Chapter 7: Preparing for the Dungeon
It took me quite a while to convince her. Initially, I wanted to go alone, to limit the number of witnesses, but she insisted—with that sweet yet firm tone unique to my aunt—that I take others with me. She said it wasn’t a whim of a proud boy, but a matter of responsibility. I eventually gave in.
In Daemon’s private training hall, I waited for the delivery of the potions I’d ordered. It was a large circular room, its walls inlaid with protective runes, illuminated by mana crystals suspended from the ceiling. The black granite floor was partially covered with worn training mats. Everything seemed untouched for years. There wasn’t a single scratch on the training dummies. Daemon had never used this place. He hadn’t needed to.
I stood in the center, bare-chested, assessing my own body. Too thin. My arms lacked bulk, and my breath grew labored quickly. I’d regained a body too weak to survive what lay ahead.
I grabbed a training sword, a simple, well-balanced piece of wood. After barely a few seconds of wielding it, my arm went numb.
"My endurance is shit," I muttered, setting it down with a grimace.
No point in burdening myself with a heavy sword. I’d opt for a dagger. Light, discreet. But its range was too short. Too risky if a monster charged me. I then eyed the bow rack. My gaze darkened slightly.
"The bow will do," I said softly. "I used to hunt with my father in my past life... even after his death, I continued kyudo."
I picked up a longbow, drew it gently, feeling the tension in the string, and nocked an arrow. A target stood twenty meters away. I took a deep breath.
*Fwosh*
The arrow grazed the edge of the target.
"I missed by a hair... but it’ll be enough," I concluded.