Alright! Here's the next chapter. It may seem like a.. info dump? Trust me, I could not do away with this. I actually planned to show the magic training in more detail it would turn tooo boring, so I did this. Long story short, it's a compressed version. So read it and tell how it feels, and what it lacks. [HInt: it does not lack words ;) ]

Also,, this gives me somewhat of a clue about how fast I can release. You may expect a chapter between 1-2 week. Not fast I know, but everything needs thinking, writing, editing, pr and ranting etc. etc.

Anyway, please read it and leave your exalted reviews and ratings, and comments. That's all ^^

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2. How to train a Hero

“Let it be known in wisdom staid

Make thy hearts firm and fears allayed

No gemstone shines bereft of aid

Dull whetstone carves sharp edge of blade

Harsh toil earns true accolade

Nay, heroes are not born but made.”

The next morning began with the peaceful glint of sunlight at early dawn as the birds started chirruping against the backbeat of silence. The autumn had set in Cumaria and chill would soon start creeping in. Boris slept soundly in his luxurious bed, gripping the pillow in blatant disregard for the twittering outside. His face wore no semblance of worry, breathing softly against the cushions of bed. It was as if nothing had happened last night.

The peace, unfortunately, was short lived. Boris was soon dragged out against his will by a manservant, forced to dress up even as his half-drooping eyelids tried to hold their own against drowsiness. A small splash of cold water took care of that, but made him jump out at the cold. His mind jerked as his eyes snapped open trying to find the culprit. But a firm swipe of damp cloth forced them shut only aggravating the chill he felt.

“Don’t you have warm water?” Boris asked the manservant accusingly.

“We do, but we decided to use cold water to wake you up.” The servant replied.

“Why?”

“Well,” the manservant said, fidgeting a bit, “you know, after the other six methods failed, this was the last resort.”

Incidentally, two of the six methods had involved a beautiful maid, so Boris had missed his lucky chance.

Boris climbed down the stairs to the dining hall. The stairs were wooden and softer to the foot. They went across three stories of the building. From the compact design of the rooms and the ordered structure of the hallways, these looked like residential quarters for soldiers or servants. Every room was clean and simple, with one bed and a small balcony. Boris felt more comfortable here, a large opulent room would have left him uneasy.

The dining hall stood at the ground floor. It was one of the three large rooms on each side, the fourth side being open to the entrance. Tapestries and banners hung overhead. Large windows opened on one side and the kitchens rested in the corner. The table was large enough to seat fifty people, but mostly vacant. There were no soldiers here, only a few people seated to one side.

It seemed the others had gotten up earlier than he had as they sat waiting at the table when he arrived. ‘Who eats breakfast this early?’ he wondered looking over to his friends who had quickly adapted well. Ray sat at the head of the table, surrounded by Claire and Sylvia on each side. Beside them sat Elaine and Violet, making it so Ray sat engulfed between four girls.

‘Damn harem king,’ he thought but abandoned his envy. He knew Ray himself held little consciousness of the situation, let alone its appreciation. Boris greeted them as he sat down next to Welmar, the most conspicuous of the occupants. He had abandoned his stately attire for a simple vest and overcoat, both fitting snugly on his towering body. The insignia still clung to his chest. The king was also conspicuous by his absence, apparently having left the responsibility to Welmar. Boris doubted the king would attend such measly gatherings anyway.

They had a small breakfast of bread, eggs and milk. There were fruits, identical to apples but with a distinct sour aftertaste. Surprisingly, this world had similar foods. Welmar turned and explained that he needed to train them to par, if they were to face the demon lord soon. Ray agreed and remarked that they should get started soon.

“We’ll get started today itself,” Welmar assured, then turned to face Boris, “Then, what will you do Boris?”

“Let me at least join them, I’ll drop out if the training is beyond me.”

“So it shall be.”

Welmar took them on an early tour of the castle. He jogged around leisurely, others following him in descending order of height. Ray was, as usual, switched between Claire before him and Sylvia behind him. Boris was the last one, his height was on par with Sylvia but he had no intention of standing behind Ray. Sylvia would him freeze over if he did that.

The castle was built in three different tiers. The place they had stayed was in the innermost and the highest tier, also called the King’s Repose. It was the oldest part of the castle and had gradually come to house only the royalty and their close retainers. The court occupied the center and a miscellany of structures occupied the other parts. The two curious towers floated on either side of it, holding the air defenses.

