Chapter 45: Dojo

Chapter 45: DojoThe sky was still dark outside when Adrian woke up, opening his eyes as the Mana Fans’ breeze brushed his face.

[05:05 AM].

’I woke up early,’ he thought before sitting up.

He took a quick glance at his Factory’s panel to realize that eight Communicators were ready.

’Nice... I’ll check later,’ he decided.

[EXP: 16150 / 16500]

He had gotten another wave of EXP while sleeping, and now Level 10 was as close as ever.

’I’ll likely level up today.’

Karl’s snores filled the room, his spear clutched tightly. Adrian ignored him, heading to the public baths.

He grabbed a bucket, filled it at the well, and scrubbed in a stone stall, the cold water waking him fully.

After he was done with his bath, he returned to dorm to find out that Karl was up, doing push-ups, sweat dripping as he counted,



"Thirty-five, thirty-six..." He grinned at Adrian. "Joining, roomie?"

"Nah," Adrian said, flopping onto his bed. He’d never liked exercise, not now, not in his past life.

Karl’s routine fit a spearman, but Adrian’s strength was his gun. ’Let him sweat,’ he thought, closing his eyes. Karl switched to squats, undeterred. "Big day, man!"

Having nothing to do, Adrian drifted back to sleep,

At 7:00 AM, a bell rang, sharp and clear. Adrian sat up, and Karl grabbed his spear. "Let’s go!" Karl said, locking the door behind them.

The corridor buzzed with knights as they headed to the cafeteria.

Adrian piled his tray with bread, eggs, and a mana-infused apple, its stamina boost confirmed by [Analyze].

Karl wolfed down oats, babbling about drills. "Can’t wait!" he said, finishing fast and sprinting toward the East Wing.

Adrian ate slowly, watching knights leave for the training fields. ’There’s no need to rush,’ he thought, expecting another bell.

None came, so he finished and set off to the East Wing.

Near the Wing’s heart stood a massive Dojo with its double doors open.

Adrian approached, the last to arrive — others, even those who ate first, had sprinted here, their excitement outpacing his steady pace.

The dojo was enormous, as big as a football field, its polished wooden floor and serene atmosphere giving it a different feel.

The air smelled of wax and steel, and the walls were lined with racks holding swords, spears, axes, bows and other weapons.

Nineteen training mats were arranged in a loose circle, one for each knight, their dark fabric stark against the wood. The space felt alive, like it had seen countless battles and was hungry for more.

At the entrance, a neat pile of shoes sat on a stone ledge — every knight had removed theirs.

Adrian frowned. ’Strange rule,’ he thought, but he knelt, unlacing his boots and placing them beside another.

The wood was cool under his bare feet, smooth but firm, and he crossed the floor, weaving between knights already seated.

Adrian found the last free mat, near the back, and settled cross-legged, the gun at his belt a reassuring weight.

Up front, on an elevated mat, Master Von sat, his bald head catching the day light, his dark robe neatly folded.

His eyes were closed and he was still as stone, deep in meditation.

The dojo was silent, not a whisper or shuffle from the knights, their gazes fixed on Von or the floor. Adrian’s stomach twisted.

’Is he waiting for me?’ he thought, the delay gnawing at him. ’I wasn’t that late.’

Five minutes passed, the silence heavy, and he wondered if something was wrong. ’What’s with this guy?’ he thought, studying Von’s calm face, his scowl absent for once.

The knights’ tension was palpable, their breaths shallow, as if afraid to disturb the air.

Ten minutes later, a bell rang, its chime echoing through the dojo like a release. Von’s eyes opened, sharp and piercing, sweeping the room with an intensity that made the knights flinch, though Adrian felt nothing.

"Welcome," Von said, his voice low but clear, cutting through the quiet like a blade. The knights bowed their heads, a reflex of respect, and Adrian followed.

Von stood, his robe rustling.



"I introduced myself yesterday as Master Von. I’m your homeroom and combat instructor. Your mornings belong to me, every day, as we forge you into knights of Zarion."

His gaze lingered on them. "Any words?"

"Thank you, Master Von," the knights said, their voices steady. Adrian joined in, his tone even as he watched Von closely. The man’s presence was undeniable, even without the aura he had learned of.

