**TRAINING THROUGH THE NIGHT**
I locked the office door and summoned the system.
The black cat materialized on my desk, tail swishing. "Finally!" it said cheerfully. "I thought you'd forgotten about me, Boss!"
"Unlock the gold storage function."
"Right away!" The cat's eyes gleamed as the chest in the corner began to glow. Gold coins started flowing into a dimensional space, vanishing from physical reality. "That'll be 10,000 gold coins for the unlock, Boss!"
I watched the counter drop: 10,000… 9,000… 8,000…
"Wait," I said. "Why is it taking more than 10,000?"
"Oh! Well, you see, Boss, each gold coin has slightly different weight due to manufacturing variations. So we have to average it out, and the final cost came to 10,243 gold coins!"
I glared at the cat. "You're robbing me."
"I'm providing a valuable service!" The cat protested. "And look—unlimited storage capacity! You can store millions of gold coins without worrying about physical space or security! It's very convenient!"
The storage function unlocked with a soft chime. Fine. Worth it, probably. Having that much gold sitting around physically was a security nightmare anyway.
"Now show me the skill shop."
A window appeared displaying available abilities. I scanned through, selecting based on immediate need:
**Fireball – 1,500 GC**
*Launches explosive projectile. MP Cost: 30. Attack Power: 15.*
**Fire Arrow – 800 GC**
*Rapid-fire magical projectile. MP Cost: 10. Attack Power: 5.*
**Air Arrow – 800 GC**
*Wind-based projectile. MP Cost: 10. Attack Power: 5.*
**Haste – 500 GC**
*Increases movement speed. MP Cost: 5 per meter.*
"Purchase all four."
"Right away, Boss!" More gold vanished. "Skills acquired! Would you like to test them?"
I raised my hand and focused on summoning a fireball.
Nothing happened.
"Why isn't it working?"
The system's ears flattened apologetically. "Ah, well, Boss… you need to complete level 1 affinity training first. The skills are installed in your system, but your body can't channel them yet without proper mana circulation development."
"And how do I develop that?" I asked, already knowing the answer would cost me.
"Meditation with mana stones! Only 100 gold coins for a fire mana stone! And another 100 for an air mana stone!"
I was beginning to suspect the system was running some kind of extortion racket, but I paid anyway. Two hundred gold coins vanished, and two small crystals appeared—one red, one pale blue, both pulsing with inner power.
"How long will this take?"
"Depends on your natural talent, Boss! Could be hours, could be days! But you seem like a quick learner!"
I settled onto my bed, holding both stones, and began meditating. I focused on feeling the mana within each stone, trying to sense how it flowed and moved, attempting to understand the patterns of power.
Hours passed. The manor grew quiet as night deepened. Servants finished their duties and retired. The children's laughter faded to silence. Outside my window, the moon rose and began its arc across the sky.
Gradually, I began to feel it—threads of power moving through the stones, following patterns I could almost but not quite understand. I pulled those threads toward myself, letting them flow into my body, circulating through channels I was only now becoming aware of.
The fire mana felt hot, aggressive, eager to consume and destroy. The air mana felt light, swift, ready to move and slice. I had to balance them, keep them separate but flowing, building pathways in my body that could handle both elements without conflict.
My affinity with fire mana grew stronger. Then air. The elements responded to my will more readily, more naturally.
The process was exhausting but also exhilarating. I could feel myself changing, becoming something more than purely human. Magic wasn't just an external force—it was becoming part of me, woven into my very being.
"Looking good, Boss!" the cat chirped at one point. "Your mana channels are developing nicely! At this rate, you'll be able to use basic spells by morning!"
I didn't respond, too focused on maintaining the delicate balance of energies flowing through me.
As I meditated, my mind drifted to the four hundred slaves in the hidden mine. Children as young as seven, working in darkness, knowing nothing but exploitation and pain.
They reminded me of myself at that age. Helpless, alone and dependent on the mercy of people who had none.
I'd survived through luck and ruthlessness. They'd survived through sheer endurance.
But they didn't need to just survive anymore. I'd make sure of that.
When Alfred knocked on my door, dawn light was streaming through the windows. I'd been meditating for nearly twelve hours straight.
"My lord! The soldier testing is about to begin!"
I stood, joints popping from sitting still so long. My body felt different—lighter somehow, more aware. I could sense the mana in the air around me, feel the potential for power at my fingertips.
I checked my status:
**[STATS]**
Name: EDWARD BROWN
Race: Human
Level: 1
Class: Mage
EXP: 0/300
Strength: 7
Agility: 10
Stamina: 9
Luck: 3
Mana Power (MP): 500/500
Health Points (HP): 100
**Skills:**
Fireball, Haste, Fire Arrow, Air Arrow
**Affinity:**
Fire Mana: Lv 2 (24/10,000)
Air Mana: Lv 2 (43/10,000)
**Gold Coins:** 172,300 GC
My physical stats had increased slightly from the training I'd been doing with Cecil. My mana pool had expanded dramatically from the meditation. And I could now actually use my purchased skills.
I raised my hand and focused. A small ball of fire materialized above my palm, crackling with energy.
I smiled. This was real power. Not political maneuvering or economic manipulation, but raw, direct force.
"Prepare the carriage," I told Alfred through the door. "And send a medical team to the northern hills immediately. Those four hundred people are our priority today."
"Already done, my lord. The doctors left an hour ago with food and supplies."
Good. Alfred was learning to anticipate my orders.
"Then let's see what our new soldiers can do."
I dismissed the fireball and prepared to face the day. Tonight, I'd clear monsters from the northern woods and gain real combat experience. But first, I needed to select soldiers who could help me survive the coming war.
