A short jaunt later, and I found myself at the training hall on campus. Like the simulator hall, it was large, but instead of the huge false dungeon set up, it was full of equipment for various kinds of physical training, from lifting weights to specialized mechanisms to aid in all forms of gaining strength. Somewhere, there was even a pool for water-related training.

  That would come in handy once the seasons changed to summer. Summers in Revenstahd tended towards hot and muggy, which I was not looking forward to. It's not hard to find excuses to cool off in the water training pool. It wasn't quite the same as cooling off by a river, lake, or the ocean. I had only been to the ocean a few times, but it was always a delight. I'd love to swim in the salty water sometime. I've heard rumors of dungeons on islands far out to sea, and the idea of getting to explore one in the future was appealing.

  I made my way into the locker room, quickly changed into something more suited to training, and headed out. It took some getting used to my training outfit, it being much for form fitting than my usual clothing, but I found it helped keep me cooler during the workouts. I still couldn't help but feel a bit embarrassed. Thankfully, most of my fellow students had the decorum not to stare.

  I had a few instances of ladies and gents try flirting with me, but I told them if they could beat me in a mock sword duel, then I'd consider it. No winners yet, I'm proud to say. Not to say there weren't some close calls, but I tend to have a bit of an unorthodox style. Part of me appreciated the thought behind their attentions, but I don't feel up to romance on top of everything I have to deal with right now.

  Besides, this is a place of personal improvement, not romance hunting. Though looking around, it seems that some didn't agree. No matter, as long as they left me alone with it. Nothing more annoying than trying to get to some weights, to have to navigate some doe-eyed lovers making vapid small talk at each other.

  The weapons training area was a simple affair, just some soft mats and racks filled with training versions of almost every melee weapon imaginable, as well as training shields of every size and shape.

  I did a variety of stretches, making sure all my muscles were good and loose before getting started. After this, I found something similar to my sword and began my routines.

  My sword style was a mix of bits and pieces I had learned from different sources. I had mostly learned from my elder sister and my brothers, but I also trained some with the house guards and various mercenaries, and wandering adventurers over the years. I even learned a few tricks from a farmer I met on my journey to Revenstahd.

  It was less a style or technique and more a toolbox of various moves that I had found worked for me. I had formulated most of my routines out of trial and more than a little error. I wasn't confident in a lot of it, if I was totally honest, but it had served me well, and most importantly, it put a lot of my opponents off balance.

  Many nobles, and even common soldiers for that matter, get stuff on one particular method of doing things, and learn counters based on that, whereas I mixed and matched. My sister had once said my fighting style was like "watching someone brawl with an oversized knife," and even though those were her words before abandoning my training to my brothers, I took them to heart and chose to consider it a compliment.

  My brother had taught me that besides technique, one of the real secrets of good swordsmanship was repetition. Do the movements of your strikes and blocks over and over again until they become second nature to you. Work until your muscles know what to do before your brain does. Once you've attained that strength, you could move on to things like technique and strategy along with everything else that came with the art.

  And I did just that. I tried to make a little time every single day I could to practice, but with my schedule being full of school and part-time work, I found myself slipping. It occurred to me that this is why so many knights were such splendid swordsmen. Outside of battles and other duties, they had nothing but time to train and practice. When that was what your life was dedicated to, one would hope you would be good at it.

  Being an adventurer, and a dungeoneer especially, was a world of having many skills, but no time to master any of them. You picked a general idea of specialty and worked on that, but true mastery? It was doubtful it would happen. Mages, knights, and their ilk had time and money to spend refining their abilities if they just had the will. Without those two things, you had to rely on luck and pure tenacity with a large helping of hard-earned experience to get by.

  Given that, it was appalling how much of the nobility wasted their time just getting fat and lazy, when they had so many more opportunities afforded to them. Their loss, I suppose. History wouldn't remember them, unkindly or not.

  I went through my forms, repeating the motions, fighting invisible foes, my mind focusing on the dangers of the previous week. The Goblins, the mimic, the wraiths, the Harbinger. I imagine them cut down by my blade, one after the other. It was a satisfying image, and definitely cathartic. I felt my frustration with myself, along with all my other worries, washing away with sweat and effort.

  I lost myself to the rhythm of the swings, thrusts, and strikes. My mind drifted from conscious worries and just focused on the task. It wasn't until the aching in my muscles hit a point I couldn't ignore anymore that my mind snapped back to the real world.

  I just then noticed that the training hall had begun filling up. I looked at the clock on the wall and noticed it was late afternoon now. Many students would come by the exercise after classes and their jobs. I didn't care much for working out with this much audience, and left to the locker room.

  I was disgusted by how much I had sweated, my workout clothes sticking to my body. I pulled the clothes off and went over to the laundry station. Dungeon School had a service, where if you put your gym clothes in a bag with your name and room number on it, they would get it cleaned and send it to your room when they were done. Usually it was done by morning, so it was very convenient.

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  I decided to throw my underwear in for good measure and headed into the showers to get all the sweat off me. The hot water felt good on my sore muscles, and I could feel the exhaustion wash away. I could have stayed there all night, but I had other things to do before I wrap up my day and get some sleep. I had my side job in the morning.

  As I came out of the shower, dried off, and with a towel wrapped around me, I noticed Smitty trotting in, soaked head to tail and dripping all over the floor. I hated to admit it, but she looked sad and pathetic when she was drenched like that. I raised my hand to greet her and was immediately pelted with a shower of water as she shook herself dry.