They descended a spiral corridor of stairs through a bastion at the outskirts of the King’s Repose. It led to a bridge that covered a moat of flowing water. Welmar said that it was built for mage defenses, something about a source of water being necessary for large water spells. The bridge itself descended into the second tier and could be swung magically on a pillar base for blocking access to the innermost tier. Glyphs sat on the floor and roof for obvious purposes.

The second tier was where most of the population dwelt. It favored stone heavily and lacked the aristocratic embellishments. Towers and spires punctuated this part and passages convoluted into a thousand directions, creating a confusing meshwork of structures. The main street led along multiple defenses and embankments that employed patrol. They diverged into soldiers’ quarters, armories, smithing establishments, dining halls and other buildings. The second tier also held the cells underground, a dangerous place to get lost as Welmar warned them.

Boris had no intention of going down to the third tier. He was already beginning to tire and he could only wince at the amount of effort it would require to climb back all the way up. Before him, Ray and Claire were barely out of breath, even Sylvia seemed to hold her own well. Boris frowned a little at the obvious discrimination, the summoning had clearly favored the heroes. He held on however, hoping to finish the first day with dignity.

The third tier turned out to be nothing special. Just thicker walls and more bastions and bridges and arches and soldiers. Boris could only wonder how paranoid the king was to employ so much security and defenses. Or was the threat this bad? Surely that was not possible? Boris was lost in thoughts and panting lightly as Welmar took them back a different route, this one turned out to be shorter to his relief.

At the end of the tour, they stood in a large empty hall, floored with dark red carpets and topped by a high ceiling. Pillars of wood upheld the structure on their thick trunks. Dummies, stuffed with straw and supported on wooden stands, encircled some pillars. The walls were equipped with a variety of weapons including swords, staves, daggers and chains. They hung, organized by size and type, at a height which could easily be reached by the ladders strewn across the floor.

Welmar walked across them to a rather large platform in the centre, raised half a feet above nearby ground and padded in mats. He pulled out some light leather armor from one of the shelves and offered it to everyone.

“This is the combat hall. Here, you will trained in combat,” he said, repeating the same subject ad nauseam, “so that you can be combat ready when the time comes. Until I say otherwise, none of you will be allowed to use weapons. Now, before I begin teaching you I would like to assess where you stand.” He walked up to the circular platform and climbed up. It was evidently a training ring.

“Get in,” he motioned to everyone, “let’s spar.”

There was a bit of confusion before Ray and his friends got in, wearing the armor they had been offered.

“You want us to attack?” Claire asked Welmar.

Welmar stood up and bent his knees a bit, his fists raised in a combat stance. “Come at me with everything you’ve got,” he spurred them, “or you’ll regret it.”

Ray sprung into action, darting towards Welmar. His stance crudely mirrored that of a boxer as he got ready to throw a straight punch. Welmar shifted inside swiftly and sent Ray toppling by the flick of his foot before the fist had connected.

“Keep your feet firm and your stance stable,” he cautioned Ray, “you can’t hit if you can’t stand.” Claire came roaring at Welmar from behind. She jumped right before he turned to face her and extended her feet to kick him right in the face. She was fast but Welmar grabbed her by the ankles as he pivoted on his right foot. He used the momentum to swing her around once while she screamed, and threw her right into Ray. Ray was shocked as he stumbled back, grabbing Claire by her back. “Never jump high, not unless you can maneuver yourself in the air,” Welmar lectured a blushing Claire.

Boris launched right after and kicked at Welmar’s feet, Welmar withdrew creating an opening in which Boris pushed his shoulder into Welmar’s belly. The shoulder met no resistance as Welmar tilted sidelong, and shoved Boris to a fall by his own momentum. “Never use shoulders and head in combat, unless it’s an emergency. Sparring is not brawling.” He glowered at Boris, while Sylvia took this opportunity to circle around him and hit him squarely between the legs.

Boris winced and Ray watched in horror as Welmar turned to face Sylvia, his face a mask of plastic. He raised his hands and Sylvia guarded her face in worry. “One point for that,” Welmar told her, raising his index finger while he smiled, “but don’t practice that move on men. They will die.”

“Do you have balls of steel?” Boris asked in astonishment.

“I have the common sense to use a groin guard Boris, and trust me, it works better than balls of steel.”

