“First, I’d like to be honest,” Advisor Flithus hummed out. I found myself expecting him to say something about me being a Protagonist. Or maybe my Legendary skill or godly boon abilities. I wasn’t sure what level of weird he was used to with his job, but regardless, I had to be pretty high up there, didn’t I? While I hadn’t had time to grow to a super high level, I was still pretty proud of what I’d managed to earn in less than a full year.

It was some surprise, then, when the words that left his mouth failed to match expectations.

“Without meaning this as an attack or a judgment, I wish to be blunt. Your skills are abysmal.”

Wait, what? “That bad?” I mean, I knew I was a little behind. For some skills like Reading, I had to imagine I was pretty much at the bottom of the barrel when it came to other students at the academy. Still, I had to be doing something right considering how many duels I’d ended up winning.

The advisor gave a stern but gentle nod, careful not to let his spectacles slip down his nose. “Indeed. In fact, if I may be so bold, it is the kind of skill sheet which leads one to believe you have not had access to the system for as long as others. Is that correct, or how long has it been since you gained your first level?”

Welp. Guess it was more obvious than I thought. “I think it’s been about a year? A little less.” I was actually probably nearing my Protagonist-anniversary.

To this, Advisor Flithus let out a sort of high pitched “hmph!” the information appearing to impress him more than the Legendary skills or my various marks.

“In that case, I will commend you for how much you’ve managed to amass over the course of a year. I strongly doubt any of your peers has made such strides in a single year. With that being said, your current skills feel haphazard, likely gained more from happenstance than any serious planning. Regardless of what you wish to do in the future, you’re missing basic, staple skills that nearly everyone will have at least a few levels in at your point. That’s to say nothing of your skill evolutions, which I imagine are similarly random and unplanned.”

With each word, the advisor’s volume grew ever so subtly, with him leaning in further and further. By the end of it, he was tightly squeezing his hands together, delivering the final sentence with a giddy grin. His demeanor made me feel like I was missing something.

“Um. Why do you seem happy about this?” As far as I could tell, he was saying my skills basically sucked.

His clasped hands drifted apart and turned downwards, his fingers soon drumming atop the desk in a rapid staccato. “Because, dear child, this course is bound to be incredible for you!”

The remainder of my talk with the advisor was equally illuminating as it was embarrassing. As it turned out, he was right. I was missing some painfully common skills.

Case in point: Running. Running! Almost an entire year, and I’d never grabbed the skill for running!

The requirements for it ended up being shockingly simple: After grabbing 15 Dexterity, I had to run a full mile without stopping. It was a task so basic that the average high-school student was forced to do it in your standard gym class.

Somehow, though, I’d never done it.

Sure, I’d sprinted in short bursts during fights. It wasn’t that I never ran. But the closest I’d ever come since hitting 15 Dexterity had likely been the time I’d chased Cal through the streets of Ftheran when she’d been spying on me. Had I kept it up for a while longer, I’d have grabbed the skill, but Nadja’s bar definitely hadn’t been a full mile away from the central plaza.

In and of itself, that was bad enough, but it turned out a lot of the more basic skills had some pretty far-reaching bonuses. Leveling Running would have stronger short-term impacts on my speed than putting more points into Dexterity, and depending on what augments I aimed for, it could vastly improve my combat potential.

Likewise, there were a myriad of skills which could improve my flexibility, maneuverability, effective strength, carrying capacity, stamina regeneration, appearance, and far, far more.

These were hardly some big secret that only the advisors in Sylum knew about either. Essentially everyone who was going for a Dexterity-based class would grab the simpler ones like Running, Contortion, and Acrobatics the moment they passed 15 in the stat. All the other stats had their own host of basic skills as well, and it was generally accepted that most people would be forced to level them pretty high to get to level 10 if they weren’t using a cheat like the Scepter of Assignation or constantly fighting.

All that to say: I had my work cut out for me.

After explaining everything to me, Flithus had taken the remainder of the class to ask me about my goals and what sort of skills I wanted to focus on.

Long-term, I definitely wanted to learn a few more professional skills, both in an effort to test out my Arcanist’s Gloves more and also to find what sort of hobbies really resonated with me. Shorter and medium-er term, I was mostly concerned about getting stronger. In small part, that was for my upcoming dungeon runs, but really I just wanted to get to a point where the idea of an Antagonist finding me didn’t spell certain death for me.

Ultimately, though, I left the meeting feeling pretty energized by how much growth I still had before me. For my homework, Flithus recommended that I hit up the library and check out a few of the skill compendiums — Suds had briefly mentioned them once, but apparently there were entire thick tomes filled with nothing but skills, how to get them, and how to get certain augments for them when they reached the next rank.

For his own homework, Flithus told me he’d be drafting a training plan for me to grab some of the skills I needed. On top of that, we’d be going through my class in more detail and figuring out how to spend my recent influx of class points from leveling up my schools of magic. Without having an urgent need to spend them, I’d held onto them all, knowing I’d appreciate an expert’s opinion.