  "Really, Smitty?" I groaned as I spat the water that made it into my mouth. I wanted to be mad at her, but the fact that her fur made her look like a puffed-up snowball was too comical to harbor too much anger towards the kobold.

  "Sorry friend Alta, yes yes! Is habit I have trouble breaking." She made what I assumed was an apologetic expression. I really had to figure out kobold body language. I realized I was making a ridiculous number of assumptions about her mood.

  "It is what it is, I suppose." I sighed and proceeded to dry myself off yet again. "Water training today?"

  "Yes! Wanted to try fighting with shield and spear underwater. Is very tricking. Hard to move as it is, but shield makes it even harder. Might need to learn new techniques to make up for it. Maybe new shield? Unsure." She explained as she toweled herself off, and while I dressed.

  I cursed myself for not packing extra underwear. I hadn't considered I'd sweat as much as I did. I don't care for the idea of running across to the dorms in just my overclothes, but I hated the idea of wearing sweaty underclothes more. Doing that was a good way to get sick, I had always been told. I just had to be careful and prayed for a lack of rambunctious winds tonight.

  I finished dressing, and as I tied my hair up, I turned back to Smitty.

  "We should consider a time to water train as a group. I know submerged dungeons aren't common, but its better to be prepared." I said as I completed my ponytail. Not only a good bonding and training exercise, but it might be fun to spend time in the pool with friends. Comrades. Associates. Whatever.

  "Yes yes, agreed. But is conversation for another day. I need to eat many much meats, yes." She huffed with her tongue hanging out, which I had learned was the Kobold equivalent of laughing.

  My stomach rumbled. Her talk of meat and the sudden realization I hadn't eaten nearly enough today for the exertions I had inflicted on myself made the decision of my next course of action clear.

  Meal time!

  -

  Late afternoon turned into evening, one clothing change at the dorm, and a trip to the cafeteria later, my stomach was full of tasty meat and potato stew, much better than the cafeteria's usual repast. My muscles were still feeling fatigue,d and I was beginning to regret my decision to hold off on magic training till this evening. I was admittedly not the biggest fan of it.

  Magic training was done in a little offshoot room of the cleaning facilities. It was dark, quiet, and smelled of some kind of incense. I was happy not to be the only one there, as the mana flow session hadn't started yet.

  Mana flow sessions were an essential training method for magic users of any level. The idea of it was to sit quietly, focus on channeling your mana in a small mote of light, while drawing in mana to replace it, and trying to maintain this cycle as long as possible. There was no way to fully top yourself back up; it was just the nature of a Mortal body, but you could train to make the draining go slower. It was like a metaphysical muscle.

  For me, it was a lot like taking breaths. Breathe in the external mana, exhale the internal. Focus the internal into a ball, pull the external into a reservoir inside you. Turning the internal mana into a ball of soft light was the easiest way of doing it, though many chose other things, such as water balls, fire motes, etc. Light was encouraged as there was less likelihood of accidents with light balls than with any other spell effect.

  Sessions like this were guided events. Often, the one doing the guiding would tell us when to draw in, and push out. It was repetitious, and the exhaustion of the day, plus the dark quiet and the calming scents, were conspiring against me.

  One thing that didn't help me was that, while I found the ability to harness my mana better, these sessions always deeply bored me. Sword training, through repetition, I could put myself in a headspace where I could pretend I was fighting a powerful foe, I could focus my anger and frustrations. Here, I had to sit with my mind in silence. I found it dull, and I found myself drifting off to sleep repeatedly. I had no idea how Myth put up with this so often.

  As a full time magic user, she did these nightly, where as I maybe could bring myself to do this once a week. I suppose thats often why her spells were more effective than my own. All my spell work focused on enhancing my blade, which I felt was fitting as a sword-witch, but hers could effect the body itself, not just healing, but enhancing as well.

  Different kinds of magic, I supposed, required different mindsets. That said, both of us benefitted from mana flow improvement. I just hated to do it, and she seemed to love it.

  I had to keep reminding myself it was important in improving as a sword-witch. When I had more control over my mana, I could use less incantations to focus my mind on what I was trying to do, saving time and energy in a battle. Time and energy saved on magic meant more time and energy could be dedicated to stabbing monsters and ruffians.

  I kept trying to maintain the rhythm of the exercise, but I must have failed, as the next thing I knew, there was Myth, gently shaking me awake.

  "Wassah?" I mumbled, noticing a line of drool running from the corner of my mouth, which I wiped away with my arm. I think I dreamed something, something dark, but the memory of it fled from my mind immediately.

  "C'mon sleepy ears, lets get you to bed." She helped me to my feet.

  I shook my head clear and rubbed my eyes. I had perhaps over done it.

  "Thank you, Myth. I have no idea how you can stay awake during these things." I muttered, my brain and mouth still trying to restart themselves, an endeavor that made my speech a bit garbled.

  She patted my back, and smiled at me. "It takes practice. When I first started doing these sessions, I used it as a good way to get a nap in. Found after awhile it helped me manage my anxiety a bit. The herbs help better, but I can't be high all the time. The dungeon scared that right truth right into me!"

  I was glad to hear her say that. We all had to find our own motivations to improve, and I was happy that she found hers. Also it meant I likely wouldn't be smelling those herbs as much. I hated that smell so much, and it took a lot of willpower not to say anything.

  We made our way back to our room and after some half-hearted greetings to everyone, though noting that, as per usual, Cori was still absent. One day, I'd have to ask what made her get up so early and so late to return. I know it was rude to pry, but my curiosity was getting the better of me.

  As soon as my head hit my pillow, I felt the soft pull of sleep take me.