Novus read aloud the calligraphy writing on the archway.

"Avalan Training Grounds."

After stopping multiple people for directions–regular people, not those crazy players–Novus stood before an elaborate red archway. From beyond the archway, he heard the shouts and screams of multiple people.

This must be the place Percival and his 'dojo mate network' mentioned.

Stepping inside, Novus took a deep breath in and felt the mana swirl against his body.

Ding!

"HA!"

Novus watched a person fly past him and out of the training grounds. Novus briefly pondered as he avoided the figure and pulled up the word box that appeared.

I wonder why everyone comes flying at me.

 

 

Novus retraced his step outside the training grounds and the buff just as easily disappeared.

"Permanent while only inside, I guess."

Novus found his answer as he scanned the stone walls and flooring. Erratic, faintly blue lines silently throbbed with power and kept the ambient mana pooled in the area.

Are those supposed to be formations? What terrible quality. A newborn gnome could do better.

Novus wasn't impressed with the magical lines, but he still had to admit that the extra ambient mana would help him train faster at his current level.

"AGH!"

This scream didn't send a trainee flying, but it wasn't much better based on the horrid tone.

Novus looked over at a crowd of people surrounding a simply raised ring. On it, a pair of disciples carried a crying person away. Meanwhile, what Novus assumed to be a training instructor stood with their arms crossed.

"Next!"

A few seconds of silence were followed by a person reluctantly being pushed into the ring by their friends.

"Ouch! Hey!"

"Welcome, new trainee! Prepare yourself!"

Novus looked with disinterest as the instructor and trainee clashed. Honestly, it gave Novus déjà vu as he saw the instructor pummel the club-wielding trainee and throw him out of the ring. It reminded Novus of his meeting with Percival.

That looks like an excellent place to start.

Novus avoided the ring as he pushed through the crowd towards an area past it all. Along the way, his eyes wandered, and he attempted to use Identify on various NPCs and players. A few noticed and gave disgruntled looks, but the vast majority were oblivious to the inspection.

This confirmed it for Novus. At least at its lower levels, the skill Identify would alert the identified person.

Maybe if I raise the skill level, I could be more discreet with the skill.

Novus continued pushing through the crowd.

"Why bother giving us a fighting quest if it's going to crush noobs every time? The training instructor is too overpowered! Though that means the skill the quest is supposed to give might be tempting…."

"I'm getting bored. Should we try out the craftsman district?"

"Yeah! That'll be bound to have some quests. Maybe it'll give us a weapon or skill to defeat the instructor."

Novus scoffed at the ignorant players and arrived before what looked like a makeshift scarecrow in the far corner of the courtyard. A burlap sack filled with some straw-like fibres kept the tightly wrapped training 'crow protected.

Novus tuned out the world as his fist lightly contacted the training scarecrow. The fibres' subtle crunch and the overworked fabric's rough feel met Novus' knuckles.

Sigh.

"Basic training all over again."

Novus' eyes flashed with weary nostalgia before hardening into resolve.

Ptah.

Novus remained standing as his fist embedded back into the fibres. His fingers uncurled as they opened back into a sideways palm and curled into a punch.

Ptah.

…

Ptah.

Novus attempted to recreate his previous life's training with the simple act of punching in stages.

First were the fingers. Then, the arm motion was added in.

Ptah!

A stronger impact hit the 'crow, but Novus' closed eyes scrunched.

"Wrist caved in."

Ptah.

Novus went back to the finger punching before a while later, another more substantial impact was centred in the 'crow's stomach.

Ptah!

This time, the punch elicited a brief smile on Novus' face as he continued to hit the 'crow. Not even the shouts of the nearby training ring could shake Novus' focus.

…

Time passed as Novus' training incorporated his upper and lower torso, his legs, and a shuffling step that made the crow shudder at the base.

PTAH!

No leaves fluttered, the suns in the sky didn't dim, and the world certainly didn't pause from the punch, but the punch was sturdy, and its impact wasn't light anymore.

"That's about right."

Covered in sweat, Novus exhaled at his efforts.

Novus briefly wondered as he dismissed the word boxes and fought off the lessening tides of dry throat and hunger pangs.

What exactly did that god do to this body? If I level up Player's Body, will I not need to eat or drink anything? This body is an anomaly, at least at the lower power levels. Even the gashes on my knuckles have healed within record time.

Novus flexed his fingers into a fist and felt the bit of new strength that wasn't there before.

It's just as Percival said. Each wound that heals brings with it a tempered strength. Why is that? Is it mana naturally strengthening this body? A natural bloodline shared by the players? An ingrained body-refinement method?

Novus wouldn't get any answers as even Solace hid behind 'limited system authorization' as an excuse.

Novus added the thoughts to an ever-growing list of questions as he consumed the courtesy items kept in one of the handiest parts of being a player.

The Inventory.

It reminded Novus of spatial storage tools. However, those were much rarer, and it slightly shocked Novus how each player supposedly had one. Even in his past life, it had taken Novus years to track down a quality subspace and turn it into a physical form. All because that dwarven merchant sold him that scam of a spatial ring.

Novus shook his head of the thought as he looked at his slightly filled inventory boxes.

There wasn't much inside: A few loaves of stale bread, a refillable water canteen, a simple beginner's knife and a cloth armour wrap. Oh, and whatever-his-name's sword. The part that made Novus internally rejoice was the coin count in the corner of the screen. Currently, it only showed twelve copper coins, but even that was enough for Novus to rejoice internally.

After all, who doesn't love money?

Regardless, the inventory was a lovely tool that kept items in the same condition as they entered. Warm food came out steaming hot, and cold water came out iced.

I wonder if it works with projectiles. Would an exploding bomb be contained within my inventory? Would a swinging sword fly out of my inventory?

Always one for questions, Novus enveloped himself in thoughts as he meandered to another corner of the courtyard. In the corner were boxes of wooden weapons of all shapes and sizes.

In his thoughtful daze, Novus ran his hand over the various weapons.

What terrible craftmanship. I'm pretty sure it'll snap after a few powerful swings. Uneven and dull to the point that it couldn't even cut a vegetable.

Novus looked at all the different weapons. There were axes, staves, daggers, and more. But the one his gaze lingered on was a simply carved sword.

Memories blended with his thoughts as he gripped the sword and yanked it out of the box.

His fingers ran through the grain of the wood and felt the sword's length. The thoughts clouding Novus' mind fell away instantly as the memory of his mother's sword training flashed up.

Novus' grip tightened on the sword, and he walked back to his 'crow.

Whew.

The breath quelled the nervousness as he went over a simple overhead swing. In his mind, Novus replayed the image of his mother swinging her sword.

First was the grip.

Squeeze.

Then, the wrist movement.

…

Like the trained punch, Novus worked on individual parts that would add up to a strike greater than the sum of its parts. Time passed as elements of the swing were layered and melded together. Novus struck nothing but air as each swing became more pronounced. More thoughtful.

Gradually, his eyes closed as he focused on replaying the one image in his mind repeatedly. He had done it many times in his previous life, and this world was no different.

Time slowly crawled on under Novus' concentrated training, but it felt like only minutes to him.

…

The slash wasn't fanciful; instead, the sword zipped downwards directly and decisively.

Crack!

"Shit."