And just like that, my first Skill Advising class of the semester ended. I could only hope the rest of my time with Flithus would prove to be as helpful.

“Hi everyone. Welcome. Welcome! Thank you for coming. While we wait for the rest of our little family, grab a seat.” The instructor’s words had a soothing, almost melodic quality to them, calming me down to such an extent, I wondered if there was a skill at play.

Past that, she was a tad more eye-catching than most of the city dwellers I’d come across thus far. Impossibly smooth skin made it clear that she’d invested a fair few points into Charisma, and additionally, she was one of the fewer residents I’d seen with dyed hair — blond, in this case, with seafoam green tips which were gathered together into a loose ponytail. Her figure was notably small, and while she didn’t seem gaunt or underfed in any way, there wasn’t much to see in the way of muscles. They would have been pretty evident too, as she was sporting a sort of yoga-ish crop top which exposed her non-existent abs.

To add to the overall vibe, eschewing a chair, she sat lotus style on a thick cushion. The rest of the room was likewise outfitted, with not a chair in sight. Not knowing quite what I was in for, I opted to grab one of the cushions towards the back of the room, empty spots surrounding me.

“Hi, hi, hi. Amazing. I’m sure a few more of us will be trickling in, but let’s get started, shall we? I’m Lenda. No ‘instructor’ or ‘missus’ or ‘lady.’ Just Lenda. I don’t view this as so much a ‘class’ exactly, but more of a journey that we’re all on together. An exploration! And I want to thank all of you for being here as we all seek to better ourselves through resistance training. I think you’ll find that-”

A tingling in my spine pulled my attention away from the introductory lecture as I felt a pair of eyes boring into me. On reflex, I swiveled my head over to the sensation’s origin, finding myself staring at the doorway and the figure therein.

Only barely stopping myself from doing so aloud, I mentally swore. Multiple times. With gusto.

You have got to be kidding me.

The figure in question seemed to have a similar outlook on the situation, his sour expression serving as a mirror to my own. To make matters worse, even with all the empty seats available, he strode directly my way, grabbing one of the cushions to my side.

As I was trying to figure out what the hell was going through his mind, a thin bubble of mana sprung up around us, its function not immediately clear.

“Lady Astorius. I’m afraid I must insist you find another class. I have no desire to run afoul of the archmage’s edict barring me from interacting with you, but this class is a necessity for me. I’ve had it penciled in well before I even came to the academy. Unless you suddenly find the desire to take a course with me, it will be better for the both of us if you leave me to it.” He droned on in a somewhat listless monotone, not appearing to care about Lenda’s continued monologue.

I was somewhat surprised at that, actually: The class was significantly smaller than most of my previous courses, and it was by far much more silent. I expected a few glances our way, if for no other reason than to chastise the guardsman for his interruption. Past that, where the man found the nerve to “insist” that I drop the course I’d enrolled in was beyond me.

Seeing my hesitation to respond, he continued on. “I’ve erected a unidirectional sound barrier along with a light glamor. Ah. Apologies. That means ‘one way’ if that’s not a word they teach the Yekkish. Regardless, we will not disturb the rest of the class while we discuss your imminent departure.”

I idly wondered how strong the “glamor” element was and if it would cover me throttling him. While one small portion of my attention was focused on the sorry excuse for a human being next to me, I used the rest to track the ongoing lecture, not wishing to miss anything, especially on account of Warram.

“...so I really want to thank all of you for being vulnerable by coming here. Because that’s what this class is about. Vulnerability. Showing off your weaknesses to one another, but then also overcoming them. Growing. Becoming better versions of ourselves, together…”

Seemed sort of hippy-ish for my tastes, honestly. Was this actually the right class, or how exactly did the resistance training work?

With the somewhat odd tone of the lecture, I spared a bit more focus for Warram, deigning to respond. Now that we’d gotten past the point where he was pretending to not have it out for me, though, I felt no need to mince my words.

“All right. Please let me be clear about this. You’re a little shit, and if you try making me kick myself out of this class, I have literally zero shame and will sick the archmage on your sorry ass.” He’d probably be more than a little peeved at me for getting him involved with Warram again, but especially now that I’d seen through his illusion, I felt he was unlikely to drop me as a student. “I have a feeling he’ll take my side on this one, and then-”

I found my focus drawn away from my diatribe as a harsh light and a wave of heat emanated from the front of the room. The cause was hardly difficult to discern either: For whatever reason, Lenda appeared to have lit her hand on fire. Hot fire. It raged and roiled, a mixture of a demonic blue along with a bitter black, the heat palpable from even this distance.

A second later, her other hand seemed to sprout a layer of ice which rapidly grew until it fully encased her upper arm. While not quite as visually impressive as its flaming counterpart, even the sight of it somehow made my eyes feel like they were freezing over.

