title resonating with a different chord in his soul. But when he reached the last option, his heart skipped a beat. "Illusionist Duelist... Special Class."

Without hesitation, Nate tapped the selection. A new window blossomed before his eyes.

[Class: Illusionist Duelist (Special Class)

Description- Master the seamless fusion of dagger precision and mesmerizing illusion magic. Confound enemies with illusions, disappear and unleash deadly strikes,

New Skills- Vanishing Act (Normal), Mirror Mirage (Rare), Phantom Flourish (Epic)]

A shiver ran down his spine as an infusion of knowledge and power settled into his being. His body felt lighter, almost buoyant, as if the weight of exhaustion had been lifted by invisible hands. The bruises from his grueling training seemed insignificant now, the pain a distant memory.

Standing up from the cot with newfound agility. He turned to Nurse Joy, offering a smile and giving his goodbyes

Stepping out of the nurse's office, Nate navigated the academy's labyrinthine corridors with a spring in his step. Classes that followed were mundane in comparison to what he had just experienced, yet he approached them with the same determination.

His last class of the day was a welcome sight. As he entered the room, he spotted Gwen, her sea-blue eyes catching the light like the ocean kissed by the sun. She waved at him, a playful grin on her lips, and he made his way over.

"Rough day?" Gwen teased, her laughter tinkling like bells in the wind.

"Let's just say, I've had better," Nate chuckled, sinking into the seat beside her. They exchanged stories and quips until the classroom door creaked open, announcing the arrival of their instructor.

Professor Aldric was a stark contrast to the vibrant energy of youth that filled the room; his presence seemed to cast a shadow, his dark eyes devoid of life's spark. Nate felt something flicker uncomfortably in his mana core for a second but it soon passed, so he began focusing on Aldric's lecture.

"Mana is not just energy; it's the lifeblood of all mages," Aldric intoned, his voice raspy like leaves skittering across cobblestones. "Respect it, or suffer the consequences."

As the professor delved into the intricacies of mana affinities and mage cores, Nate absorbed the information, filing it away for later reflection. When the class concluded, the fatigue that had momentarily lifted came crashing back down upon him like waves against cliffs.

"Hey, you sure you're alright?" Gwen asked, her concern evident as she peered into his eyes.

"Yeah, just tired. Let's do something fun this weekend, okay?" Nate suggested, forcing a smile.

"Deal. Rest up, hero," she winked, her words wrapping around him like a warm blanket.

Leaving the classroom behind, Nate trudged back to his dormitory. Each step felt heavier than the last, his body crying out for the sweet release of sleep. And as he collapsed onto his bed, consciousness slipping away, he knew that tomorrow would probably be just as painful.