Painful Lessons and an Unexpected Guest
Early morning, the peaceful hour when the day unfurls.
Fresh morning air mingled with the unpleasant thwack-thwack of impacts.
"Your attacks are too predictable."
"Guhk."
"At least try mixing it up from different angles."
"Easy for you to say... ugh!"
"If you have the energy to yap, then move your body!"
It was nothing less than a beating disguised as practical combat training.
This was the new regimen with Gente, ramped up just a few days ago.
Attack from the left, get countered. From the right, same story.
The moment I thought I'd spotted an opening, he'd evade with the bare minimum motion and ram in a solid hit anyway.
It hurt plenty where he struck, but the real frustration was not landing a single proper blow.
How the hell does an eighty-year-old pull this off?
Is he seriously not some monster wearing a human face?
"Hey... what're you doing? Your body's gone stiff."
"If I don't attack, I won't get counter-hit, right?"
"Hmph."
"Tch...!"
Standing there frozen in a standoff, I earned a whack to the head from his wooden sword, as if that pissed him off even more.
"If you're training me because I can use magic, shouldn't there be something better than this stamina drill...?"
I rubbed the spot next to the throbbing bump from the wooden sword.
Taking a seat on the ground during the break, I vented my complaints.
Gente had started drilling me in earnest once he confirmed I could use magic.
But instead of magic training, it was endless stamina work, and now he was teaching me swordplay under the guise of "real combat."
What the hell did those two even have to do with each other?
I slumped my shoulders and asked flatly, utterly baffled. Gente continued.
"I told you, handle the magic yourself."
"Even so..."
His attitude was still totally hands-off when it came to magic.
Feeling a bit duped, I spread my legs, propped my elbows on my knees, and rested my chin in my hands.
As I sat there with a dissatisfied look, Gente suddenly plopped down beside me and asked out of the blue.
"You one of those idiots who thinks mages don't need stamina?"
"Huh? Well... they don't need it as much as sword-and-shield types, do they?"
Scratching the back of my head, I blurted out the first simplistic thing that came to mind.
Truth be told, I'd never really thought deeply about it.
Mage? Instant image: high intelligence.
Thin cloth robes for armor, staff or spellbook as a weapon.
You know, like in every game.
That stereotype had me assuming stamina wasn't a big deal.
"Haaauuuugh..."
Gente let out a long, exasperated sigh that screamed pity and disbelief.
It dragged on so long, even I could tell he thought I was a moron.
"It's the exact opposite, you fool."
With that sincere rebuke came the explanation of why mages needed stamina.
"Everywhere you go, there are fools who lean on the mystery of magic and neglect their bodies. But no matter what you wield, if you're out in the field, stamina is essential."
Not every path is wide enough for a carriage.
Sometimes you hike for over a week, through rugged mountains or swamps.
On journeys like that, there's no exception for mages to slack on fitness.
They wear practical armor prioritizing defense, not flimsy cloth rags.
Plus, focus is part of stamina too.
Can you cast properly after sprinting full-tilt, gasping for air with blurred vision?
The answer: no.
"For a mage, every spell is both an opportunity and their most vulnerable moment. Don't think half-assed stamina will cut it."
Gente wasn't a mage himself, but he knew what mages needed most.
"Mages are like master archers who zero in on that one chance—even staggering through wounds, even if their limbs feel like they're falling off, even if they actually do. They focus and seize it."
A master archer waiting for that single shot.
That was Gente's view of a true mage.
"The ones who underestimate stamina die first."
"I get what you're saying, but... so?"
It sounded good—real quotable stuff.
Practical advice, sure, but I couldn't shake one question.
"How does that connect to getting whacked with a sword?"
"The more ways you have to resist, the better. Mages have a rep for being weak up close."
Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh. Still seated, Gente twirled his wooden sword with eerie precision, slicing the air.
In other words: mages are weak in close quarters, so surprise them and turn it against them.
Simple, but solid. Though I wondered if half-assing both sides would beat someone who'd mastered one.
