The morning sun crept over Ark Academy like a golden tide, warming the iron-rich stone paths and coaxing mist from the grass. Arin stood near the boundary of the training grounds, the hem of his uniform fluttering gently in the breeze, his eyes scanning the organized chaos that sprawled before him. The air was a cocktail of sweat, mana, and steel, sharpened by the barking voices of three instructors who patrolled the field like hawks, correcting stances and shouting adjustments mid-duel.
Students trained in clustered formations or sparred one-on-one. Spells sparked, weapons clashed, and elemental sigils flickered in the air. Arin watched it all quietly, hands in his pockets, mind ticking. He wasn't looking for flaws or tactics. Just soaking it in. Rhythm, flow, form—the dance of effort turned instinct.
"Yo, newbie." The voice was smooth, casual, with just enough arrogance to suggest self-importance.
A tall boy in maroon robes approached, the distinctive insignia of the Crimson Star Guild stitched over his heart—a seven-pointed star encircled by runic fire. He had sharp cheekbones, slicked-back hair, and the confident posture of someone used to getting what they wanted.
"I'm Cedric," he said, extending a hand. "B-rank division. We've been watching you. You're interesting."
Arin raised a brow, shaking the offered hand briefly. "Watching me? I've barely trained outside the library."
Cedric smirked. "Exactly. And yet your assessment scores… impressive. I'm recruiting support talents for my reserve team. You'd fit."
"I appreciate the offer," Arin replied, his voice polite but firm. "But I prefer walking my own road. At least, for now."
Cedric studied him a moment longer, then chuckled, backing off. "Suit yourself. Just know the door's open when you change your mind."
He disappeared into the crowds, leaving a faint trail of prestige and perfume behind. Arin turned his gaze back to the field, exhaling slowly. "That was… weird."
He spotted Kaela and Rei near the rear edge of the training ground. Kaela's shield glinted as she adjusted her stance, while Rei, with his absurdly large Greatsword, sent shockwaves through the air as he practiced wide, heavy swings with precise control.
Arin approached them quietly, waiting for a break in their movement.
"Oi! Took your sweet time!" Kaela's voice rang out like a war horn.
She stood in a sunbeam like some heroic painting come to life. Her Shield Guardian armor gleamed with polished discipline, and her circular shield looked like it could absorb a meteor.
"Didn't oversleep, did you?" Rei added with a sly grin, resting his Greatsword against his shoulder. The Light Knight aura around him shimmered subtly, radiant and serene—a controlled blaze wrapped in silk.
Arin lifted a hand in greeting. "Nah. Just lost track of time reading about mana flow dynamics."
Kaela blinked. "You lost track of time… studying?"
"It was a page-turner," Arin said with complete sincerity.
Rei snorted. "Only you, Arin. Only you."
As they laughed, Arin looked around. "Anyway, I need to get some real training in. No more theory. Time to get my hands dirty."
He left them with a wave and walked toward the weapon racks. Dozens of choices gleamed under the sun—blades, staves, axes, even exotic options like chakrams and meteor hammers. But his eyes locked onto a heavy longbow resting against the back, its limbs reinforced with ironwood and dragon sinew threading. Practical. Sturdy. Deadly.
He slung it over his shoulder and made his way to one of the instructors, a wiry man with greying hair tied back in a warrior's knot.
"Sir," Arin said respectfully, "Could you demonstrate the basics of bow handling to their fullest? I've… never used one before."
The instructor looked surprised. "Most students already come with some foundation. You telling me you've never even held one?"
Arin nodded. "Correct. I never had the chance. But I can promise you—I retain what I learn. Movements, forms… they stick."
The instructor studied him for a beat longer, then gave a slow nod. "Alright. Let's see what your brain's worth."
He launched into demonstration—stance, grip, drawing technique, breath control, target tracking. He shifted between static targets and moving ones, then added dodging into the mix. It was a masterclass of fundamentals, peppered with efficiency and economy of motion.
Arin watched intently, burning every motion into his mind.
"I am not afraid of your thousands of techniques that you have practiced once," the instructor muttered as he loosed an arrow mid-roll, "but I am afraid of your one technique that you have practiced thousands of times."
Arin's lips curled slightly.
That doesn't really apply to me, he thought. Seeing and doing it once—after understanding it a bit—is like I've practiced it a million times. For me, mastery is like wielding a weapon, following the rhythms of others, and merging them into my own technique.
When the instructor handed him the bow and said, "Your turn," Arin didn't hesitate.
His first shot hit dead center.
So did the next five.
The instructor blinked. "Alright then. Let's crank it up."
They moved to moving targets. Arin copied every movement, incorporating the dodges, the fluid adjustments of footing, even the subtle rotation of the core mid-draw. His arrows sang through the air, gliding with grace and impact.
The day blurred. Time vanished. Arin didn't stop. He practiced again and again, following the same drills. Stationary shots. Moving targets. Dodging while shooting. Jump shots. Reflex tests. He fired over thousands of arrows before lunch and only paused because Kaela dragged him bodily toward the cafeteria.
"You're insane," she said, handing him water. "Normal people train, Arin. You're recreating military-grade doctrine in a day."
He shrugged. "It feels natural. Like breathing."
By afternoon, Arin began experimenting. He chaneled a trace of mana into a hardened training arrow—something almost no first-year could manage. The mana clung like syrup to the shaft, hardening it, subtly vibrating.
When the arrow hit a target dummy, it cracked the reinforced wood.
The training grounds fell silent.
Even second-years paused mid-practice to stare.
Arin loosed another. Another crack.
A third. Boom. The target exploded in splinters.
The instructor shouted, "Eyes forward! Back to your drills!"
But he looked at Arin with something between confusion and awe.
He's not like the others… he's something else.
As the sun dipped low and shadows stretched across the training grounds, Arin stood with the heavy bow still in hand. He exhaled softly—not out of weariness, but in focus. His limbs should've been trembling from over ten thousand shots, countless repetitions, and the mana manipulations. But they weren't.
His body was light. Sharper. Clearer.
Arcane Frame had done its silent work, adjusting to the exertion, regulating tension in his muscles, redirecting excess mana waste, and evolving his resilience. What should've been crippling fatigue became refined awareness.
Arin rolled his shoulders. He didn't feel tired. He felt honed.
Kaela and Rei approached him near the exit, both visibly worn from the day's exertions, yet grinning like fools.
"You broke dummies," Rei said, half-laughing. "With training arrows. Are we even training in the same place?"
Kaela jabbed a finger at him. "Your body's not even twitching. What kind of freak doesn't feel sore after all that?"
Arin smiled, eyes distant but amused. "Let's just say… my frame adjusts well to pressure."
"Understatement of the year," Rei muttered.
They walked together, the three of them bathed in orange light and camaraderie.
That night, Arin lay on his bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling. His mind drifted—not to fatigue, but to patterns. Mana webs. Trajectories. The subtle rhythm of movement and focus.
He thought back to the moment he'd awoken in this world. No allies. No past to rely on. Just instinct, knowledge, and something deep in his soul that refused to kneel.
I have no master. No god. No faction. But I will stand above them all. Every race. Every Guardian. Every throne.
He shut his eyes with the calm clarity of someone who had made a decision.
Tomorrow, he would train with the spear.
Not because he needed to learn it. But because it was time the spear learned him.