Boris and Ray laughed heartily at that comment and proceeded frankly to ask for groin guards themselves.

“Alright, I get the gist of your abilities.” Welmar told them, “I would like to teach you some combat arts but it seems you are not yet used to your bodies. Some amount of practical combat will take care of that.”

He began said practical combat by beating up each one of them in good measure and sending them flying across the floor, which was thankfully cushioned well for impact. They would get up again and try to lash back at him only to experience the bittersweet floor as it nudged them back. Boris tried desperately to knock him back but Welmar got stronger as time progressed, apparently showing his true potential. While Ray and Claire had held their ground throughout the ordeal, Sylvia was tired and Boris was down with breathlessness.

“Hmm,” Welmar looked at the bodies sprawled around him at last, “let us stop here for now. Go take your baths. I will pick you up again in the evening.”

Boris felt relieved until he heard that last sentence. “Again?” he asked ruefully.

“No complaints, Boris.” Welmar reminded him.

They gathered in a smaller room next with four chairs arranged around a low makeshift table and fifth chair at the helm. The beds had been rearranged to create space. It was already noon and the sun had climbed high, but air drafted lazily through the windows, lapping the curtains against the wall and making their shadows dance. It was cool autumn air saturated with drowsiness and Boris was in dreamland when Violet entered the room.

She tapped his head irritatingly with her staff but he just brushed her away saying, “Let me sleep before shorty comes.”

Violet turned red at his comment, she snarled, “Is that so?” then chuckled ominously as she conjured a ball of water to splash into his head. Boris was appalled as he experienced the cold touch of water for the second time and sat up abruptly. Ray stared at him as if he deserved it and Claire laughed at his dripping face.

Violet courteously dried his face by strong draft that seemed to blow his hair off his head.

“There, now that you are washed and alert, it’s time to study,” she added threateningly. Boris was beginning to realize that shorty was indeed an excellent mage, or an archimage, as she called herself. The doubt about her age was also beginning to resurface. If she really was twenty years old then it was pity, for her.

Once they had settled down, Violet began her lessons.

“Magic is, to put it simply, the ability to bend natural phenomenon to one’s will. Like creating a fire,” Violet said as she lit up a small fireball on her finger, “without fuel, or conjuring up water out of air.” The fireball extinguished as a small globule of water formed in its place, swirling in the sunlight. “Most of the magic you conjure can also be wished away.” She flicked her fingers and the water rose, gliding while it dissipated into air.

“There are broadly three types of magic recognized. Basic, assisted and unorthodox. Elemental magic is a good example of basic magic. The only thing you need for basic magic is enough mana and imagination, no spells, no orbs, no scrolls. Plain, simple magic.” She once again lit up a small flame. “Theoretically, basic magic can do everything but as things get complicated, it becomes difficult to control and thus inefficient, even dangerous.” The flames divided again and again creating a row of lights until finally those at the end wobbled and burst away before extinguishing.

“Assisted magic was developed to make it easier to cast basic magic. It restricts the versatility of magic but casting becomes easy and fluid, and it can be specialized to suit the mage. All assisted magic involves spells or invocations and sometimes, a specialized casting aid. As for the unorthodox magic, only know that the summoning glyph used to summon you was an unorthodox magic. It is too complicated to explain now.”

Violet was pleased to see everyone listening intently. She smiled inwardly and it soon spread to her blushing cheek and curling lips. She coughed to hide her joy and continued, “I will begin by teaching you basic magic. Boris, do not try to imitate this. As for the rest of you, learn it well; it is the basis to every other type of magic. To begin with you need to feel your mana,” she told them and then pondered thoughtfully for a while as she rubbed her fingers on her chin. “None of you have experienced mana before, have you?”

“No we haven’t,” Sylvia replied as the rest shook their heads.

“Hold on, this might hurt a bit,” Violet breathed in and held her staff high casting a spell, the moon-mix crystal gleamed with a silvery sheen and suddenly it was darkness, and silence.

“I want you to feel it,” Violet’s voice echoed, “your heartbeat, the flow of your blood and your mana, it flows along with blood but is colder, less palpable. Again Boris, you will understand but do not attempt anything, this lesson is meant for the others.” The voice drowned in silence again.

It was innocuous yet disturbing. There was nothing to be heard and nothing to be seen, just emptiness.