As those stray thoughts killed time, Gente stood first and tapped my shoulder with his sword.
"Rest's over. Up. We're not done."
"Ugh..."
It throbbed.
Pain resonated through my body at the signal.
'My body fears him now...'
Reluctantly, I rose for three more hours of beatings.
A long haul until today's training finally ended.
'It hurts...'
Just minutes after leaving Gente's house.
I kneaded the sore spots, writhing to ease the pain even a little.
Walking off the aches, I noticed something odd: every hit spot was bruise-free, skin pristine.
I'd heard of "pain without marks" experts...
Gente must be one.
Today, I decided to head straight home—no detours.
"What do adventurers usually do?"
"Hunt monsters, run errands... that kinda thing."
"No unexplored ruins or anything?"
"That's tough for low ranks."
Heading straight home, I found Balen and Hailey chatting casually.
They'd had a huge fight at first meeting, so not as chummy as before, but this was fine.
Like distant coworkers, but everyday talk was progress enough.
They do their thing; I'll do mine.
I tossed a casual question their way.
"Gonna wash up and prep dinner. Anything you want?"
"Not really..."
"Uncle! Uncle! That thing!"
Hailey was about to say whatever, but Balen lit up explosively.
Bouncing in her chair like a spring, pure excitement anyone could see.
Clueless on the dish, I tilted my head.
"'That thing'? No idea. Can't do anything tricky."
"You know! That one from when I was little!"
"Meat in bread?"
"Yes! That!"
Most familiar kid-food I'd made: otherworld-style sandwich. Nailed it.
"She wants that. Cool with you, Hailey?"
"If Uncle makes it, anything's fine."
Checking with Hailey got the okay.
If the homeowner's good, no need to hesitate.
"Alright. Wash up, then I'll grab ingredients."
"Yay! Been craving it!"
Balen cheered at "wash and shop."
All that fuss over cheap bread and meat.
Her over-the-top reaction made me chuckle unwittingly as I grabbed clean clothes for the bath.
Scrubbed off the sweat with hot water, emerged fresh, prepped to head out.
Pocketing coins, changing—then noticed them grabbing clothes too.
Didn't I just say I'd shop for dinner ingredients?
Where to at this hour?
The question slipped out.
"Dinner soon. Where you headed?"
"We're coming too."
"Uncle drags trouble everywhere!"
They finished gearing up, insisting on tagging along.
Trouble-magnet? Not that bad.
Recalling events since arriving:
'Trouble here...'
Grabbed by guards on the street.
Restaurant stop, gut-punched by Gente.
Bumped a woman, scraped my hand.
Magic practice, accidentally hit Shane.
New magic tool test, caught by Balen.
'More than I thought...'
Couldn't deny it. Swallowed my retort.
Somehow, grocery run turned into a trio outing—me sandwiched in the middle.
Flanked by young girls, guys' stares stung.
Mid-stroll...
We ran into someone awkward.
"Oh."
"Ah."
Sepi, dead drunk and passed out last time.
Awkward exclamations overlapped.
"Sis!"
"Hello."
Balen high-energy as always; Hailey bowed calmly.
"H-Hi... there."
Caught off-guard, Sepi avoided eye contact, head down.
She showed clear hostility to me, but undecided on Hailey—fidgeting.
"Grabbing dinner stuff?"
"Not yet..."
Balen chatted friendly, ignoring her sister's fluster.
Sepi seemed out shopping too—empty paper bag in hand.
Balen's eyes sparkled with an idea.
"Not yet? Join us then, Sis! Uncle cooks great!"
Out of nowhere, hyping my cooking, inviting her without Hailey's say-so.
"What? But..."
"Hailey! Cool, right?"
"If Uncle's okay..."
Sepi startled; Balen bulldozed Hailey.
Hailey punted to me.
Considering the cook's side, but couldn't nix it in this vibe.
Awkward for both sides, but morally? This was right.
"I'm fine... with it."
"R-Really? Then... I guess I could."
Post-decision, awkward air settled.
Tonight's dinner won't be easy.