Stepping into the training grounds, Michael slowly surveyed his surroundings. The do-shaped ceiling was gone, replaced by what seed like untouched nature. A vast blue sky stretched overhead, where birds chirped and flitted through the air.
Beneath his feet, he no longer felt the cold, hard stone of the floor but the soft, natural give of earth.
An illusion? he wondered, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight.
As he observed the serene scene, a man clad in armor began approaching him.
Michael, sensing potential danger, instinctively tensed and fixed his gaze on the stranger. But the armored man greeted him warmly.
"Hey! It's been ages since I've seen another person. Are you the new paladin?"
The man removed his helt, revealing golden hair that shimred in the sunlight. His cheerful smile radiated a genuine friendliness.
However, the mont his eyes t Michael's, the man's expression changed. Composing himself, he placed a hand over his chest and knelt on one knee. Bowing his head, he spoke with reverence.
"Forgive my rudeness, O new Master of Fire. I am Alexander, a soul bound to this training ground by the will of the goddess. What brings you here?"
Michael motioned for him to rise. Having picked up on clues from the knight's words, Michael quickly steadied his thoughts and played along.
"Treat as you would any other knight here. I'm rely here to train. Are you, like Lucrecia, bound to this place?"
Alexander nodded, his expression clouded by sorrow and regret.
"That is correct, my lord. I am Alexander Furbles, the first commander of the Radiance's Holy Knights. I once served the vile Radiance but ca to my senses after eting the goddess. For my betrayal, I was sentenced to be burned alive by the Radiance's hounds. The goddess saved my wretched soul and allowed to remain here."
After taking a mont to compose himself, Alexander turned to Michael and asked, "My lord, what kind of training do you desire?"
Michael studied Alexander in silence, a mix of emotions swirling within him. Sadness, empathy, and curiosity. How had the Radiance's first knight commander ended up bound to this place?
"I've recently acquired so new techniques," Michael finally said. "I'd like training that will help maximize their potential."
Alexander nodded. "To tailor your training, I'll first need to assess your skills. What is your weapon of choice?"
Michael silently raised his bow.
"A bow! And quite an extraordinary one at that," Alexander remarked with admiration. "I have just the challenge in mind. Would you care to hit every bird in flight?"
Raising his hand, Alexander summoned a flock of birds from the distant forest. They soared into the sky, countless in number, varying in size, and moving in erratic, unpredictable patterns.
Michael observed the birds' movents for a mont. Not too difficult.
Taking a deep breath, he slowly drew his bowstring. His first arrow pierced the heart of the highest bird.
Almost instantly, a second arrow followed, curving gracefully to strike two birds at once.
Alexander watched in amazent. The fluidity of Michael's movents and the precision of his arrows made it seem as if the arrows guided themselves.
With each shot, the birds burst into flas and disappeared. It was a testant to the countless hours Michael had spent honing his archery skills.
He continued firing arrow after arrow, each one finding its target without fail.
"...Did you just hit all of them? How is that even possible?" Alexander asked, unable to hide his astonishnt.
Michael lowered his bow and smiled. "You said to hit them all, didn't you?"
"Incredible… You are a natural marksman," Alexander said, his eyes shining with admiration. Collecting himself, he continued, "Would you now like to spar against another archer? This opponent specializes in stealth and will prove quite challenging."
"I'm open to any opponent. I want to gauge my current abilities and continue improving," Michael replied confidently.
Alexander gave a silent gesture, and a figure materialized from thin air.
A tall woman with dark skin and long, pointed ears stepped forward. Her body was adorned with intricate tattoos, and she moved with an eerie silence.
Is that… a dark elf? Michael wondered, intrigued.
The woman carried a sleek, black bow and walked with the quiet grace of a shadow.
"This is a dark elf, an ancient race long extinct. In this training ground, anything can be summoned. She is a perfect replica of a real individual and will test your skills thoroughly. Let's begin!" Alexander announced.
Clapping his hands, he sent the dark elf sprinting toward the forest.
Her movents were cat-like—swift, fluid, and silent. In an instant, she vanished from sight.
Michael didn't hesitate. He moved quickly, lding into the shadows of the training ground's structures. If she's using stealth, I'll counter with stealth as well.
He scanned his surroundings sharply, missing nothing, not even the smallest flicker of movent.
As he erged from the shadows into the forest, Michael spotted her.
The dark elf crouched among the trees, her eyes cold and predatory as she aid her bow like a hunter stalking prey.
But who was the true hunter?
Locating her position, Michael held his breath and waited.
Finally, he saw an opening. Raising his bow, he drew the string back slowly, his focus razor-sharp.
The faint sound of the string being drawn seed to alert the dark elf. She began to dodge, but it was too late.
Michael's arrow flew true, striking her square in the waist.
"Argh…" she groaned, clutching her side as she stumbled.
The fatal wound caused her to convulse. Monts later, her form began to dissolve into flas.
As Michael approached, the last flicker of fire consud her, leaving no trace behind.
Watching from outside the forest, Alexander was visibly stunned.
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"So quickly…?"
Shaking his head in disbelief, Alexander walked over to Michael, his expression a mixture of awe and respect.
"My lord, your skill is unbelievable. She was the pride of the dark elves, a master of stealth. Yet you defeated her so swiftly."
Michael shrugged nonchalantly, lowering his bow. His breathing remained steady, and there wasn't a single bead of sweat on his brow.
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