Chapter 8: The First Real Training – No More Easy Rewards
The next morning hit different.
No warm breasts pressing against my back. No tails curling around my legs. No gentle hands waking me with oil or milk. Just a sharp knock on the door of the small annex room they'd assigned me, followed by Mira's voice booming through the wood.
"Up, boy. Dawn patrol starts in twenty. Wear the training gear the attendants left. No excuses."
I groaned, rolling over on the thin futon. My body ached—not the good ache from yesterday's sessions, but the dull, heavy kind that came from too much magic milk and zero actual rest. Every muscle felt like it had been stretched and then left to snap back wrong.
On the low table sat a pile of rough clothes: sturdy linen pants, a sleeveless tunic reinforced with leather straps, fingerless gloves, and boots that looked like they'd seen better days. No armor. No sword. Just beginner shit.
I dressed slowly, wincing as the fabric scraped over sensitive skin. My cock, for once, stayed soft—too exhausted to care about anything right now. Small mercy.
Mira waited outside in full plate, arms crossed. She looked me up and down.
"You look like shit. Good. Means yesterday actually did something. Follow."
We didn't go back to the woods. Instead she led me to a walled training yard behind the temple—sand-packed dirt, wooden dummies scarred from years of abuse, racks of practice weapons, and a few low stone benches. A handful of other women were already there: mostly human and beastkin, all mature, all built like they could bench-press me without breaking a sweat. They glanced over, whispered, then went back to their drills.
Mira tossed me a wooden sword—short, blunt, heavier than it looked.
"Basics first. Stance. Grip. Footwork. No fancy moves. No magic. Just don't fall on your ass."
She demonstrated: feet shoulder-width, knees bent, sword held in both hands at a slight angle in front of the body. Simple. Solid.
I copied her. Or tried to.
My stance wobbled the second she poked my shoulder with the flat of her blade. I stumbled sideways.
"Again."
I reset. She poked harder. I staggered.
"Again."
By the tenth time my legs were shaking. Sweat dripped into my eyes. The wooden sword felt like it weighed twenty pounds.
"Pathetic," she said, not unkindly. "But expected. You're soft, Alex. Earth boys don't train like this. So we fix it."
She made me run laps around the yard—barefoot at first because "boots are for people who earn them." My lungs burned after three. I puked behind a dummy after seven. Mira just waited, arms crossed.
"Water. Then back to stance."
I wanted to quit. The thought flashed bright and hot: I'm not a hero. I'm a virgin loser who got isekai'd because I jerked off too much. I can't do this.
But then I remembered Lira's proud smile when I lasted longer. Yumi's soft "good boy" after I held out through all nine tails. Sylvara's gentle forehead kiss.
They believed in me. Or at least they believed in what my cum could do for them.
I couldn't let them down.
So I stood back up. Wiped my mouth. Reset my stance.
Mira's eyes narrowed slightly. Almost… approval?
We drilled until noon. Stance. Footwork. Basic slashes—overhead, diagonal, thrust. Every time I dropped my guard she tapped me—hard enough to bruise. Every time my form slipped she made me start the set over.
By the time the sun was high I could barely lift the sword. My arms trembled. Blisters bloomed on my palms.
Mira finally called it.
"Enough for today. Eat. Sleep. Tomorrow we add weight."
She tossed me a waterskin and a wrapped bundle—plain bread, dried meat, an apple. No fancy temple feast. Just calories.
I collapsed on a bench, tore into the food like an animal. Only when I finished did I notice the tiny blue window hovering in my vision:
[Physical Training Session 1 Complete][Strength +0.3 | Endurance +0.4 | Agility +0.1][Current Level: 1 (0/100 EXP)][Weakness Noted: Low Stamina Recovery – Extended rest required after exertion]
No massive jump. No glowing power-up. Just tiny numbers. But they were there. Proof I wasn't completely useless.
That night I slept like the dead—no dreams, no midnight hard-ons. Just black.