Elias walked beside Aysse through a series of immaculate, high-ceilinged corridors. The polished surfaces and austere decor exuded the prestige of House Veridan. Although the earlier flood of information had left Aysse feeling burdened, he noted a subtle shift in Elias's demeanor—a departure from rigid nobility toward a familiarity that made him feel like an equal rather than merely a subject of study.

  "I expected you to be more... disoriented," Elias remarked, though there was no true surprise in his voice. If anything, there was curiosity, a slight test in his words. "Most Otherworlders wake up in a panic. You're oddly composed."

  Aysse shrugged slightly. "I think my body is still catching up. I won't say I'm fine, but breaking down won't help."

  Elias chuckled, sharp eyes never leaving Aysse's face. "You carry yourself well for someone freshly inserted into our world."

  Aysse glanced at his reflection in a polished surface as they passed. Roughly 1.8 meters tall, lean yet sturdy build, sharp features, dark eyes—a mixture of curiosity and calculation staring back at him. His newly integrated tentacle twitched subtly with his thoughts, a constant reminder of his changed state.

  They continued walking. Elias's voice carried a note of purpose. "The Veridan Institute isn't just a research facility. It serves two primary functions. First, it manages Faery insertion—preparing and fusing Faery with suitable hosts."

  Aysse gave a slight nod, absorbing the information. "And the second?"

  Elias's voice grew heavier. "Managing Otherworlders like yourself. Most don't arrive under favorable circumstances—criminals, exiles, people their worlds cast aside."

  Aysse's brow furrowed. "So, you study them?" His words carried a sharp edge, and he didn't bother softening it.

  Elias didn't flinch. Instead, a small, almost amused smile played at the corner of his lips.

  "We study, train, and repurpose them." Elias's tone was matter-of-fact. "Eurory constantly needs manpower. Outside the kingdom's borders, creatures—some mindless, others terrifyingly intelligent—roam freely. Every resource must be put to use, or we risk being overrun."

  The cold practicality of it all made Aysse uneasy. Survival, yes. But at what cost?

  Turning a corner, Elias gestured toward a large set of imposing doors. Aysse's steps faltered for a brief moment as he took in their sheer size—tall enough to dwarf even the tallest warriors, their dark metal surface embossed with intricate patterns that seemed almost alive under the corridor's lighting. A weight settled in his chest, an unspoken understanding that whatever lay beyond would demand more of him than he had yet given. "Come. There's something you should see."

  They stepped into a sprawling, open-air training ground—an arena where five separate terrains had been merged into a single battlefield, they were ingeniously designed to allow it. The earth bore deep scars, furrowed and uneven from past skirmishes, while battered training dummies lined the edges like silent witnesses to countless strikes. Nearby, racks of wooden and blunted steel weapons stood at the ready, their worn handles telling stories of relentless practice. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, steel, and churned dirt.

  At the center of the arena, chaos unfolded. Four men battled a towering beast—a monstrous, bear-like creature, its matted fur barely concealing the raw muscle rippling beneath. Twice the size of a man, it moved with terrifying power, its claws carving deep trenches into the earth with every swipe. It lunged, maw snapping at the air, its bellow reverberating through the arena like a war drum.

  At the back of the fray, a knight clad in House Veridan's armor issued sharp commands. The recruits moved with frantic determination, their efforts barely keeping the beast at bay.

  "They're Otherworlders, with different origins" Elias noted. "Likely being tested for recruitment as mercenaries. Notice the small crowd gathered around? They're not just watching. This is an examination."

  The world inside the arena was different. The air itself felt heavier, charged with sweat, steel, and something deeper—an unrelenting demand for survival. Aysse’s eyes flickered across the field, tracing the way desperation shaped every movement, how strikes weren’t just practiced but carved from necessity. He wasn’t just seeing a battle; he was seeing a system that expected its fighters to become weapons, or be discarded.

  "They're resourceful," Elias continued, analytical. "But they lack coordination. In a world like this, every advantage counts."

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  Aysse's eyes drifted back to the colossal beast. "That bear... it's enormous. Are all creatures like that?"

  "This one's a Greater-Class Creature," Elias replied, his eyes glinting. "In Eurory, creatures are ranked based on their equivalence to independent Faery and abilities. The ranking goes like this:

  Lesser-Class: The weakest tier—newborn Faeries, ordinary feral beasts.

  Greater-Class: More dangerous—wild Faeries, dominant predators. That bear is an example.

  Grand-Class: Powerful beings—Grand Faeries, Titan Beasts.

  Elite-Class: Rare and deadly—Ancient Faeries, Curseborn Abominations.

  Exalted-Class: Bordering on myth—Celestial Faeries, Abyssborn Horrors.

  Arch-Class: Nearly unstoppable—Primordial Faeries, Wraithbound Leviathans.

  Overlord-Class: Legendary forces—Faery Overlords, Colossi, Abyssal Wraiths.

