Abarith
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Chapter 19: Familiar Faces
🕑 Added 2024-11-22 05:54:30 +0000 UTCThe next day began with excitement as the group headed towards their first weaponry class—the only mandatory course at the academy, designed to make sure every student unlocks at least one weapon Skill . As such, while their previous dungeon delving class had smaller class sizes, this time everyone will be taking the class together.
As they stepped inside the training hall, they were greeted by a sleek, high-tech interior that was a far cry from the academy’s traditional looks. Transparent panels lined the walls, displaying rows upon rows of weapons—swords, spears, maces, axes, and even a few strange, exotic ones Jeremy couldn’t name. Holographic projections floated above each, giving animated demonstrations of techniques and strikes. Jeremy’s gaze lingered on the display, a mix of wonder and intimidation swelling within him. Stationed at intervals around the room were combat dummies designed to simulate real opponents and automatically repair themselves after each strike.
Nearby, Marcus looked just as impressed, and even Timothy, usually reserved, had a spark of excitement in his eyes. Jeremy glanced around the room and spotted a familiar red-haired figure—his brother, Andrew, standing off to the side. Jeremy grinned, motioning for his friends to follow. “Come on, let me introduce you to my brother.”
Andrew looked up as they approached, giving Jeremy and his friends a polite nod, though a flicker of something else—maybe a hint of bitterness—showed in his eyes.
“Andrew, meet Marcus, Perci, Mia, and Timothy,” Jeremy said.
“Nice to meet you all,” Andrew replied, keeping his tone friendly but reserved. He met Jeremy’s gaze, managing a faint smile. “Guess we’ll be in class together after all, huh?”
“Yeah, I didn’t realize we’d both have weaponry at the same time,” Jeremy replied, a hint of excitement in his voice. He glanced at Marcus with a grin. “Better watch out. My brother’s here to give us all some competition.”
Andrew rolled his eyes, shrugging. “I’m just here to learn. Same as everyone else.”
Before Jeremy could reply, movement at the front of the room caught his attention. Mr. Hendrikson stood there, adjusting a longsword at his waist. Jeremy nudged Andrew, eyes widening in surprise. “Wait… isn’t that—”
“Mr. Hendrikson?” Andrew finished, looking equally baffled.
Mr. Hendrikson smirked at their stares and clapped his hands to get the group’s attention. “Welcome to weaponry training, first years,” he called, his voice carrying easily across the room. “I’m Paul Hendrikson, and I’ll be your general weaponry instructor throughout your time at the academy.”
Jeremy’s shock deepened. He’d known Mr. Hendrikson was skilled—his father wouldn’t have trusted him otherwise—but he’d never thought of him as an academy-level instructor.
Hendrikson’s expression turned serious as he surveyed the room. “I see a few familiar faces looking a little shocked,” he began, one brow arched. “Maybe you’ve heard a story or two about me. They call me ‘The One-Man Legion’.”
A few students exchanged glances, intrigued.
“With a few well-chosen Skills, I’ve trained to Advanced with just about everything you see here,” he said, gesturing to the variety of weapons throughout the room. “Maybe not enough to single-handedly win a war, but more than enough to whip a bunch of brats like you into shape. Let’s just say I’ve got... ‘extra hands’ stationed across the universe, all hard at work.”
Mr. Hendrikson paused, scanning the eager faces, and with a subtle gesture, the room was instantly filled with identical versions of him, each one locking onto a student. Jeremy blinked as a clone materialized next to him, making him wonder which was the real Hendrikson.
“With these ‘extra hands’,” the first Mr. Hendrikson continued, his clones mirroring his movements, “you'll each receive personal instruction. I expect you all to pick up the basics quickly because I’ll be right here beside you, watching every move you make.”
Jeremy’s mind raced as he processed what he just saw. His father had mentioned Mr. Hendrikson’s Multitasking before, even calling it one of the highest rarities he knew of personally. He began to understand what his father had meant. Multiple clones of himself, all across the universe? Jeremy could hardly wrap his mind around it—this was on a whole other level.
