Strider was next. For the first time, I saw him without his dragon armor, and he was… unexpected. Without the intimidating armor and massive scythe, he looked like an ordinary guy—well, an ordinary guy who could bench-press a mountain. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and muscular, dressed in simple black clothing. His long, jet-black hair flowed loosely, adding an almost regal air to his otherwise casual demeanor. He had a kind of effortless confidence, his warm smile making him seem approachable.

  It was a stark contrast to Bruce. While Bruce radiated an aura of constant danger, like he could kill you with a glance, Strider’s energy was entirely different. He looked like the kind of guy who’d tease you mercilessly but have your back in a heartbeat.

  "Alright, Lance," Strider said, stretching his arms as he moved into the clearing. "Get ready to witness some real badassery." His grin widened mischievously.

  Before I could ask what he meant, he raised his arms dramatically and shouted, "Dragon Burst!"

  The transformation was instantaneous. His sleek black armor materialized out of nowhere, fitting perfectly to his muscular frame. The dragon-themed design glinted brilliantly in the sunlight, with sharp, angular edges that made him look fierce and imposing. Then, with a smooth motion, he held out his hand, and his massive scythe appeared, materializing like it had been summoned from another dimension.

  It was… awe-inspiring.

  "Alright, bro," Strider said, twirling the scythe effortlessly in one hand. "Time for some reflex training. Don’t blame me if I go a little rough on ya!" His grin widened, a playful yet intimidating edge to his voice.

  Before I could respond, he charged.

  The training was relentless. Strider’s goal was simple: hone my reflexes and teach me to dodge. But putting that into practice? It was like trying to outrun lightning. His movements were blindingly fast, his scythe a blur of silver and black as it swung toward me again and again. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t seem to keep up. Every dodge felt like pure luck, and more often than not, I ended up sprawled on the ground, gasping for air.

  "Come on, Lance!" Strider called out, his voice teasing but encouraging. "You gotta move like your life depends on it! Because one day, it will."

  By the end of the first day, I was utterly exhausted. Every muscle in my body ached, and my mind was fried from trying to anticipate Strider’s unpredictable attacks. He, of course, looked like he could keep going for hours.

  "Not bad for a first try," he said with a grin as I collapsed onto the ground. "You didn’t die! That’s progress!"

  The next day, the intensity only ramped up. Strider continued his relentless assault, forcing me to dodge, weave, and think on my feet. At first, it felt hopeless—his speed and precision were overwhelming. But slowly, something started to click. My movements became more fluid, my reactions faster. I could feel my body adapting, learning to move in ways I hadn’t thought possible.

  Between training sessions, I started noticing something else about Strider. He was… flamboyant. And by the end of the day, it became clear—Strider was gay, and he wasn’t shy about it.

  At first, it was subtle: the way he’d wink at me after landing a particularly hard hit, or the exaggerated way he’d flex whenever he took his armor off. But by the end of the day, it was impossible to miss. He’d throw in playful, flirtatious comments that left me flustered and unsure how to respond.

  "Nice dodge, bro," he said after one particularly close call, flashing me a grin that practically sparkled. "If you keep this up, I might just let you buy me dinner."

  I stumbled over my words, trying to think of a reply, but he just laughed. "Relax, bro. I’m just messing with you!"

  Despite my initial discomfort, I couldn’t help but admire him. Strider was unapologetically himself—bold, confident, and endlessly supportive. By the end of the day, his constant use of "bro" had rubbed off on me, and I found myself calling him the same.

  That night, we lay in our sleeping bags under the open sky. The stars stretched endlessly above us, their light shimmering against the inky darkness. The camp was quiet, the only sound the faint crackle of a nearby fire. Strider lay beside me, his hands behind his head as he gazed up at the sky, a peaceful smile on his face.

  "Hey, bro," I said, breaking the silence.

  "Yeah?" he replied, his voice relaxed.