Then Boris started hearing it, as did the others. His heart beat wildly against his chest, conspicuous by its rhythm. He could hear the beat as it traversed through him, along his arms and legs. It beat against his temples, rising and falling, it tapped at his fingertips, bulging and receding. It was everywhere, in his mind and in his eyes. It was disquieting and yet it was natural. As Boris tried to feel his blood flow, he could feel something else along with it. It was cold and hollow, it resounded with the blood flow. It felt as if it would flourish if he could just squeeze at it a little harder and he did so, trying to squeeze it all the way through to his finger tips. Anticipation gave way to excitement as Boris squeezed a bit harder, sure that this was a mana vessel, but it twisted and squeezed back as Boris screamed in agonizing pain that flared through his body, making it cramp and crushing his heart.

“Alright, stop!” Violet shouted at him. His vision was blurry, his breathing erratic. He could make out his friends around him, Sylvia somehow had a fireball lit on her finger while his whole body felt on fire. Boris collapsed as they tried to help him up, losing consciousness.

When he woke up, Boris was in one of the beds, Violet standing beside him. Her face had a difficult look, it was mixture of anger and worry; her forehead wore creases of tension while her blue eyes stared sternly. She had been casting healing magic on him for a while.

“Are you alright, Boris?” Sylvia sat behind Violet, as did Ray and Claire. They seemed worried as well.

“Hmm, I feel great, sorry for worrying you.” Boris sat up from his bed, feeling refreshed.

He received a cold, hard knock by Violet’s staff. “That was extremely dangerous,” she warned him, “Never, ever, ever attempt to use magic. Have you forgotten you’re an inept? If I find you trying to use magic again, I will ban you from all further classes, do you understand?”

“I am sorry, it won’t happen again,” Boris replied honestly.

“As long as you understand.”

Lunch was served soon after. Welmar had left for official business so there were only six people at the dining table, including Violet and Elaine. Violet was still angry at the stunt Boris had pulled during the lesson. She complained stubbornly to Elaine, who listened somberly. Ray interceded with how Boris had collapsed at the end, posing questions about his health.

“Are you alright Boris? Please refrain from reckless actions, your body is weaker than the others.” Elaine joined his worrywart friends.

“Oh, uh, please don’t worry. I am feeling great actually, it’s nothing that bad.”

“It is bad,” Elaine stressed, “you fainted. Your health is a great concern to us.”

“I’m feeling fine,” Boris retorted rather harshly. He did want a hue and cry over a little fainting and he was sure not to repeat the mistake. The event only put his powerless nature into perspective, and he felt irritated when it was dug at.

Elaine twitched her brows slightly at this but soon returned to her composure, “We shall see,” she uttered. She didn’t talk anymore during lunch. Boris felt something ominous from her silence. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t have talked like that,’ he thought. But it was too late for regrets.

Elaine accompanied them back to the same room after lunch. There was large sheet of paper inscribed in strange symbols sitting on the table. A small blue orb sat in its center, shining dully in the sunlight. They took their seats around the table, Ray across Elaine, Claire and Sylvia on his either side. Boris reached for his chair but his leg caught in the ground and he stumbled back, crashing the chair to the ground.

Ray raised an eyebrow at his behavior and Boris feigned nonchalance.

“What’s the matter Boris, surely you’re feeling alright.” Elaine was courteous but her tone carried a cold chill which unnerved Boris. It was worse than the splash of water he had experienced earlier. Even Ray shuddered at her voice.

“Ah. Hahaha,” Boris laughed dryly, “It’s alright Miss Elaine, I am alright.”

“Then please do take a seat.”

Boris proceeded to do the same as he propped the chair up and leaned back, raising a knee to stabilize himself. The knee hit the table and he shouted in pain, covering it with both hands. The people around him watched curiously. It seemed unnatural, humorous even, except for Boris.

“Oh, that looks painful,” Elaine spoke in mock sympathy, “does it hurt?”

By now both Ray and Sylvia had some cue to what was going on, but they opted to remain silent.

“Ahaha. Nope, not one bit. I am feeling great,” Boris replied stubbornly.

He sat forward, extending his elbow to support his chin and screamed like a girl as the elbow hit the table’s edge.

He looked at Elaine but she smiled politely, a monstrous aura hiding at her back.

“I am sorry!” Boris relented pathetically, “It was my bad to talk so harshly before. Please forgive me, o maiden of light.”

“Whatever do you mean Boris?” Elaine asked deceptively.