**THE SOLDIER TESTING**
The village square was packed again, but this time with warriors rather than civilians. Four thousand people had shown up for the initial testing—a mix of former hunters, workers with farming strength, young men seeking adventure, and women defying social expectations.
I stood on the platform with Commander Cecil, observing the sea of hopeful faces. Most wouldn't make it. That was by design.
"Explain the tests," I told Cecil.
He stepped forward, his voice carrying across the square. "You will face three tests today! These tests are not meant to be easy—they are meant to identify those with the potential to become real soldiers!"
The crowd quieted, listening intently.
"Test One: Run 10 kilometres, within ninety minutes total. This tests your basic endurance and cardiovascular fitness. If you can't maintain this pace, you can't survive a forced march or extended battle."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Ten kilometers in ninety minutes wasn't impossible, but it would eliminate anyone who wasn't already in decent physical condition.
"Test Two: Run one thousand meters three times while carrying five kilograms of weight. This tests your strength-endurance and ability to function under load. Soldiers carry equipment, supplies, and wounded comrades. You must be able to move with weight."
More nervous muttering. Five kilograms didn't sound like much, but after the first test, it would feel like fifty.
"Test Three: Spar with me or one of my officers using wooden training weapons. This reveals your actual fighting ability, your courage, and your teachability. We don't expect you to win—we expect you to show us what you're capable of."
Cecil paused, scanning the crowd. "These tests are difficult. Many of you will fail. But failure today is not permanent—we will hold testing monthly. If you fail now, train and come back stronger. We need soldiers, not just bodies. Now let's begin!"
**TEST ONE: ENDURANCE**
The first test began immediately. Four thousand people started running the marked one-thousand-meter course. Within the first lap, the differences became obvious.
Former hunters and laborers who'd spent their lives moving maintained steady paces. Young men trying to impress started too fast and burned out. Women facing skeptical stares pushed harder to prove themselves.
By the fifth lap, people were dropping out in droves—vomiting, cramping, collapsing from exhaustion.
By the eighth lap, less than half remained.
By the tenth lap, only two thousand people crossed the finish line within the time limit.
I watched it all with cold assessment. Endurance was fundamental. Technique could be taught, but you couldn't teach someone to push through pain and fatigue if they didn't have that core determination.
"The rest are dismissed," Cecil announced. "You may try again next month."
Two thousand disappointed people filed out of the square, leaving two thousand exhausted but still-standing candidates.
**TEST TWO: STRENGTH-ENDURANCE**
Cecil's soldiers distributed weighted vests—crude but functional, five kilograms of sand in cloth pouches.
"Three laps!" Cecil shouted. "Forty-five minutes!"
This test was brutal specifically because it came immediately after the endurance run. Tired muscles, burning lungs, and now added weight.
I watched people's determination crack. Some tried to continue but physically couldn't. Others gave up mentally, the weight feeling impossible after the previous test.
A young woman—maybe nineteen, with the lean build of a hunter—caught my attention. She was struggling, clearly exhausted, but her face showed pure stubborn determination. Every step looked painful, but she kept moving.
She finished in forty-two minutes, one of the last to complete the test but within the time limit.
Another thousand people failed.
Maybe less than One thousand remained.
**TEST THREE: COMBAT ASSESSMENT**
When I arrived mid-morning to observe this portion, Cecil was conducting the sparring tests. Applicants faced him or one of his officers one-on-one with wooden training weapons—swords, spears, staffs, whatever they were most comfortable with.
Most lasted less than ten seconds. Cecil would disarm them with casual efficiency, assess their form and reactions, and either accept or dismiss them.
But some showed promise.
A former hunter moved with the fluid awareness of someone who'd stalked prey through forests. He lost, but his footwork was excellent.
A blacksmith's son had raw strength and surprising speed with a two-handed practice sword. No technique, but Cecil noted him as trainable.
Then came the young woman I'd noticed earlier—the one who'd pushed through the weighted run with pure determination.
She faced Cecil with a wooden staff, and within seconds, I could see she'd had actual training. Not formal military training, but someone had taught her the basics of staff combat.
She lasted a full minute against Cecil—dodging, blocking, using clever footwork to stay out of reach. She didn't win, obviously. Cecil was a veteran with decades of experience. But she forced him to actually try, to use real technique instead of just overwhelming her with superior skill.
Finally, Cecil swept her legs and put his practice sword to her throat. "Yield?"
"Yield," she gasped, breathing hard but grinning.
Cecil helped her up, actually looking impressed. "Where did you learn to fight?"
"My father was a hunter, sir. He taught me to use a staff to defend against bandits and wolves. He said a woman traveling alone needed to know how to protect herself."
"Your father was wise." Cecil turned to me. "My lord?"
I stepped forward. "Name?"
"Kara, my lord! Kara Stone!"
"You're accepted, Kara. Report for training tomorrow morning." I studied her for a moment. "And if you continue to show this level of determination, I'll make sure you receive proper combat instruction. We need more fighters with your instincts."
Her eyes widened. "Thank you, my lord! I won't disappoint you!"
"See that you don't. Next!"
The testing continued through the afternoon. Cecil and his officers evaluated hundreds of candidates, selecting those with potential over those with just raw strength or bravado.
A middle-aged man who'd been a caravan guard—experienced, disciplined, knew how to follow orders.
A pair of brothers who'd been miners—strong, tough, and used to dangerous work.
The young woman who'd struggled through the weighted run—not the most skilled, but her determination was exactly what we needed.
By evening, we'd selected four hundred people: thirty-five women and three hundred sixty-five men. They stood in rough formation, exhausted, bruised, but proud.
While the recruitment was going on, I asked Alfred to check everything for monster hunt.
It was the time for announcing results. Cecil and other officials decided to select only 400 peoples.
To be continued...