It was a Monday morning, just like every start of the month, and the first three days of the week were reserved for training the newest recruits at the Adventurers' Guild of Eldoria.
Among those in charge of the training was Eryndra, a Class-7 adventurer with a storied past.
Two years earlier, she had been gravely injured during an exceptionally dangerous mission. Since then, she had chosen to step away from life in the field, taking on a different, yet equally vital, role: that of an instructor.
Despite two years of forced retirement, Eryndra still didn’t feel ready to return to active duty.
The scar from her wound wasn’t just physical.
And yet, her new role left her little room to rest. In the world of adventurers, respect wasn’t earned by past glory, but by proving oneself every single day.
With her delicate build and short stature, features that made her look more like a teenager than someone nearing thirty. Eryndra knew the fresh recruits were likely to underestimate her.
But she had long since learned how to turn that to her advantage.
She commanded respect through discipline, precision, and an unyielding presence.
She tolerated neither disorder nor doubt. Her sharp gaze and methodical demeanor were enough to silence ridicule on the very first day of training.
In a world where brute strength often defined power, Eryndra stood apart, showing that intelligence and preparation could surpass even the strongest muscles.
That morning, she had risen earlier than usual.
Adjusting her practical uniform, she studied herself in the mirror of her room. Behind the delicate features was a formidable adventurer, once known as The Flame of the Guild.
“Over thirty new recruits today... a record,” she murmured, her tone a blend of satisfaction and anticipated fatigue.
More recruits meant more responsibilities—and more pressure.
A quiet sigh escaped her lips.
She knew the day ahead wouldn’t be easy.
But this was her duty now: to pass on her knowledge, to train the next generation, and above all, to teach them that in the world of adventurers, respect isn’t earned with words, but with action.
Eryndra reached for her spear, an ornate weapon she carried more for symbolism than actual use.
She rested it against her shoulder, and before stepping out of her room, she whispered to herself:
“Let’s go. Time to show these rookies what it truly means to be a real adventurer.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Training was scheduled to begin at 9 a.m.
In front of the imposing door of the training hall, an exceptional structure carved from boubou wood, a rare tree brought back by adventurers who had explored the far western reaches of the Empire, a line had already
Around thirty individuals stood there, gathered in a silence laced with both tension and excitement.
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The diversity of the candidates didn’t escape Eryndra, who observed quietly from the corner of the room.
Among them were youths barely out of childhood, their faces still marked by innocence.
They stood alongside older men and women, their wrinkles and weary eyes telling tales of hard labor and long years.
Each one was armed with something different, a reflection of their personal choices and potential abilities: from simple magic wands to gleaming sabers, finely crafted spears, and sturdy battle-worn axes.
Some carried their gear with confidence, their posture revealing a certain level of maturity and battle experience.
Others, in contrast, seemed nervous and clumsy—likely novices stepping out of the comfort of their homes for the very first time.
Eryndra frowned slightly at the sight of such an unusual crowd.
While this kind of diversity could be a strength for the Guild, it also made her job as an instructor much more complicated.
The expectations and capabilities of each recruit would be wildly different, making it hard to set a consistent pace for the training.
She could already feel the dull throb of a headache forming.
Eryndra took a deep breath, pushing away the last traces of fatigue clouding her mind.
She stepped out from the shadows with measured steps, her posture straight, head held high.
With a single breath of magic, she released her aura—a silent wave of pure, undiluted power.
Even the novices felt it instantly. A chill ran down their spines.
As she passed, the recruits instinctively parted, as if moved by an invisible force.
A tense silence settled over them.
"That’s her... the instructor?"
"She looks young, doesn’t she?"
"And so tiny... Not what I expected at all."
"I think she’s kinda cute," someone murmured with a dreamy look.
Eryndra didn’t flinch.
Her boots struck the courtyard stone with the precision of a metronome as she advanced.
She approached the massive door of the training hall, lifted her hand calmly, and pressed her fingers against the boubou wood.
A faint light shimmered across the surface—magical lock, undone by the incantation.
The door gave a deep, resonant groan and slowly swung open, revealing the great training hall inside, bathed in natural light from its enchanted glass panes.
“Enter,” she said, her voice calm but firm, without even glancing back.
She stepped inside first, her hands clasped behind her back, and ascended the gently elevated instructor’s platform—a smooth white stone podium reserved for trainers.
There, she turned around, watching the line of recruits as they entered one by one.
Some held their heads high, others crept in nervously, trying to make themselves smaller.
Her gaze swept across every face with analytical coldness, examining gestures, posture, gear.
She was already taking mental notes: the strong, the weak, the unstable.
Once the last candidate crossed the threshold, she slowly unrolled a scroll from her leather pouch.
Her eyes scanned the names.
Her brow furrowed slightly.
“Thirty-two... Three missing,” she murmured "too bad"... —just loud enough for the nearest recruits to hear.
She folded the scroll, slid it into her pocket, and placed one foot on the edge of the platform.
she swept the group with a stare that seemed to pierce straight through to their souls.
The murmurs died instantly.
A heavy tension filled the air, intensified by her upright posture and the quiet strength of her presence.
She drew in a slow breath and spoke clearly, her voice firm but not aggressive:
“Good morning. My name is Eryndra. I’ll be your instructor for the next few days.”
A heavy silence followed.
The recruits straightened instinctively—some adjusting their gear without even thinking.
Eryndra’s eyes moved from one to the next, gauging each reaction.
“We have a lot to do, and very little time to do it. If you think joining the Guild is a game, or just a formality—leave now. You’ll save your time, and more importantly, mine.”
Her words were sharp, but her tone remained calm—almost neutral.
An implicit test of resolve. A first filter for the hesitant.
Eryndra stood with her hands clasped behind her back, waiting a few seconds, eyes sharp, observing their reactions.