“I mean I am sorry, just don’t punish me anymore. Please.”

“Such devotion. May the Divine hear your repentance and forgive your sins.”

The next time Boris sat, with extreme caution, there were no more accidents. He thanked the Divine and made a mental note never to cross Elaine. ‘This girl’s as scary as the devil.’

“I will be teaching you about general knowledge,” Elaine began once Boris was seated, “which means nearly everything and anything that is common sense in this world. How we eat, how we dress, how we sleep, how we live and how we die. About races and kingdoms and where they belong and what they do. Just about everything else your curious minds can think up. I want you to remember that the purpose of this is not to make you a hero but to make sure you can survive, so it would not do if you try to sleep and ignore my lessons. Is that clear, Boris?” She asked coolly, but her eyes said otherwise.

“Yes, very clear, Miss Elaine. I’m all alert.”

“Then look here,” she pointed at the table which glowed a while before everything became dark. It was favorite pastime of these people to summon darkness, Boris thought. A holographic image floated before him, it looked like a map.

“What is this magic?” Boris asked in admiration.

“Oh, it seems to have caught your eye,” Elaine raised an eyebrow, “Indeed it is a highly prized unorthodox magic called Illusory magic.”

“So, it can create illusions, like changing appearance or altering perception?”

“Just so.” Elaine confirmed.

“Then can it make people misjudge their surroundings, making them see the ground higher up or the table further away than it is?” Boris asked, feigning innocence.

Elaine chuckled softly at his question, “What are you insinuating? Surely you don’t mean to say that I had a hand in your silly antics a while ago? Or is it that your repentance was shallow?”

“Absolutely not,” Boris panicked as he answered, “I was just curious about the versatility of your magic.”

“Please try not to digress during lessons. Now look at the image.”

There were two landmasses on the map, only a portion of each visible, connected by a broad stalk of land and otherwise surrounded by water. The western part extended beyond the map boundaries.

“This is our world. The lands in north form Gelacien and those down south are part of Virdia. They are named after their geography. Gelacien is colder, harsher while Virdia is more pastoral. This is just our knowledge, though. Because Demonic races govern Gelacien, most of it is uncharted territory. The southern parts of Gelacien once belonged to Harmonic races but the last demon lord claimed them as his own, and it has since stayed so. The only exceptions are some of the southeastern segments, as we shall see.”

“This strip of land is called the Hero’s Sojourn,” as she pointed the map expanded to focus on the stalk of land joining Gelacien and Virdia, “a place of importance to many great heroes of the past. The Widows peaks course the Hero’s sojourn, entering Gelacien from Virdia. They are a tall, precipitous range of snow-capped mountains that extend eastward in Virdia and sink into Anatheim sea, creating the Spines of Sik. And this,” she pointed to the south of Hero’s sojourn, “is where we are. The eastern half of Hero’s sojourn is ours, including the Widows peaks. Our territory expands into south-eastern Gelacien, and the rest of our kingdom lies in northeastern Virdia.”

The map zoomed in further to Cumaria.

“To our west is Sturmhelm, nation of stormtroops and wyverns, occupying the rest of the Hero’s sojourn; to our east lies the Anatheim Sea, with rowdy tides and ruthless monsters, and shipwrecks and corpses. Both of these places are very poor choices for vacation, unless you like bloodshed and gore,” Elaine added dryly.

“Aren’t we allies with Sturmhelm? We share the frontier to Gelacien,” Sylvia asked, paying keen attention to the details.

“We are allies or rather, we are partners in defeat. We both lost huge chunks of territories to demons in the last Infernal war, and resigned to ally to save what was left of us. We don’t exactly see eye to eye though, and our treaties are antique decorations, mostly,” Elaine clarified.

“That’s a bitter way to put it. So we are not friends with Sturmhelm, we just have common enemies.”

“Quiet so,” Elaine continued, “Further south we have Sumaria, a daughter nation that split off in the aftermath of the last Infernal war. Part of our southern border also overlies Cylia, the nation of Elves. Regardless of the past, we have friendly relations with both these nations.”

“I’m guessing it has to do with us being the only thing keeping them from demon attacks.”