“Let’s get into specifics,” Hendrikson continued, pacing in front of the class. “For this year, your goal is simple: you must unlock at least one weapon Skill to pass. Learning to use a single weapon, even at Basic, is crucial. But for those of you with greater ambitions…” His gaze settled on Jeremy and then drifted over the others, his eyes twinkling. “If you aim to be at the top of this class, there’s more to consider. As with all your other classes, the top achievers for the month will earn dungeon quotas. I will be judging you based on the rarity of your weapon Skill.”
Jeremy felt a buzz of excitement in the air as the other students murmured among themselves. Hendrikson raised a hand to quiet them.
“If there’s a tie, and more than one of you unlocks a weapon Skill of the same rarity, then you’ll settle it with a duel,” he said. “You’ll need skill, endurance, and grit if you want to claim the top spot. Just understand, the journey there will be anything but easy.”
Jeremy clenched his fists, a thrill rushing through him. This was his chance to prove himself, not just to his friends, but to himself as well.
As the students spread out across the expansive training hall, each clone of Mr. Hendrikson moved into place beside their assigned student, their focused gazes sweeping over the eager faces before them. The “One-Man Legion” was already at work, with every clone carrying the same confident stride and intense presence.
"So, Jeremy," the clone said casually, crossing his arms, "have you decided on a weapon?"
Jeremy felt his cheeks flush slightly under the clone’s stare. “Uh, well… I was thinking, maybe, I could learn all the weapons?”
The clone raised an eyebrow, amused. “All the weapons?” He let out a low chuckle. “Ambitious, aren’t you? But here’s some advice: master one weapon before dreaming about the rest. Or better yet—try being the top of the class first.”
Chastened, Jeremy nodded, swallowing back his retort. He quickly scanned the rows of weaponry displayed along the far wall. His gaze landed on the spear—its sleek, tapered blade reflecting the ambient light in the training hall.
“I’ll start with the spear,” he said firmly, meeting Hendrikson’s gaze.
The clone nodded approvingly. “Good choice. A spear requires balance, patience, and a lot of practice. Many think it’s only about thrusting, but you’ll find that every inch of it, from tip to shaft, can be a weapon.” He gestured for Jeremy to pick one up. It was heavier than he expected, and as he adjusted his grip, he felt his hand slip slightly along the smooth wood.
Mr. Hendrikson’s clone took hold of Jeremy’s shoulders, adjusting his stance until he was grounded. “First rule: don’t let the weapon control you. You control it. Now, bring it down into a guard stance.”
Jeremy followed the instructions, lowering the spear to shoulder height, his feet positioned wide for stability. The clone circled him, assessing each part of his form before making another adjustment to his grip and shoulder position.
“Now, thrust.”
Jeremy took a deep breath and thrust forward, his movements stiff and uncertain. The spear wobbled slightly in his hands, and the clone chuckled.
“It’s not a battering ram, Hoppins. Focus on fluidity, not brute force. Remember, the spear can be as much about precision as it is about power. And loosen up your grip; it should feel like an extension of you, not a broomstick.”
Jeremy nodded, trying again. With each attempt, he loosened his grip, focusing on control. His Multitasking kicked in, letting him divide his focus between his stance and the spear’s balance.
As he practiced, Jeremy glanced at his friends scattered throughout the hall. Marcus was nearby, wielding a sword with practiced ease under the guidance of another clone. Having already unlocked Swordsmanship, Marcus’s movements were smoother and more controlled, his swings landing with a confidence that made him stand out among the others. It was clear he was a step ahead, his strikes precise and fluid compared to Jeremy’s more hesitant moves.
Mia had chosen a bow, yesterday’s exhaustion seemingly forgotten as she drew back the string with surprising strength and focus, her eyes narrowing as she aimed. Timothy, on the other hand, worked with a hammer, each swing producing a distinct whooshing sound as he struggled to control its considerable weight.
