Ren stepped through the open wooden gate, and the moment he entered the training grounds, sharp sounds greeted him.
*Whack!*
*Thud!*
*"Hah!"*
The stomping of boots on hard earth, the clashing of wooden swords, and the shouts of trainees echoed through the air like the rhythm of a battlefield.
The training field was vast—enclosed by low wooden fences, its dry, hard-packed earth covered in footprints and sword marks. Several wooden dummies stood as training targets, while beginners and instructors moved with intense focus.
Sweat, dust, and determination mixed in a space that felt alive.
Ren walked slowly along the edge, letting his eyes sweep across the field—and in the crowd, he immediately recognized a few faces.
To the right, he spotted Kiel, his expression serious despite his still-clumsy movements. He swung a two-handed wooden sword, but each strike looked either too heavy or too slow. Yet his determination was unmistakable.
Not far from him stood the silver-haired man who had formed his own group earlier. His swings were steady, his body fluid and calm, his eyes sharp as if he already understood combat patterns. Though a beginner, his movements seemed far more natural.
Ren felt warmth in his chest as he realized—they were all trying. Just like him.
But before he could step further, a deep voice boomed from the center of the field.
"Oho, looks like we've got another newcomer."
The voice was thick and resonant, like a boulder dropped into a pond.
Ren turned.
From the left side of the field stood a massive, broad-shouldered man. His muscles were defined even beneath his half-open training shirt. His right eye was covered by a black leather patch, while his left eye studied Ren with a sharp but not hostile gaze.
A large sword hung at his waist, and beside him lay several wooden practice swords that looked heavier than those used by the other trainees.
"Your body's untrained, but your eyes are sharp. You're not here just to watch, are you?" he continued, his thunderous voice oddly soothing.
Ren swallowed slowly.
"...No. I came to train," he answered.
The man smiled—just slightly, but satisfied.
"Good. Name's Gideon. I'll be your instructor. If you've chosen the sword, then this is where it begins."
Ren nodded slowly.
His steps might still be light. But for the first time…
He stood on a training field—a place where body and will would be forged.
Kiel, standing a few paces away, turned and shot him a teasing grin. "Oho, so you've made up your mind, huh, Ren?"
Ren met Kiel's gaze calmly. "Yeah. I'll try being a Swordsman."
Kiel raised an eyebrow but didn't press further. He knew—Ren had decided, and nothing would change that now. Still, he couldn't suppress a small smirk.
Meanwhile, Instructor Gideon, standing a few steps ahead, crossed his arms and surveyed the recruits. His muscular frame loomed like a boulder amidst the crowd. His sharp eye scanned each novice now standing before him.
"Alright," his authoritative voice boomed. "You're all new recruits. Starting today, I'll teach you the basics of being a Swordsman."
He stepped forward, patting the sheathed sword at his waist, his voice growing deeper.
"You'll train here for a full week. And after that…" Gideon paused, letting his words sink in. "...I'll release you into a world crawling with monsters."
The atmosphere instantly grew heavier. The trainees, including Ren, felt the weight in the air. This wasn't just about physical training—this was about survival.
"Think this'll be easy?" Gideon continued coldly, as if testing them. "Out there, you're not just fighting monsters. You're fighting a world that'll swallow you whole if you slip up. Once you leave here, no one guarantees you'll return in one piece. No way back. That's the price."
Ren felt his blood stir. The words were harsh. An unavoidable reality.
Gideon stepped back in front of the recruits, his dark eye locking onto each of them.
"If you're not ready… leave now. No one's forcing you to stay."
No one moved. Only the wind whistling past the wooden fences broke the silence. Every eye remained fixed on Gideon with unwavering intensity.
Finally, after seconds that felt like an eternity, Gideon spoke again.
"Fine. If you're still here, you've made your choice. We'll start with combat fundamentals. You'll train your body and mind, build strength and endurance, and more than that… you'll learn to endure."
Gideon turned, gesturing to the wooden swords scattered on the ground. "Pick up your swords, stand straight, and we begin. You've got one week to prepare."
Ren bent down and lifted the wooden sword near his feet. It felt heavy in his grip, yet he sensed it—this was the first step toward something greater.
This was where the real journey began. Not just as an adventurer, but as a Swordsman.
Instructor Gideon stood tall before them, arms crossed over his chest. His sharp left eye swept across the line of novices—assessing, yet holding some unspoken expectation.
Meanwhile, dull thuds of wood clashing echoed from different parts of the field as recruits began learning how to grip and balance their training swords.
But Gideon's voice boomed again, halting all movement.
"Right now," he declared firmly, "you're nothing but basic-level recruits."
He stepped forward slowly, his boots kicking up dry dust from the hardened training ground.
"Your movements are stiff. Your breathing's shallow. And your courage… is still a shadow that could flee at any moment."
Some recruits tensed. Including Ren.
"But if you endure—gripping this sword day after day, tearing your muscles, pushing your body past its limits… then there'll come a point…"
Gideon stopped right in the middle of their formation.
"...when you'll feel the aura inside you."
Ren's eyes widened slightly. *Aura?*
"This is the dividing line," Gideon continued, his voice deepening like an incantation. "Once you master aura, you'll no longer stand as a beginner. You'll step into the intermediate level—and at that point, your path to becoming a Swordsmaster truly begins."
A few trainees exchanged glances. Though they didn't fully understand… the word *Swordsmaster* resonated in their chests.
A goal.
A faint point of light—but enough to follow in this world's darkness.
Ren tightened his grip on the wooden sword. He didn't know what aura looked like, didn't know how it felt to grow stronger. But in his chest… something ignited.
"Training will be brutal. Your body will resist. There'll be days you want to quit."
Gideon tapped his left chest with a calloused finger.
"But those who endure… will walk out of here not just as adventurers. But as warriors."
He turned toward the pile of training weapons.
"Now—take your stances. We begin from the basics."
And with that, the sounds of shifting feet, lifted swords, and rising determination filled Crossroads' morning air once more.
Ren took a deep breath, then slowly lowered into position.
This wasn't just training.
This was the first day… of a long journey to becoming more than just a lost soul.