“Something like that. But enough about diplomacy. If you look closely you will see a second range of mountains that rise south of Heroes’ sojourn, the Shadows of Sik. They form the backdrop of our castle towards the east. The Shadows of Sik provide us with a huge portion of resources and huge menace of monsters, they are what you would call a necessary evil.” She stopped suddenly, “Let us stop here for today. We will talk about the races next time.” She dispelled the magic and the room came alive once more, with sunlight and gentle breeze and footsteps. Welmar had walked in and stood behind Ray.

“Are you finished Lady Elaine? A pity, I wanted to see more of it.”

“Maybe next time, for now how about you take our heroes to training.”

They ended the day with another session of practical combat, a euphemism for Welmar beating them up. A sumptuous dinner preceded a much-needed sleep. With the exhaustion accrued during the day, it only took Boris a moment to drift away into sleep.

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The second day began with a repetition of the day before. Boris, dragged out of his bed by a manservant, was late for breakfast. Welmar took them on a route around the castle, running them hard in the autumn breeze. They entered the training hall and Welmar started them on combat stances. He focused on the torso and legs and taught them how to stabilize their center of balance. As long as the legs were wide enough and posture was correct, the risk of falling was low. He demonstrated different stances while attacking and defending, correcting their postures when they imitated him.

A sparring session followed. Ray did not topple over and Boris could actually land a few hits, though Welmar contained them easily. Claire was swifter and sharper, her hits had started landing on Welmar but dealt little damage. Sylvia chose to be efficient, landing fewer but more capable hits. Welmar then upped the difficulty level and it seemed everything before had been a play. Once again, the floor became the default position in which Boris lay.

Violet continued teaching magic.

“There are six popular forms of elemental magic,” she explained, “fire, water, earth, air, lightning and yin.” She held her hand in front and cupped her fingers. A small fireball lit up in her palm, it was then doused by an orb of water which was soaked into a hardened muddy crust that broke apart as a small vortex emerged from within.

“The yin,” she said as the vortex calmed down to form a small translucent ball, “is refined mana. It can exert force,” she tried to crush the ball but it resisted, like rubber, “or apply restraint.” The ball finally sprouted threads that looped around her fingers in a knot and pulled them in. “It is the most versatile of basic magic, easy to learn but difficult to master.”

“There are other types of basic magic, but the three of you should practice these first.” Violet told Ray, Sylvia and Claire. She forbade Boris from any further attempts at magic as she proceeded to tell the others how to invoke elemental magic.

“Integral to all magic is creating a cast, a premeditated form of mana,” Violet explained, “You have learnt to sense your mana. Now you need to extrude it, push it through your arms, imagine it forming a clump in your hand.”

“Very good,” she remarked as she saw them practice, “now just imagine an elemental affinity, fire for example. Don’t worry, it will not burn you.”

Boris watched spellbound, seeing fantasy unfold as his friends lit up a small flame. Sylvia had already done that in her last lesson so she proceeded to conjure water instead.

“Great,” she praised the three heroes, “you are all quick on uptake. Now stop your mana flow, force it shut.”

The flames extinguished in wisp, without a smoke. The water slowly dispersed away.

“There you see, even after a conjuration some amount of mana goes in sustaining it, depending on your cast. The moment you stop your mana flow the cast starts to degrade, the poorly formed casts specially degrade fast as you saw. This is how you dismiss basic magic.”

“The efficacy of basic magic depends strongly on the cast, if you want a larger effect, create a larger cast. Geometric casts are more stable than clumps. I want you to refine your casts to spheres and cubes as a part of today’s training.”

By the end of the second class, all the heroes could create small elemental effects. Boris could not, but he had a good imagination to understand how it worked and he contented himself with it.

Elaine’s classes turned to races. The holographic images she projected left strong practical impressions.

“There are five common Harmonic races, if we exclude the outliers. Dwarves, elves, scythians, pixars and humans. This is a dwarf,” Elaine pointed to the holographic image of a small, stubby figure that had the height of a child but the features of an adult. He wore a helmet over his face, covering his ears and outlining his eyebrows. His hair was thick and wavy, complemented by a dense moustache and long beard. “They have stout but strong physiques. They are gifted with a strong affinity for earth and fire and make the best metallurgists. Dwarves often inhabit hostile environments near volcanoes and hot springs, which they utilize for forging metals and enchantments. They have no equal in this regard.”

True to the description, the dwarf in the image held an imposing axe across his shoulder.

“The male dwarves are known for long beards and heavy moustaches, while the females sport hair in ponytails.”

The picture changed to a female dwarf who had her hair tied back into a ponytail that flung back on her left shoulder.