  "How did you come to know the Cardinals?" I asked. Strider wasn’t just strong—he was someone I looked up to. His strength, his loyalty, and his unshakable confidence made me want to know more about him.

  Strider’s smile faded slightly, replaced by a distant look. A long silence followed before he finally spoke.

  "Back in my early days as a player," he began, his voice quieter than usual, "I was… nobody. Weak. So weak that nobody wanted me on their team." He paused, his gaze fixed on the stars. "The only teammates I had were people I met online. We came into this world together, but… they didn’t last long. We were hunted down by other players."

  He glanced at me, his expression heavy. "You probably know this already, but killing players in the field gives you double XP. And if you die here… you’re gone."

  I nodded, my chest tightening at the thought. Ivan had explained the risks to me, but hearing it from Strider, who had lived it, made it feel far more real.

  "I hit rock bottom," Strider continued. "I’d lost my team, my confidence—everything. That’s when I met Dante. Back then, the Cardinals weren’t the army they are now. They were just a small group, trying to build something bigger. Dante saw something in me, even when I couldn’t see it myself. He said I had untapped potential and took me under his wing."

  A small smile returned to his face. "That’s when I unlocked my ability—Dragon Burst. It changed everything. Dante gave me a purpose, and I’ve been loyal to him ever since. He didn’t just save me; he believed in me. That’s why I’m here, part of the Seven Endeavors."

  For a moment, his voice trailed off, and I could sense the pain beneath his words. Whatever Strider had gone through, it had left scars. But he didn’t dwell on it. Instead, he turned to me with his signature grin, his eyes sparkling.

  "But don’t worry, bro," he said, his voice playful again. "I’m strong now. I can protect you."

  He gave me a wink, his teeth practically sparkling in the moonlight. My face heated up, and I quickly turned away, pulling my sleeping bag over my head. "Go-good night!" I stammered, my voice muffled.

  Behind me, I heard him chuckle. "Good night, bro."

  As I lay there, my embarrassment slowly faded, replaced by a sense of gratitude. Strider was unlike anyone I’d ever met—flamboyant, fierce, and deeply loyal. And as I closed my eyes, the last thought that crossed my mind was how lucky I was to have someone like him watching my back.

  - The following day -

  The morning air was crisp, the faint chill biting at my skin as I stepped onto the training grounds. My body ached with every movement, a lingering reminder of the relentless training I’d endured under Strider. But this was different. Today, my teacher was Elaine.

  As I approached, my grip tightened instinctively around my sword. Memories of our first encounter flashed through my mind—her speed, her precision, and the cold efficiency with which she had dismantled me. My chest tightened as I remembered the weight of her strikes, the sharpness of her gaze. I was stronger now, but was it enough?

  Elaine stood waiting, her katana sheathed but ready. She didn’t need to say anything—her presence alone commanded my attention. Dressed in her usual black attire, her purple eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made me want to look away. There was no smile, no greeting—just silence as she assessed me.

  "You’re late," she said finally, her voice calm but firm.

  I flinched. "S-Sorry," I stammered, rushing to take my place in front of her.

  Elaine drew her katana—not the blade, but the scabbard itself. She held it lightly, almost casually, but there was no mistaking the control in her grip. She raised it to her side, the motion fluid and deliberate.

  "Today, we focus on swordsmanship," she said simply. "Show me what you’ve learned."

  I nodded, gripping my sword tightly. "I’m ready."

  From the first clash, it was clear how much I still had to learn. Elaine moved like a shadow, her strikes swift and deliberate. Her scabbard hit with the precision of a blade, targeting weak points with uncanny accuracy. Every time I raised my sword to block, she found an opening. Every time I swung, she countered effortlessly.

  "Your stance is unbalanced," she said, deflecting my blade with a flick of her wrist. "If I can predict your movements, so can your enemy."

  I gritted my teeth, adjusting my footing as I launched another attack. Her counter was immediate—a sharp blow to my shoulder that sent me stumbling back.

