Armaros heard the mana alarm he had set go off, and he got up. He made the bed, fluffed the pillows, and went down to the kitchen to make himself breakfast. At the time of four am.

Baleg had stressed the importance of going to bed early and waking up early. As far as the half-orc was concerned, the body needed to be in deep sleep until two am. But he had not made Armaros get up that early because the dungeon core was still trying to make muscles and put on weight.

Armaros made himself a plate of eggs and sausages, with turmeric in the eggs and just the hint of salt. He ate his breakfast with a glass of water, rather than the juice he had taken a liking to.

Baleg always told him that sugar was an enemy. It got you too fat to move and disrupted your mana flow. Not to mention, it rots your teeth. Armaros had checked with Leander to see if the half-orc was not pulling his leg. But it had all been the truth.

His friends were not very keen on him becoming an adventurer. Had tried to talk him out of it, in fact. However, then, the newest member, Jean, had told them all that Armaros was free to live his own life and that they should mind their business.

Armaros liked Jean. He was reserved, and he ran laps around the training hall with him. Being mindful of his pace, so, he wouldn't leave Armaros in the dust.

Not to mention, he had a lovely combination of red hair and blue eyes. And those high cheekbones would look lovely on one of Armaros's children.

And, there lay the problem. Armaros couldn't decide from which one of his friends he wanted children. Blonde was good, and the kind heart that came with the hair color could be inherited, he was sure.

Playful ginger was also good. Armaros would welcome a friendly, outspoken child. And those eyes would remind the dungeon core of the sky. So, another win.

A serious, dependable, red head with purple eyes was a novelty to Armaros. Dorian was there when Armaros needed him, and he had been the only one, aside from Jean, who had been supportive. Sure, his support had come in the form of silence, but Armaros liked to believe that he had not argued against Armaros's conviction out of respect for his determination.

Which one was the perfect father? Armaros could simply create the child like he would a mob. With just a drop of blood, he could do anything. But, from whom should he take it?

The dungeon core bit his lower lip. Morris's rule had stated that Armaros was not to create anything he can't take care of. The dungeon core could take care of a single child, easily. However, what of four?

They would bring him joy, he knew. Maybe their fathers would love them, too. After, Armaros explained to them that he admired them and wanted to have a piece of them.

He considered his thoughts, sighed, and went to wash the dishes. Sure, he could have left them for the inn's staff to wash, but Baleg had told him to not be lazy.

After he was done, he went to the shared bathrooms to shower and change his clothes. Then, he was off in the night air and running to the guild's training hall.

Once he reached it, he made a beeline for the archery range. Making a bow out of thin air was easy to him. A bow had no mind of its own, and he didn't have to force too much mana into it.

Then, Armaros made a flaming arrow and shot it at the dummy. It flew over its head, and the dummy broke into a victory dance.

"Eh? The animated ones again?" Armaros did not like fighting animated dummies. They were too arrogant by far.

"Loser of Loserville can't shoot!" The dummy yelled in its mechanic voice. Armaros knitted his brows and made another flaming arrow. The dummy took off running as Armaros did his best to aim.

"Did your mother dress you? Oh, right, you have no uniform yet," the dummy snickered as it jumped at the last second from an arrow that could have pierced it in the foot.

"I'll get you!" Armaros aimed another arrow as the dummy began to run in circles. The last one had been close. He then poured more mana into the arrow, trying something new.

"Fireball barrage!" Armaros yelled and he let loose the arrow. It flew over the dummy and then became ten small fireballs that bombarded the wooden, arrogant, creature.

"Ai! Hot, hot, hot!" The dummy screamed, its head on fire. Armaros petted his shoulder as the mana seals on the dummy activated and the dummy's fire was dosed off. "You will pay for that!"

A bow appeared into the dummy's hand, and it took aim.

"Wait, what?" Armaros took off running, zigzagging all the while as the arrows flew around him. Was this what happened when one hit an animated dummy? What sort of sadist invented them?

"Fireball barrage!" The dummy yelled, stealing Armaros's invention. Armaros gaped as the fireballs flew towards him. Then, he summoned an E ranked barrier, and it cracked on impact.

"No fair, cheater! But, I can use that too, now," the dummy was enveloped in a barrier, and it raised its bow again. However, Armaros was having none of it.  

"Fireball barrage," they both yelled at the same time, with Armaros working hard at repairing his cracked-up barrier. That was how Baleg found him. Yelling profanities at the dummy with the dummy yelling back, with words no less flowery.

Baleg nodded and smiled. Sure, the adventurers were going to have kittens when they noticed that he had talked the guild master into switching all the dummies with animated ones, but those lazy asses needed a wake-up call.

He had trained the dummies himself, feeding them a memory mirror crystal. The half-orc made his way out of the training hall, ready to face the music.