The model vanished, replaced by a taller, more petite individual who stood in a white shirt and loose pants, a long overcoat extended to his thighs. His nose was sharp, his ears long and pointed and his eyes were narrow. His features gleamed with intelligence and elegance. Fine, combed hair flowed down to his shoulders. It looked like an archetypical elf from fantasy.

“An Elf?” Ray remarked.

“Indeed,” Elaine answered, “Elves are a magically gifted race. They have a longer lifespan and greater innate talent at magic than any other race. They hold a strong affinity with nature and native elements of their homeland and excel at wards and alchemy. They are the least gifted in physical strength but their agility and magical aptitude more than makes up for that.”

Elaine looked around as everyone listened in, making no gesture of surprise or curiosity.

“You all seem used to this?” She asked.

“Well, how do I say this, we kind of expected it. This is fantasy after all,” Ray responded.

“Fantasy?” Elaine was curious.

“They are fictitious accounts of imaginary worlds with no basis in reality,” Sylvia explained, “Our world has a lot of them. They even described elves and dwarves in similar manner.”

“So you read about them in fairy tales as imaginary creatures?”

“Kind of. Now that I think, it is entirely possible that some of the older heroes were summoned from our world went back and wrote about your world, making it into fantasy.”

“That is a good guess Miss Sylvia. Then have you also heard about Scythians and Pixars?”

“No.”

“Hmm… Alright. Scythians are a race of warriors and hunters,” Elaine explained, “They are augmentators, gifted with the ability to enhance their own strength and reflexes. This makes them lethal in close combat but their aptitude at magic is poor otherwise. Our king hires a lot of them from Sturmhelm, as personal guards and chefs. They make amazing food.”

The scythian displayed before them looked tall and athletic. His hair was closely cropped. His brows were thick and his eyes sharp, an aquiline nose stood between them. Large ears perched on either side and thick lips overlaid a prominent chin covered with stubble. His neck was wide and muscular, a pattern on the left side of it. He wore armor that covered his body and a metal plate over his forehead. He would look like a bouncer if he shaved and a pirate if he grew out his hair and beard. Boris smiled as he made that comparison. The image soon vanished from before him and something else stood in its place.

“These are pixars,” Elaine’s tone was darker now, cautionary, “if you ever have the misfortune of meeting one, run. Do not confront them, do not offend them, keep as far as you can and when you can, run.” The description did not match at all. The beings in question were smaller than the dwarf before, and looked even more harmless. Their features were childlike and the only difference was perhaps the wings, which looked like out of a fairy costume. They were translucent and glittery, arranged in two pairs like that of a butterfly.

“They look innocent,” Claire observed.

“They do, don’t they? They have small statures and cute faces. Even population wise, pixars are a small race. Their own nation is unknown, though they inhabit many other nations. Their talents lie in espionage, subterfuge and assassinations. They are twisters, blessed with unorthodox magic capable of enormous harm, and yet inconspicuous and untraceable. Even the demons were wary of them when they took part in the war. I doubt you will ever get to meet them, they prefer obscurity, but if you do, even if you become the strongest of heroes, exercise caution.”

Then she sighed, as if no amount of warning could portray their danger, and dispelled the magic. Elaine continued, “Finally there are humans, the youngest of the races. Their history is short and unclear beyond a certain point. Their race is a jack of all but a master of none. They have some affinity for all types of magic and can adapt most others to suit themselves. Alchemy, metallurgy, augmentation, twisting, humans have learned it all to some extent. Humans have no unique magical trait, but the capability to adapt magic is specific to them.”

“Aren’t we humans?” Claire asked. The way Elaine described humans looked as if they were just another race.

“Well, you are and you aren’t. Your features all match with humans but you are from a completely different world. Still, most of the past heroes have been similar and some of them learnt arcane magic beyond imagination. So while you may consider yourself weak, you possess the greatest potential.” Elaine reassured them.

“There many minor Harmonic races like Hepturans and Knols, but they are rare and most live far from our borders. You will know if you come across them but they are not as important to remember.” Elaine concluded.

“And what of demonic races?” Boris asked, interested in the portrayal of demons.