  "Again," she commanded, her tone leaving no room for argument.

  The training was brutal. Elaine didn’t hold back, her strikes unrelenting as she pushed me to my limits. Every swing of her scabbard felt like a hammer blow, and though the weapon wasn’t sharp, the pain was all too real. My hands began to tremble from the repeated impacts, my arms growing heavier with each strike.

  "You’re hesitating," she said sharply as I faltered. "A sword is not just a weapon—it’s an extension of your body. If you hesitate, even for a second, you’re already dead."

  Her words stung, but they were true. I gripped my sword tighter, forcing myself to focus. The next time she struck, I parried, the clash of our weapons ringing out across the clearing. For a brief moment, I saw a flicker of acknowledgment in her eyes.

  "Better," she said quietly.

  As the hours dragged on, the pain in my arms became unbearable. My grip on the sword weakened, and every movement sent sharp jolts through my body. Finally, Elaine stepped back, lowering her scabbard.

  "That’s enough for today," she said, her gaze lingering on my trembling hands. "You’re at your limit."

  "No," I said quickly, cutting her off. My voice was raw, but my resolve was firm. "I want to keep going."

  Elaine raised an eyebrow, her expression unreadable. "You’re pushing yourself too far. There’s no point in training if you can’t even hold your weapon."

  "I don’t care," I shot back, gripping my sword with all the strength I had left. "I need to get stronger. My time with you is limited, and I’m not wasting it."

  For a moment, she said nothing, her piercing gaze boring into me. I half-expected her to refuse, to tell me I was being foolish. Instead, she raised her scabbard again, her stance shifting slightly.

  "Very well," she said, her voice steady. "But don’t expect me to go easy on you."

  We trained until the sun dipped below the horizon, the clearing bathed in the soft orange glow of twilight. Every part of me screamed in protest, but I didn’t stop. Elaine’s strikes came faster, her movements sharper, and each one forced me to push harder than I thought possible.

  By the time she finally lowered her scabbard, I was barely standing. My body was bruised and battered, my hands raw from gripping my sword for so long. I collapsed onto the ground, gasping for air, but a strange sense of satisfaction filled me.

  "You’ve improved," Elaine said, her voice calm as always. She didn’t smile, didn’t offer any praise—just a simple acknowledgment. But coming from her, it felt like the highest compliment.

  As I lay there, staring up at the stars, I felt a spark of hope. I wasn’t there yet—not by a long shot—but for the first time, I felt like I was getting closer.

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  The morning air was heavier than the day before, the sky overcast as I arrived at the training grounds. My body ached with every step, yesterday’s brutal session still fresh in my muscles. But I couldn’t stop now. I was stronger—Level 5—and today’s training promised to push me even further.

  Elaine stood waiting in the clearing, her posture as composed as ever. Her katana rested at her side, and her purple eyes met mine with their usual piercing intensity. Something about her gaze made my stomach twist—it was as if she already knew exactly how today would end.

  "Today, we’re doing something different," she said, her voice cutting through the quiet.

  Before I could respond, she raised her katana high, her tone firm and commanding as she called out, "Duel Multiplication."

  Two identical versions of Elaine shimmered into existence beside her. They moved in perfect unison, stepping forward as though controlled by invisible strings. For a moment, I just stared, my mind struggling to process what I was seeing. They were flawless copies, down to the smallest detail—their expressions, their stance, even the faint sway of their hair in the breeze.

  "This one," Elaine said, gesturing to the first clone, "is Level 11. And this one"—she pointed to the second—"is Level 5."

  She explained it calmly, as though describing a simple mechanic. "This ability allows me to create clones at half my level. The first clone is half of me, and the next is half of that. It’s versatile—useful for combat, distractions, or defense."

  I nodded, my grip tightening on my sword. "That’s… incredible."

  Elaine walked up to the Level 11 clone and placed a hand on its shoulder. Without a word, it dissolved into dust, leaving only the Level 5 clone standing. "We don’t need this one," she said simply, turning back to the remaining clone. "Today, she will be your opponent."