  Divine-Class: Gods in their own right—Faery God, The Curse itself."

  Elias exhaled. "The higher the class, the rarer they are—and the more impossible they are to fight. While this bear is formidable, it isn't the pinnacle of power. But it's still a serious challenge for anyone unprepared."

  Aysse considered that. "So, while the bear is dangerous, there are creatures far worse."

  "Exactly." Elias's tone was somber. "That's why training is critical. You must be ready for encounters with creatures of every class if you're to survive in Eurory."

  Aysse exhaled slowly, grounding himself in the present as the training fight raged on. "And if they fail?" he asked, though he already suspected the answer.

  Elias shrugged. "They either train harder, get reassigned, or... disappear into obscurity. Not everyone makes it."

  The battlefield roared with a cacophony of sound—metal clashing in violent rhythms, guttural growls that sent shivers down the spine, and bursts of concentrated Faeriar energy crackling through the air like living lightning. The ground trembled beneath the force of the battle, dirt and debris flying with each powerful movement. The bear's massive form pulsed with raw Faeriar, each strike releasing volatile bursts of power.

  Sir Veydran's deep voice rang out over the chaos. "Remember, recruits: Faeriar is power, but power without control is a death sentence," Sir Veydran’s voice cut through the din like a blade. "Use every chance to collect energy, but if you take too much, you freeze. If you burn through it too quickly, you collapse. I’ve seen both deaths, and neither is pleasant. Learn the balance now, or that bear will teach it to you the hard way."

  The recruits moved with careful calculation.

  He scanned his team as the recruits braced themselves. Each fighter had been trained to manage their limited $125 Faeriar cache—every skill came at a cost, pushing their Faery temperature to dangerous extremes if mismanaged.

  Recruit 1, the Rookie Striker, was first to engage. He launched a Simple Slash (costing roughly $27) at the bear's flank, his blade shimmering briefly as it was infused with a controlled burst of Faeriar energy. The slash cut into the bear's thick hide, releasing a spurt of energy that his Faery OS immediately began to harvest via indirect collection. His limited cache quivered with the newly absorbed energy as he adjusted his stance to avoid overcooling—a common risk when absorbing too much too quickly.

  At the same time, Recruit 2, the Defensive Enthusiast, met a sweeping claw with his Basic Shielding (set at $20 per minute), deflecting the blow. In fluid motion, he activated his Counter Block (around $47) when a glancing strike came his way. The counter redirected part of the bear's kinetic force back at it, and a faint aura of gathered Faeriar glowed around his arm—evidence of energy recycled through his maneuver.

  Recruit 3, the Balanced Fighter, stepped forward with measured precision. He unleashed a Standard Strike (costing $33) aimed at the creature's underbelly—a softer target where the beast's natural insulation was lower. Almost simultaneously, he executed a Minor Counter (around $17) when the bear attempted a retaliatory lunge. Each move was calculated not only to damage the beast but also to capture small bursts of Faeriar, replenishing his Faery OS just enough to keep his system stable.

  Meanwhile, Recruit 4, the Quick Striker, exploited his agility. Activating Agile Boost continuously at a low cost ($10 per minute), he zipped around the combat zone's periphery. With a well-timed Rapid Slash ($23) followed by a Swift Step ($33), he darted in to strike the bear's side before retreating—ensuring he never lingered long enough to risk overheating his energy reserves.

  As the recruits combined their assault, the bear staggered. Its massive form, though imbued with vast quantities of Faeriar, shuddered under the precision of coordinated strikes. With every hit, indirect collection of Faeriar from the creature's disrupted cellular structure occurred, its roars punctuating the cycle of energy exchange.

  Sir Veydran, ever the tactician, issued the final command. "Now, recruits—channel everything you have! Bring it down!"

  In unison, the fighters surged forward. The synchronized onslaught rocked the bear with another series of strikes—a combination of enhanced blade surges and adaptive counters. Faeriar flared between blows as the beast's internal equilibrium faltered. Its roar turned into a final, shuddering bellow as it collapsed heavily onto the training ground, part of its vast reserves of Faeriar scattering into the air—an indirect collection bonus for those who had fought it well. That creature possessed around 800 Faeriar; later, a specialized team would collect the remainder directly from its carcass.

  A tense silence followed the carnage, broken only by the combatants' labored breathing. Sir Veydran surveyed his team with a measured nod.

  "Excellent work. Today, you've learned that power isn't just about raw strength—it's about managing the very essence of our world. Every move, every harvested spark of Faeriar, must be carefully balanced. Too much can freeze you; too little leaves you defenseless."

  At that moment, as the dust settled and the lingering warmth of discharged Faeriar energy filled the air, Aysse and the recruits understood that mastery over Faeriar—and over themselves—was the key to survival in Eurory. The lessons learned on this training ground would serve them well in the challenges yet to come.