Von nodded. "Good. Stand up. Let’s begin."

The knights rose, mats shifting, and Von stepped to the dojo’s center, his small stature commanding despite the vast space.

"You nineteen are among Zarion’s most skilled young knights," he said, his voice firm. "Your trials proved your talent, but talent alone won’t make you legends. We start with drills — endurance, discipline, unity. These are your foundation."

He paused, his scowl returning, eyes glinting. "First, running. Fifty laps around the dojo. Now."

Adrian’s mind recoiled. ’Fifty laps?’ he thought, his jaw tightening. ’Around this place?’

The dojo’s size hit him anew — its polished floor stretched like an arena, easily 400 meters per lap.

’Is he serious?’ He reached out to the Tech Core, his voice silent: [What’s the dojo’s perimeter? You’ve mapped it.]

[Perimeter: 395.87 meters,] the system confirmed.

Adrian’s stomach sank as he calculated. ’Fifty laps is 20 kilometers,’ he thought, disbelief surging. ’Doesn’t he know we’re kids?’

He glanced around, expecting groans or hesitation, but the knights looked... thrilled. Karl’s grin was wider than ever, his spear bouncing as he stretched.

The rest were all happy too.

’They’re excited?’ Adrian thought, frustration bubbling. ’They’ll figure it out when their legs give up. I need to focus on me. This guy has to be joking.’

Von clapped, the sound sharp. "Outside. Follow me." He led them to the dojo’s rear exit, a wide door opening to the training fields.

Adrian moved to grab his boots, but Von’s gaze stopped him cold, his scowl piercing. "Look at your mates," Von said, his voice like ice. "Are they wearing anything? Leave them. Go."

Adrian bit back a retort. ’Barefoot?’ he thought, glancing at the others, their feet bare on the wood.

He dropped his boots, joining the line, and muttered inwardly, ’They’ll regret it when the ground heats up.’ The fields outside were packed dirt, already warming under the sun, and Adrian braced for the burn.

The training fields stretched wide, the dojo’s outer wall a clear marker for their laps. Von positioned them in a loose line, spacing each knight a meter apart, their bare feet sinking slightly into the dirt.

Karl bounced beside Adrian, grinning. "Ready to race, roomie?"

Adrian didn’t spare Karl a glance and looked up ahead, awaiting Master Von’s instructions.

He soon faced them and barked, "Begin," his voice cutting through the crisp air.

The knights surged forward, feet pounding the dirt causing dust to rise in small clouds.

Adrian started strong, his legs moving with a rhythm he hadn’t felt in years. In his past life, school had forced him into track days — short sprints, maybe a mile, nothing like this.

He’d hated it then, always lagging, but now he pushed himself, keeping pace with the middle of the pack.

His breaths came steady, the cool morning air filling his lungs as he rounded the dojo’s first corner, the wall’s shadow flickering over him.

By the end of the first lap, fatigue hit hard. His legs burned, heavier than before, and his chest tightened.



’Already?’ he thought, slowing his pace, his steps growing cautious. He glanced around — Karl was near the front, his strides long and easy.

The others looked comfortable too, their movements practiced, like they’d done this a hundred times.

’They’re used to this,’ Adrian guessed, frustration creeping in. He wasn’t, but he kept going, forcing one foot in front of the other, the dirt rough against his soles.

The second lap blurred into the third, and his vision swam, dizziness creeping into his head.

The dojo’s wall seemed to tilt, the ground unsteady. His pace was a jog now, barely more than a shuffle.


Karl passed him, clapping his shoulder.

"Come on, man, keep it up!" The encouragement stung, but it pushed Adrian forward, his stubbornness kicking in.

He wouldn’t quit, not with everyone watching.

Master Von stood at the field’s edge, his eyes locked on the knights.

"Don’t stop!" he shouted, his voice like a whip, aimed at Adrian. The words burned, and Adrian gritted his teeth, dragging himself through the third lap.

’Just keep moving,’ he told himself, but his body screamed to stop.

Halfway through the fourth lap, the world spun harder for Adrian. His knees buckled and his vision blurred and then, he collapsed on the ground with a loud thud.