  The clone stepped forward, its movements mechanical and detached. It drew its katana in one smooth motion, adopting the same perfect stance as Elaine.

  "This will be a deathmatch," Elaine said, her tone unyielding. "Give it everything you’ve got. Don’t hold back because she’s me or because she’s a girl. She won’t hold back, either. She’s here to kill you."

  I hesitated for a moment, studying the clone. Something about it felt… wrong. Its eyes were cold, unblinking, devoid of the intensity and presence that made Elaine so imposing. It was like staring at a mannequin brought to life—unnerving in its lifelessness.

  "Understood," I said finally, raising my sword.

  The clone moved first, its katana slicing through the air with precision. I barely managed to block, the force of the impact rattling my arms. She pressed the attack immediately, her strikes relentless and unyielding. For every swing I parried, another followed, each one perfectly timed and calculated.

  Unlike Elaine, who radiated purpose and intent with every move, the clone fought like a machine—cold, efficient, and emotionless. There was no hesitation, no pause for thought. Just action.

  The battle dragged on through the morning, the sound of clashing blades ringing out across the clearing. I could feel the strain in my muscles growing with each exchange. Though the clone was slower and less refined than Elaine herself, its sheer persistence was overwhelming.

  By midday, the fight had become a brutal test of endurance. My movements were slower, my strikes less precise as exhaustion set in. The clone, however, showed no signs of fatigue. Its attacks came with the same mechanical precision as when we’d started.

  "How long is this supposed to last?" I muttered under my breath, sweat dripping into my eyes as I parried another strike.

  Elaine, who stood observing from a distance, gave no response. Her expression remained unreadable, her arms crossed as she watched in silence.

  By late afternoon, I felt like I was fighting a losing battle. My hands were blistered, my legs heavy, and every breath felt like it might be my last. The clone pressed its advantage, its katana slicing closer and closer with each strike.

  "Gotcha!" I shouted desperately, spotting an opening. I lunged forward, aiming to land a decisive blow.

  But then the clone’s voice rang out, cold and detached: "Sonic Boom."

  It was the first time it had spoken, and the sound made me freeze. For a split second, I stared in shock—until the clone’s speed exploded. It moved like a blur, its katana grazing my side before I could react. Blood seeped from the cut, and I stumbled back, my heart pounding in my chest.

  "You… can talk?" I managed to say, still trying to process what had just happened.

  "My ability," the clone said, its voice devoid of emotion. "It allows me to move fifty times faster than my normal speed. Perfect for catching opponents off guard."

  The monotone delivery sent a chill down my spine. It was as if I were fighting a hollow shell that had just enough awareness to kill me.

  The clone attacked again, using Sonic Boom repeatedly. Each time, it closed the gap in an instant, its katana grazing my arms, my legs, my sides. My body screamed in protest, blood dripping from countless shallow cuts. My movements became desperate, each dodge a near miss.

  By dusk, the battle felt endless. The clone’s ability had turned the tide completely. No matter how hard I tried, no matter how well I anticipated its moves, the sheer speed of Sonic Boom left me defenseless. The stakes were real—if I failed to dodge even once, it would be game over.

  But then an idea struck me. The clone was faster than me, but I was stronger, more skilled. I just needed to think smarter.

  The clone rushed at me again, its katana poised to strike. The moment it activated Sonic Boom, I ducked low and slid forward, its blade narrowly missing my head. My hat’s front brim was sliced clean off, but I didn’t stop. Slamming my foot into the ground, I pivoted sharply, using my sword to stabilize myself.

  The clone noticed too late. I swung with all the strength I had left, aiming for its katana. My blade connected with hers, the impact sending her weapon flying. Without hesitation, I tackled her to the ground, pinning her beneath me. With my last burst of energy, I drove my sword into the ground near her throat.

