Kingdom of Verdwryn

The six months of relentless training had shaped Michael into something new. The boy reborn into this world was gone; in his place stood a soldier, tempered by fire, determination, and ingenuity. His days had been consumed by rigorous drills, ceaseless sparring, and countless nights honing his cultivation method. Now, standing on the threshold of war, he was not just a recruit—he was a level-one mage and knight, a balance of magic and martial prowess that he had meticulously crafted.

Michael stood in the training yard, Verdant Blade in hand, the living weapon humming faintly with latent energy. Around him, remnants of shattered dummies and scorched earth told the story of his progress. Captain Garren watched from a distance, his arms crossed, a faint smirk on his face.

"Boy," Garren called, his voice sharp. "Show me what you've got. You've been impressing the other recruits, but let's see how well you fare against me."

Michael stiffened, then nodded. This was the test he had been preparing for—the test that truly mattered.

Michael stepped onto the sparring field, scanning the terrain instinctively. He adjusted his stance, Verdant Blade held low but ready. Garren strode forward, his armored boots crunching against the dirt. Unlike Michael, Garren carried no visible weapon, his confidence unshaken.

"Rules are simple," Garren said. "You're allowed to use everything at your disposal—magic, traps, whatever you've concocted in that clever head of yours. I'll use only my fists. Let's see if you can land a single blow."

Michael's eyes narrowed. A single blow? It sounded simple, but he knew better. Garren wasn't a captain for nothing.

Michael raised his hand, channeling his mana into the ground. The soil shifted subtly, vines and roots burrowing just beneath the surface. Seeded Battlefield activated.

"This is your playground, boy," Garren taunted, rolling his shoulders. "Show me what you've learned."

Michael didn't respond. Instead, he took a cautious step back and released Nature's Pulse, a faint magical echo that mapped Garren's movements.

Garren darted forward, faster than Michael anticipated. He was a blur of motion, closing the distance in an instant. Michael dodged, activating Shifting Step to propel himself to the side. Garren's fist slammed into the ground where Michael had been standing, sending a shockwave rippling through the dirt.

Michael raised his hand, activating Binding Roots. Vines erupted from the ground, lashing out toward Garren's legs. The captain sidestepped them effortlessly, but Michael was already moving, his hand touching the ground to summon Earthen Spikes.

Jagged rocks shot upward, aiming to box Garren in, but the captain leapt over them, landing with unnerving grace.

"Not bad," Garren remarked, his tone almost casual. "But you'll need to do better."

Michael clenched his fist. He extended Seeded Battlefield, forcing more vines and roots into the ground. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he activated the trap. A faint mist rose, invisible and odorless, carrying the poison he had meticulously refined.

Garren darted forward again, closing the gap. Michael swung the Verdant Blade, the living weapon extending its reach in a whip-like motion. Garren caught the blade mid-swing, twisting it away before stepping back.

Michael didn't falter. He activated Torrential Wave, sending a surge of water crashing toward the captain. The wave forced Garren to retreat momentarily, giving Michael time to reposition himself.

But Garren was relentless. He rushed through the residual water, his movements precise and controlled. Michael barely had time to activate Living Wall, raising a barrier of roots and stone between them.

The wall cracked under Garren's assault, his fist punching through the barrier with brute force. Michael took the opportunity to circle around, using Shifting Step to position himself at Garren's flank.

Michael grinned, activating the final phase of his plan. The Seeded Battlefield trap erupted, releasing roots and vines in all directions. Garren paused as the vines coiled around his legs, slowing his movements.

"You're resourceful," Garren admitted, his voice steady. With a flex of his muscles, he tore free of the roots.

Michael darted in, using Verdant Grasp to summon tendrils that latched onto Garren's arms. For a brief moment, Michael thought he had succeeded. He swung the Verdant Blade, aiming for Garren's shoulder.

But Garren twisted, deflecting the blow with his forearm. In one fluid motion, he stepped forward and swept Michael's legs out from under him.

Michael hit the ground hard, the wind knocked out of him. Garren stood over him, offering a hand.

"You've come a long way," Garren said, pulling Michael to his feet. "Your traps are clever, your tactics sound. Against most enemies, you'd have them dead to rights."

Michael wiped the sweat from his brow, nodding. "But not against you."

"Not yet," Garren corrected. "You've got the potential to surpass even me, boy. But don't get cocky. The battlefield is chaotic. Traps can fail. Plans can crumble. When that happens, it'll come down to your instincts and your will to survive."

Michael sheathed the Verdant Blade, his mind already racing with adjustments to his techniques.

"Thank you, sir," he said.

Garren clapped him on the shoulder. "You'll do well out there, boy. Just remember—no matter how good you are, there's always someone better. Stay sharp."

As the captain walked away, Michael turned back to the field. The duel had been a humbling reminder of the road still ahead. But it had also ignited a spark of confidence. He wasn't the best—not yet—but he was ready to fight, ready to adapt, and ready to survive.