I woke up to the soft glow of morning light filtering through my curtains.
Saturday. Finally.
The clock read 7:30 AM—early enough to feel productive, late enough to feel human. My archery session in the Simulation Room wasn't until nine, which gave me plenty of time to eat, freshen up, and clear my head.
I threw together a light breakfast—oats, fruit, and a bit of mana tea—and ate by the window. The quiet hum of the campus outside felt almost surreal after the chaos of the week. Training, classes, spellcasting drills—it all blurred together. But today would be different. Today, we'd finally test ourselves in the simulated field.
The shower helped ease the lingering stiffness in my shoulders. By the time I dressed and headed out, my mind was sharp, focused. The walk to the training hall was calm, the morning air crisp and cool. Most students were still asleep, their dorm lights dimmed, the academy unusually silent.
The Simulation Room was buried beneath the Stadium, deep enough to feel like a different world entirely. When I arrived, the steel doors were still locked. James was already there, leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed. His twin daggers hung at his waist, though today, they'd be useless.
"Morning," I greeted.
He tilted his head lazily. "Yo. You ready to get your butt handed to you by a bunch of fake monsters?"
I smirked. "You mean holographic monsters. Big difference."
"Same outcome," he said with a grin.
We spent the next few minutes debating how the simulation worked—mana illusions with tactile fields, spatial warping, elemental resonance—half theory, half nonsense. Still, it helped ease the nerves.
At exactly 8:55, the instructor arrived, flanked by Natasha. She was punctual as always, her lance case slung neatly across her back. Her uniform looked freshly pressed, not a wrinkle in sight.
"Morning, cadets," the instructor greeted briskly as he unlocked the door. "You'll be testing the new feedback vests today. Once you're hit enough times, the system marks you as incapacitated. Don't get any heroic ideas."
He handed us each a sleek black vest with fitted armbands and leg straps. The material hummed faintly with mana as I adjusted the fit. Natasha checked the buckles on hers twice before nodding in approval.
James tapped his chest piece. "So, if something hits us, we actually feel it?"
"Precisely," the instructor said. "Knockback, impact pressure, fatigue—all simulated based on severity. If your body takes too much 'damage,' the system ends your run."
I couldn't help but whistle. "Sounds like fun."
He handed each of us a quiver filled with tipless training bolts and a standard bow. "Only hits registered through mana bolts count as damage. Precision and control are what matter here, not brute force."
"Who's first?" the instructor asked.
James grinned, stepping forward before anyone else could answer. "I'll take point."
"Of course you will," Natasha muttered, smirking faintly.
He shrugged. "Hey, someone's gotta set the bar."
James followed the instructor into the chamber while Natasha and I entered the adjacent viewing room. A large, curved mana screen flickered to life, showing James from a third-person view as the simulation initialized.
The plain metallic floor around him rippled like liquid, reforming into dense woodland. Trees rose from nothing. Mist rolled across the underbrush. Within seconds, a virtual forest surrounded him completely.
James crouched low, moving like a hunter. His motions were smooth, calculated—his instincts kicking in. Ahead, a trio of goblins crept through the trees, small and wiry, their guttural chatter echoing faintly.
Without hesitation, James drew, aimed, and fired. Three bolts. Three kills. Silent. Efficient.
"Still showing off," Natasha said under her breath.
"He's consistent," I replied. "I'll give him that."
He moved again, sweeping through the forest like he'd done this a hundred times before. He used elevation, terrain, shadows—always one step ahead. When a group of scouts appeared near a clearing, he took them out before they could blink.
Minutes passed. Then, the camera panned to a goblin camp—makeshift huts, bonfires, crude weapons scattered around. James didn't rush in. Instead, he scaled a tree, steadying his breath.
"Smart," Natasha murmured.
We watched as he condensed mana along the arrow shaft, coating it with fire affinity. Then he released. Mid-flight, the arrow split into three—Elemental Scatter Shot. Flames erupted across the camp as goblins shrieked in panic.
Four larger figures emerged through the smoke—a trio of warriors and a champion wielding a jagged, obsidian-like blade. The creature roared, veins glowing faintly red.
James drew again, mana swirling at his fingertips. One shot hit the champion square in the skull—it stumbled but didn't fall. Another bolt. Another hit. The beast charged.
"Come on, finish it," Natasha whispered.
James adjusted his stance, breathing out slowly. Then—twang. The next bolt curved midair, snapping into the goblin's throat. A clean, decisive hit.
He picked off the remaining warriors in seconds, curving his arrows through the smoke. The camp went silent.
The simulation froze, the illusionary forest fading back into metallic gray. James stood there, panting slightly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
The door hissed open.
"Your turn," the instructor said, looking directly at me.
I stepped forward, tightening the straps on my arms and chest. The vest vibrated softly, syncing with my mana flow. I took a deep breath, centering myself.
Natasha crossed her arms. "Don't overthink it, Will. Trust your aim."
James gave me a thumbs-up as he passed by. "Just don't miss."
I rolled my eyes. "You're hilarious."
He laughed, clapping my shoulder. "See you on the other side."
As the door sealed behind me, I found myself standing in the center of the metallic chamber. My pulse steadied. Mana stirred faintly beneath my skin.
The floor shimmered—and the world changed.
Trees rose. Wind whispered. Sunlight pierced through dense canopy.
The simulation had begun.
Let's see what this world has in store for me.