  "Pant… pant… I… win," I said, my voice ragged.

  The clone’s cold expression softened slightly. Her lips curved into a faint, almost hesitant smile, and for the first time, she looked… human.

  "Looks like you did," she said, her voice no longer monotone. There was warmth in her tone, a flicker of something genuine that caught me off guard.

  For a moment, I forgot she was a clone. She sounded so real.

  She relaxed beneath me, the tension in her body easing as if the fight had been as grueling for her as it was for me. "You’re improving," she added softly. "Elaine will be pleased."

  The clone’s soft smile caught me off guard. For a moment, the lifelessness that had defined it throughout the battle vanished, replaced by a quiet warmth.

  "Well done," she said, her tone now carrying a surprising humanity. "You’ve passed my test."

  Seeing her smile—so much like Elaine’s—brought an involuntary grin to my own face. I couldn’t help it. Despite the grueling battle, the acknowledgment felt… good. And for the first time, I felt like I’d earned it.

  At the same moment, we both started laughing, the tension of the fight dissolving into the air. It wasn’t just relief—it was the strange camaraderie that came from shared hardship, even if one of us wasn’t real.

  "What now?" I asked, still catching my breath.

  The clone stood, brushing off her hands. "There’s not much more to do. Just go to Elaine and show her you passed the test." She paused, her eyes glinting playfully. "She’ll be pleased."

  I pushed myself to my feet, wobbling slightly. My legs felt like jelly, but I managed to stay upright. Offering my hand, I helped her up, and she took it without hesitation.

  "Where is she?" I asked, glancing toward the edge of the clearing.

  "Oh, she’s probably peeping on Bruce," the clone said cheerfully, as if this was the most natural thing in the world.

  I blinked. "She what?"

  I turned back to her, but she was gone. I looked around, confused, but there was no sign of her. It was as if she’d dissolved into the wind. Alone now, I let out a shaky breath. For all the exhaustion weighing on me, I couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride.

  That had been my first real victory. Thanks, Elaine.

  I wandered through the forest, searching for the real Elaine. It didn’t take long to find her—her familiar figure was hunched behind a tree, her back turned to me. At first, I thought she might be meditating or lost in thought. But as I approached quietly, I noticed something unusual: the tips of her ears were red.

  Curious, I leaned around the tree to see what had her so flustered. That’s when I saw it. Elaine, the stoic and commanding swordswoman, was peeping at Bruce. She was carefully watching him from behind the tree, her gaze fixed on him as he practiced. Her face was bright red, and I could practically see the steam rising from her ears.

  The sight made my heart feel strangely warm. This was so unexpected, so cute. It seemed even the mighty Elaine had a softer side.

  "Aww," I whispered in a singsong voice, a teasing grin spreading across my face. "Look at this—our little swordswoman has a crush on Brucey boy."

  Elaine froze, her entire body going rigid. She jumped like a startled cat, nearly letting out a shriek before I clamped my hand over her mouth.

  "Shhhh!" I hissed, trying to calm her down. "You’re gonna expose us!"

  Her body stayed tense for a moment, but then she exhaled slowly and relaxed. As soon as I removed my hand, though, she punched me hard in the gut.

  "Urggghh!" I doubled over, clutching my stomach.

  "You asshole! Why’d you scare me like that?" she snapped, her face still bright red.

  I coughed, trying to catch my breath. "Haha… there you go again. Back to your usual serious side."

  She rolled her eyes, brushing past me. "Come on, let’s go to the hospital," she said sharply, storming off into the forest.

  I straightened up and followed, still chuckling. "Don’t worry, Elaine. I won’t tell anyone."

  She glanced over her shoulder, her glare icy. "You’d better not if you value your life."

  Even so, the redness on her cheeks hadn’t faded entirely.

  As we walked, I decided to offer a gesture of goodwill. "If it makes you feel better," I began, "I’ll tell you who I like as payback."

