Training

Damien approached his next destination, the main training hall of the village, his steps deliberate.

His goal was clear: to max out his stats before forming his core, something he had to achieve before reaching level 10.

Joe hadn't explained the exact benefits of maxing out his stats or forming his mana core early, but the fact that it was even mentioned hinted at its importance.

The training hall wasn't as crowded as the grinding spot outside, but people were constantly coming and going.

In front of the tall, rectangular brick building, players tirelessly attacked scarecrows, using all sorts of weapons in their pursuit of extra stats.

This area was designated for learning and practicing basic skills under the guidance of the instructors, but some players stayed longer, repeating the same actions over and over.

In the brief time Damien had been outside, word had already spread about this method.

It was one way to earn bonus stat points, though tedious and time-consuming.

For example, if a player swung their sword hundreds or thousands of times, pushing their stamina to its limits, they might gain a point or two in stamina.

But to earn another boost, they'd have to swing it a million times next.

It wasn't the most efficient use of time, but perfectionists would fight for every advantage they could get.

Damien's attention shifted to an instructor sitting in the corner on a wooden chair, a stick resting on his lap.

As soon as Damien's gaze landed on him, the instructor's eyes flicked up to meet his, exuding a domineering aura.

Where other players might have been unnerved, Damien simply nodded, unfazed, before walking over to an empty spot in front of the hall and letting out the breath he'd been holding.

He had no intention of joining the mundane exercises everyone else was doing. Chasing after every stat point wasn't necessary—at least, not in the usual way.

Instead, Damien planned to use a technique Joe had given him, the same one he'd used to train in the real world.

Taking a deep breath, Damien began a series of slow, deliberate movements.

"Hey, who does he think he is?"

"Trying to get attention with those weird poses?"

"Yoga class is down the street!"

The taunts rolled in, mocking him. Others laughed at his clean skin and speculated wildly about him, but Damien didn't hear a word.

He ignored the stares, continuing his movements, each one more precise than the last. 

The routine wasn't flashy—it wasn't some secret technique.

As some had pointed out, it was a blend of strength training and yoga-like exercises, but Damien pushed on, his body drenched in sweat as he twisted and contorted himself into various positions.

Three hours passed, and the crowd around him dwindled. People came, watched for a while, chuckled, and moved on.

Only a few remained—those grinding with the scarecrows for extra stats.

They observed Damien closely, curious about his persistence.

Suddenly, the instructor rose from his seat, drawing the attention of several players.

They watched, puzzled, as the man, who had sat motionless for hours, strode toward Damien with purpose.

He stopped in front of Damien, his face filled with respect. "You're almost there. Keep going," he encouraged, shocking everyone nearby.

The instructor, who had been gruff and dismissive toward other players, was now showing reverence to this strange newcomer.

Some players tried to imitate Damien, but they quickly gave up, unnoticed by the instructor.

The man's focus remained entirely on Damien, his words of encouragement becoming more frequent. Minutes later, something unexpected happened.

Damien heard a notification, but he couldn't check it.

His body had begun to ooze a dark, foul-smelling substance, unlike anything he'd experienced before in his real-world training.

Shocked, he broke his posture.

"What the hell is that?"

"Did he just fart?"

"Maybe he crapped himself from excitement."

The players recoiled, wrinkling their noses at the stench, but the instructor's face lit up with pride. "You've done well, lad. You've cleansed your body of impurities," he said, patting Damien's shoulder.

Damien, now standing tall, bowed slightly in respect.

"It's been a long time since I've met someone like you," the instructor continued, his voice filled with admiration.

"Your eyes hold a sharpness, and your will burns bright. Do you seek power, young man? Do you wish to achieve perfection?"

The instructor's words left everyone dumbfounded.

The man who had been rude and indifferent to them was now offering Damien a quest—a special one, at that. Damien, equally surprised, listened intently.

"A few years ago, during a life-and-death battle, I came across this vial," the instructor said, pulling out a small glass bottle and handing it to Damien with a solemn expression.

Damien accepted it with genuine reverence, understanding the significance of what was happening.

"My friend analyzed this liquid and found it to be priceless. It cleanses the body from its roots and aids in the formation of a magic core. Unfortunately, my prime has passed, and using it now would only bring about my death. But if you're willing to help me, I'll give it to you."

The instructor's eyes locked onto Damien. "You're too weak now, but come back when you're stronger, and then you can help."

[Ding: Unique Chain Quest activated]

[Ding: Quest cannot be refused]

[Ding: Help the instructor]

[Ding: First quest: Return to the instructor after reaching Rank 1]

[Reward: Second quest in the chain]

Damien smiled. He'd not only gained something valuable but also unlocked a quest that could be life-changing.

"I will help you as soon as I'm strong enough," he promised, determination in his voice.

The instructor nodded approvingly. "Good. Use the elixir when forming your mana core to gain the most from it."

Damien nodded, his mind already racing with possibilities as the instructor returned to his seat.