After completing the mana circulation session, we were given a short break to eat at the cafeteria. Once again, all 150 first-year candidates reconvened—and I finally spotted Miles and Douglas. With them were two new faces—Harper and Liam.
It looked like they'd made some friends.
Harper was a bit shorter than me—about Miles' height. Not surprising. We're all just sixteen, and I'm already around 181 cm, bound to break six feet soon. Miles was closer to 172 cm, while Douglas and Liam seemed to hover around 181 cm like me. Honestly, tall for sixteen. Then again, most Awakened shot up in height after awakening. Out of everyone here, I'd only seen maybe fifteen people under five feet—including girls.
Harper had a mop of bright red hair and piercing black eyes. Liam was a dirty blonde, with sharp green eyes that made him look constantly alert. Both seemed friendly enough, and conversation came easy.
The topic? Our running speeds.
I casually mentioned mine—and their reactions ranged from surprise to sympathy. Miles and Douglas, knowing a bit of my situation already, weren't too shocked.
Miles clocked in at 44 km/h, making him the fastest among us.
Douglas managed 37 km/h.
Harper hit 39 km/h.
Liam came in at 32 km/h.
When the conversation shifted to mana circulation, things got interesting. They explained that while they managed to get the hang of it, things got messy after casting just one or two Refresh spells. Most ran out of mana quickly.
Apparently, the process of learning to circulate mana caused a lot of early leakage. By the time they cast Refresh properly, their reserves were nearly drained. The spell cost 10 MP per cast, and even after burning themselves dry, their soreness lingered.
It seemed everyone had their strengths. I, on the other hand, hadn't experienced any mana loss at all. I grasped the flow quickly and efficiently—likely thanks to Immersion. Maybe it was something else, but either way, I wasn't about to question it. Better to wait and see how things played out.
After the 30-minute break, we split again into our groups. As I suspected, roommates weren't grouped together—it wasn't random, either. I followed my group back to the wide open field encircled by the running track. Waiting there were our instructors—and something new.
Crates of weapons.
Lined up neatly were swords of every length, axes, lances, polearms, whips, and more. Training dummies—mana dolls shaped like scarecrows—stood scattered across the track.
We received a rundown of fundamental combat skills: stances, hooks, grapples, footwork, and proper weapon handling. Everyone started with swords, instructors correcting our postures as we rotated through weapons. Two others observed us, making notes as we tried different styles.
We even took turns with bows. While I was average with most weapons, something clicked the moment I picked one up.
I didn't plan to become a ranged fighter, but… it felt good to be decent at something.
After an hour of drills, we moved into hand-to-hand combat. Simple moves, simple replications. Thirty minutes later, they called us in for a final briefing.
Today had only been the introduction. Starting tomorrow, training would be evaluated against four key goals:
Maintain an average speed of 45 km/h during the three -hour marathon.
Acquire Mana Circulation (and optionally Mana Control).
Gain at least one Basic Combat Proficiency (weapon or hand-to-hand).
Defeat a mana doll in under five minutes.
We wouldn't face the dolls yet— our first chance would be at the end of the weak, once we had the basics.
From tomorrow onward, the daily schedule would look like this:
5 AM – 8AM: Marathon
9 AM – 1 PM: Lectures (mandatory)
1 PM – 3 PM: Combat Training
4 PM – 6 PM: Mana Circulation Practice
Lectures were compulsory. Training wasn't—at least not formally. Still, the instructors strongly recommended at least one session a day.
Before dismissal, they sent personalized lists to our terminal watches. Weapons were ranked based on how well we performed.
The top weapon on my list?
The bow.
I stared at the glowing word for a long moment.
Well… it's something. At least I'm good at something.