"Yes, sir," I said, already standing in front of his desk.
He pulled out his drawer and brought out a red book with the picture of a dagger on its cover.
"Here. I want you to have this," he said, offering the book to me. "I know it isn’t much to prepare you for the dungeon tomorrow, but it should at least help you with your dagger movements."
I nodded and took the book from him. After all, I needed all the help I could get and even more.
"Can I ask something of you, sir?" I added, watching his face for any reaction before continuing.
"You can go ahead," he replied.
I nodded again and went on. "Can you also give me a book to help with my bow marksmanship?" He arched up his eyebrow.
"I didn’t know you made use of a bow. Can you show it to me, please?" he asked.
I swallowed a lump of saliva. When he asked me to show him the Star Bow, I knew the risk of what I was asking. If he recognized the Star Bow, he would surely be angry at me for taking more than one weapon from the academy weapon room. But this was a risk I was willing to take. Come tomorrow, it was either I kept my secret of the bow or died with it inside the dungeon and that was something I was not willing to do after coming this far.
I nodded and then summoned the Star Bow from my system. The bow manifested, looking like it was crafted from midnight itself. Its limbs swept outward in a jagged, elegant arc, each curve shaped like the wing of a bird of prey. The surface was a deep, shimmering black, with faint hints of violet and blue that pulsed beneath it like starlight seen through storm clouds. Not painted. Not dyed. As if the cosmos itself had been poured into its core and locked behind the surface. Each end of the bow flared into talon-like spikes, wicked and graceful. The string between them was thin and dark, but not fragile.
"I must say, that’s a nice-looking bow. Must be one of your family heirlooms, right?" I nodded at him.
"Thank the gods he didn’t recognize it," I breathed a sigh of relief. I could feel my racing heart calming down now.
"I think I do have something for you that would fit this bow perfectly. Oh, here it is,a guide for a recurve bow," he said after searching for a while. He offered it to me. I thanked him and then dismissed the Star Bow and left the classroom, heading for my second class for the day.
------------------------------------------
I was able to make it in time before the instructor arrived, so I took a seat near the window with Nick sitting close to me.
The door shut with a quiet thud as the instructor stepped in, posture straight and presence firm. He didn’t look like a man who tolerated laziness.
"I’m Instructor Darius," he said, voice even and steady not loud, but everyone heard him. "If you’re sitting here thinking combat is all about swinging hard and shouting louder than your opponent, I suggest you leave now before someone dies because of your ignorance."
"Good. That means I’ve got a class worth shaping."
He took a few steps forward, hands behind his back. His eyes passed over each student like he was reading something we hadn’t written down.
"Today’s lesson: Control. Every fight you walk into, you either control it or it controls you. That starts with how you think before you move."
He raised a single finger.
"First Observation. Watch your enemy. Their footing. Their stance. Even their breathing. A fighter gives away more than they know. Most of you are too impatient to notice."
"Second Timing. Don’t waste energy striking the air. Don’t rush. Don’t flinch. Most deaths I’ve seen come from acting one second too soon or one too late."
"Adaptation. No plan survives a real fight. You’ll get hit. Your weapon might break. Your footing might slip. The smart ones adjust. The dead ones hesitate and suffer the consequences of their actions."
He let the last word sit for a moment.
"Fourth Pressure. Apply it. Respond to it. Use it. A real warrior knows how to stay calm when the air’s thick with killing intent. You learn to breathe through it. Think through it. You should learn how to face pressure in battle and also how to put pressure on your own opponents."
He looked around again.
"Some of you have strength. Some have speed. Some have skill. None of that means anything if you panic when blood’s in the air. This class isn’t about glory. It’s about surviving long enough to earn the right to win a fight."
Then he moved to the front again.
"We’ll be covering stance breakdowns, momentum shifts, reading muscle tension, and predicting follow-through. You’ll learn to exploit openings not just in the body, but in the mind as well."
"Any idiot can throw a punch. This class will teach you when not to and when to."
He turned, walking toward the door.
"That’s your first lesson. Remember it. Because the first time you hesitate, you better hope your opponent doesn’t remember theirs. You are all dismissed for the day."
And with that, he left quiet, efficient, and without looking back to see how the students reacted to his teaching. Content originally comes from novel•fire.net
Immediately, the academy bell rang, signaling the end of the lessons for the day.
"Hey, Michael, want to grab something to eat with me?" Nick asked me as we were picking up our belongings.
"Sorry, I can’t. I have something to do first before grabbing something for a bite. But enjoy yourself, alright?" I said to him, already heading out of the classroom.
Next stop: the training hall. After all, I had what I needed to prepare myself for tomorrow’s dungeon, and I had to focus on that right now more than anything.