“We know little about demonic races, except for those that we faced over the frontier and those that spill over into our lands from time to time. The most common of them are goblins and orcs, known for raiding fields and attacking small settlements. Then there are trolls and ogres. They often attack travelers and merchants, wreck carriages and obstruct mining in the distant north. Only the frontier deals with them, of course. Records of the previous Infernal wars narrate bestial races, not anymore our problem. Myths and lore speak of many others. Of titans and fiends, but there's no evidence to back them.”

“Only those?” Boris enquired, “What about slimes and ugly spiders and giant serpents?”

“Those are monsters not demons.”

“Are they different?”

“Of course they are. Demons possess a higher level of consciousness like us. Monsters are like animals, only more powerful and in possession of magic.”

“And dragons?” Boris asked, hopeful of finding the greatest of creatures in fantasy.

“Dragons!” Elaine exclaimed, “How do you know of them?”

“Well, they were in our fairy tales.”

“Oh,” she breathed a sigh of relief, “I don’t know how they were in your fairy tales, Boris but here, dragons are l. They are looked upon as demons, though they never participated in the Infernal war, and they are powerful, powerful beyond thought. People say they possess the most powerful of arcane magic, the dragon tongue. Their words, their language, hold irrefutable power. They can kill you with words, literally…. Only one hero in our history has ever defeated a dragon, and he did not return unscathed….” She shook her head in disbelief, “Nobody knows much about them but know that dragons are unlike anything you have witnessed and fortunately for us, they like to remain alone and undisturbed. If we had to fight them, I would say our races would perish.”

“So I won’t get to see dragons?” Boris asked, he was rather eager to ride a dragon once.

“No you won’t. Consider it your good luck. We do not know where they dwell and if we did, we would avoid them like hellfire.”

“Then what about that giant lizard with wings I saw on my first day,” Boris asked curiously about the sight he had registered. It had seemed like a dragon, ruthless but tame.

Elaine pondered a while before she could understand what Boris was asking. “That was a wyvern, they are lizards that can fly and can be tamed. Dragons, are a catastrophe, if you have ever seen one.”

“Oh,” Boris remarked blithely, still unsure what she really meant.

“So you get it now. That is all for today’s lesson. Look, Commander Welmar is ready to take you back.” Elaine pointed to the door where Welmar stood.

Welmar took them through the usual routine of demonstration and sparring. He demonstrated simple blocks and counters, having them repeat after him. Ray and Claire picked them intuitively and were soon employing them but Boris and Sylvia took time getting used to it, after constant lecturing from Welmar. The second day was over before they knew it.

A whole week went by similarly.

It was rinse and repeat for the four of them. Welmar taught them more about stances and moves during combat. Ray improved by leaps and bounds, he could easily hold up to Welmar for a few minutes. Claire became faster, more agile and sharper. She could almost vanish before attacking, which made her deadly. Sylvia also showed remarkable improvement, though her style was mostly calculated and precise as opposed to Ray’s strength and Claire’s speed. Even Boris could feel a change, he felt stronger, more confident, but he could hardly hold a candle to others. The progress they showed in a week was comparable to months of training, even Welmar had accepted the fact.

Violet improved upon their magic. She had them practice until the heroes could manipulate casts freely. There were five elemental forms— A trail of fire, an orb of water, a cube of earth, a streak of lightning and vines of yin. Every cast could be launched to a distance, though it suffered some decay with time. The most problematic, as Boris observed, was lightning. It could not be launched like a fireball and sustaining it often left his friends sweating and tired. The easiest method was to just cast it in a line and hope it went straight towards the target. And it did that mightily fast, providing no chance to evasion.

Sylvia showed an immense grasp of the topic, better than Ray and far beyond Boris. She could easily wield the six basic elemental effects. Boris lagged behind severely, being an inept. He was still interested in magic and Violet took tenderly to his interest. She dedicated some extra time helping him understand the basics that confused him. Boris was finally beginning to feel some respect for the little mage. As it turned out, she was actually a genius and was really twenty years of age. Boris could only remark that all her nutrients went to her mind instead. That earned him a few water showers and wind whirls.

Elaine’s classes skimmed over races, geography, professions and economy before turning to history and lore. Boris found more and more inclination to sleep in her classes but the horror of what he experienced the first day kept him awake. Elaine did keep a vigilant eye on him, a rather sharp one.

Just like that, Boris pulled through the week resolutely, hoping that he would soon get a chance to catch up.

But chance had failed him.

____________

Yes, this is it! I am so glad you read till here. Well then, until next time. Leave your opinions below please.