“...but with all of that said, depending on what version of yourself you wish to grow into…” She cooed the words out ever so deceptively sweetly.

Right before she took each of her hands.

And with an ear-shattering shout.

Plunged them directly into her exposed stomach.

Her flesh readily gave way to the force of her strikes, twin gaping gut wounds forming in an instant. Fire licked at the first, burning the surrounding skin, while frost started to spread from the other.

“YOU WILL NOT FEAR THE HEAT OF FIRE! YOU WILL NOT FEEL THE BITTER COLD!”

She ripped her hands from her guts, the wounds showing no signs of bothering her in the slightest.

“PAIN WILL NOT DETER YOU! NO BLOOD SHALL FLOW FROM YOUR VEINS!”

As quickly as it had appeared, the fire surrounding her hand vanished, only for her to somehow summon a dagger into it. A dark, viscous substance dripped from it, the air growing hazy above the dagger and the ground sizzling as the liquid connected with the floor.

Without hesitating, she plunged the dagger into her arm, lines of inky darkness zig-zagging away from the point of impact.

Only a moment later, a number of portals appeared surrounding her other arm. Ghostly blue chains shot from them, tightly wrapping around her arm in an effort to bind it. With one quick jerk of her limb, the chains snapped, instantly freeing her.

“THE DEADLIEST POISON WILL BE NO MORE THAN WATER TO YOU. NO BINDINGS SHALL IMPEDE YOUR ADVANCE!”

A manic, almost bestial glint graced her eyes as she smacked her hands to her chest, only barely managing to strike above the duo of wounds beneath. “THIS IS THE PATH OF RESISTANCE!”

For a moment, all thoughts of Warram fled me as I stared at the tiny woman whose words had been loud enough to rock the room. The rest of the room appeared to be similarly stunned, and on remembering Warram beside me, I found that even he seemed somewhat taken aback.

Hell. Maybe I should just let him have this class. Is this something I really want to do?

A glow of life mana infused the resistance trainer, and the visible signs of her earlier demonstration promptly disappeared. Were it not for a few blackened burn marks on her clothing, one could have been forgiven for thinking the entire performance had been a fever dream. Even her expression morphed back to normal, the emotional whiplash taking me by storm.

“So that’s something to look forward to, everyone! Regardless of which exact resistances you’re hoping to train, know that we have the resources to support you as you move ahead in your journeys, and-”

Annoyingly enough, Warram seemed to find his voice before I did, deciding to only tangentially acknowledge whatever the hell that had been.

“Is this even something you want to do? Certainly there are less painful classes to take, and unless you’re willing to grant me a reprieve from the archmage’s order, I simply cannot imagine that this is worth the hassle of-”

As he continued to babble on, Lenda at last drew to the conclusion of her intro lecture. “And as one last note, one thing you’ll want to do as you embark on this adventure with us is to find someone you can really trust. Hurting ourselves can be hard!” she said with a completely straight face after the stunts she’d just pulled. “I’ve found in past years that things go much more smoothly — and that skill growth goes much more quickly and yields better augments — when you all form pairs. It’s not mandatory, but finding someone who you can trust to inflict some of that pain and push you to your limits can really be-”

I wasn’t sure if it was to my credit or my discredit, but I did not wait to hear more.

A knife appeared in my hand.

I overcharged it with a solid dash of mana.

And I plunged it into Warram’s side.

Deep.

He barely registered the attack before doubling over with a gasp, a stream of blood already starting to flow out of him.

As casually as I could manage, I cocked my head to the side while making eye contact with him.

“Hey, you need to level Pain Resistance and Bleed Resistance, right?” I shot him my most winning innocent smile as he looked at me like I was crazy.

Fucking hell, I’ve wanted to do that for so long.

While he failed to find his tongue as he attempted to push through the pain, I amended my earlier statements. “You know, I actually think I could have the archmage make an exception, just this once. It’s not your fault that we ended up in the same class together. But what else are you training, anyway? Do I get to burn you? Poison you? I mean, it’d be hard doing that to a noble guardsman like you, but you know, ‘for the peace’ and all that, am I right?”

Either from the damage Warram had received or the lapse in his concentration, the mana barrier around us shattered. With the glamor no longer keeping any prying eyes away from us, a shout came from the front of the room.

“Oh! And it looks like we already have an eager pair in the back! Good job, you two! A single stab wound isn’t a great way to level up someone’s Bleed Resistance, though. We have plenty of ways to heal you all up, so if you really want to help your friend, you should stab him a few more times, all right?”

I nodded sagely in response while brandishing my knife.

After all, who was I to deny the wisdom of the expert?

Before Warram could accidentally use his class skill on me (and thus mistakenly limit his valuable growth opportunities), I made sure to help him out with another stab for good measure.

As he let out a pained yelp, I heaved a giant sigh of contentment.

This class was shaping up to be a lot of fun!