  Her posture didn’t change, but her eyes flicked toward me, curiosity gleaming in their purple depths. "Go on," she said, her tone almost casual.

  "It’s Claire," I admitted without hesitation.

  Elaine let out a small giggle, the corner of her lips curling into a smile. "Figures. The moment you saw her, you practically tripped over yourself. You’ve been awkward and flustered around her ever since."

  "Hey," I protested weakly, though I couldn’t deny it.

  "So," I pressed eagerly, "would you know if she has a boyfriend?"

  Elaine’s smile widened, her teasing demeanor softening slightly. "Someone’s excited. No, she doesn’t have a boyfriend. Not for lack of trying, though. Plenty of guys have shot their shot."

  "So… why doesn’t she?" I asked, genuinely curious.

  Elaine’s expression turned more serious, her gaze shifting forward. "It’s not that simple," she said quietly. "Claire hates people. Especially men."

  Her words caught me off guard. "Why?"

  Elaine hesitated, then sighed. "She told me a little about it once, though I don’t know the full story. When she was a kid, she had a best friend who had cancer. A group of boys did something awful—something cruel and humiliating—to her friend. Ever since then, she’s seen men as… pigs. She told me that all they care about is sex and a woman’s body."

  Her tone grew heavier. "Her hatred was so intense that it started spilling over. She treated everyone the same, even other girls. It took a long time for her to trust me."

  My heart ached at the thought. "So that’s why she is the way she is," I murmured.

  Elaine nodded, her voice softening. "But I don’t think she’s a bad person. I think the way she acts is a defense mechanism. Deep down, there’s a gentler, kinder person hidden beneath all that anger. I’ve seen glimpses of it."

  Her words brought me back to the moment Claire had smiled at her after their sparring session. That brief, genuine expression had stuck with me. I wanted to see it again—to see that side of her.

  "I’m going to win her heart," I said resolutely, my determination growing with every word.

  Elaine turned to me, her eyes widening slightly in surprise. Then she smiled, a warmth in her expression I hadn’t seen before. "Good luck, Lance. You’re going to need it."

  Her encouragement caught me off guard. I’d expected her to warn me off, to say Claire wasn’t worth the effort. Instead, she seemed… hopeful.

  "To be honest," Elaine continued, "I think the only way Claire will let go of her hatred is if someone proves her wrong. If you can do that—if you can show her there’s more to people than what she’s seen—maybe you can help her heal."

  Her words filled me with a new sense of purpose. Elaine wasn’t just on my side—she believed in me. And for the first time, I began to believe in myself.

  We arrived at the hospital, where the healers quickly patched up my wounds. It took an hour to recover fully, and we spent the rest of the day resting. Despite the grueling battles and bruised egos, I felt a sense of peace I hadn’t expected.

  Through our shared confessions, Elaine and I had come to understand each other better. She wasn’t just my tutor or my opponent—she was my friend. And as we sat beneath the fading light of dusk, I realized just how much I valued that bond.

  As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the training grounds in deep orange hues, I said my goodbyes to Elaine. Despite her usual stoic demeanor, there was a hint of warmth in her eyes as she nodded and turned to leave.

  "See you around," I said, my voice steady, though my body ached from the grueling training.

  Logging out of the game, I was greeted by the familiar glow of the real world. The clock on my desk read 4 PM, and my stomach growled loudly, reminding me of priorities outside of swordplay and survival. I spent the next hour eating, showering, and taking a moment to breathe. It was tempting to collapse onto my bed and call it a night, but as I stretched and glanced at the clock again, a thought hit me.

  It’s only 5 PM.

  The realization settled in. If I went back into the game now, I’d have several hours to spare. Several hours here meant several days there. It was an opportunity I couldn’t waste—not when I was so close to leveling up, another step closer to being on equal footing with the Seven Endeavors.

  Grinning, I booted up the game. "Just a little more training," I muttered to myself as the portal opened, pulling me back into the world of A Warrior’s Kingdom.