The stale scent of ale and pipe smoke still clung to me, but a new kind of energy pulsed beneath my skin. My body, now an Apprentice-level Sword Knight, felt sharper, more responsive. The D-tier techniques were ingrained, ready to be called upon with a thought. My training with Herald had been brutal, effective, and utterly transformative.
I pushed myself up from the rough cot, my muscles protesting the lack of a soft mattress. The morning light, dull and gray, barely penetrated the grimy window. My first thought, as always, was of training. Herald's relentless regimen had ingrained itself into my very being. The commoner's exam loomed, a tangible deadline in a world where time often felt fluid and unpredictable.