Perci, however, had chosen something entirely different: daggers. Positioned near a series of training dummies, she practiced with two slender, sharp blades, her movements swift. She lunged in and out of the dummies’ range, each strike aiming for precision over brute force.
Just beyond them, Andrew practiced with a mace. Jeremy watched as his brother moved through basic strikes, his red hair falling into his eyes as he focused intently on his footwork. There was a familiar intensity in Andrew’s expression—a mix of determination and subtle frustration—that Jeremy recognized all too well.
As he watched his friends tackle their chosen weapons, Jeremy felt both inspired and slightly intimidated. The room pulsed with the sound of focused strikes and quiet murmurs. But when his own turn came, all his doubts faded as he fixed his grip on the spear, fully absorbed in Hendrikson's calm, patient instructions.
The clone stood by Jeremy, watching intently. “Now, I want you to work on balance. The spear is only as effective as your footing.”
Jeremy returned to his own practice, gradually feeling more at ease with the spear. The clone watched intently, offering calm, precise instructions. As Jeremy’s focus deepened, the hall’s sounds faded into the background.
After the intense training session, Hendrikson gathered the group back at the center of the hall. His clones seamlessly merged back into one, leaving the original standing before them with his arms crossed, scrutinizing the students.
“Listen up,” he called, his voice silencing the entire hall. “Starting next week, we’ll be having weekly duels as part of this class.”
Excitement rippled through the students, mingled with nervous whispers. Jeremy’s heart skipped a beat at the thrill of competition.
“These duels aren’t just to see who’s the strongest,” Hendrikson continued. “It’s to test your progress, your strategy, and your adaptability. In a duel, you’ll need more than just raw strength. You’ll develop your combat knowledge in these fights. Each of you will be paired with someone of similar skill, and as the weeks go on, the matches will become more challenging.”
Marcus’s eyes lit up at the mention of the duels, and he leaned over to Jeremy, whispering, “Finally, a chance to prove myself in front of everyone.”
Jeremy smirked, nudging him. “I think we’re all ready to give it a shot.”
Hendrikson raised a hand to quiet the chatter. “Let me make myself clear—these duels are mandatory. If you want to have a chance of unlocking a weapon Skill, you’ll need to demonstrate the ability to use your weapon against an actual opponent. I don’t care if you’re scared, if you feel underprepared, or if you’d rather be watching from the sidelines. You’ll be fighting.”
Jeremy glanced over at Andrew, who was watching him with a calm, steady look. His brother didn’t say anything, but the slight nod he gave was enough. It wasn’t just encouragement—it was a challenge, one that said, Show me what you’ve got.
“One last thing,” Hendrikson added, his gaze sweeping over the students. “These duels are not a free-for-all. You will fight with discipline and respect, following the rules I set. I’ll be watching each of you closely, and any lack of control will be met with consequences. Got it?”
A chorus of nods and affirmations spread through the hall. Jeremy clenched his hands around his spear, glancing around at his friends. They had expressions ranging from excitement to mild apprehension, but one thing was clear: they were all ready for the challenge.
As the class was dismissed, the group regrouped, buzzing with anticipation.
“Weekly duels,” Marcus said, grinning wide. “This is going to be awesome.”
“Awesome if you don’t get knocked flat on your back,” Perci teased, nudging him with her elbow.
Timothy, though quieter, managed a smile. “It’ll definitely help us improve. I mean, there’s no better way to learn than by sparring with someone who’s trying to beat you.”
Mia nodded, her earlier exhaustion forgotten. “I think it’ll be good for us. Besides, it’ll help with confidence in using our weapons.”
Andrew, standing slightly apart but listening intently, gave a small nod, his face thoughtful yet eager. “I’m looking forward to it too,” he said quietly.
As they left the hall, the upcoming challenge felt less daunting and more like an opportunity—a chance for each of them to prove their growing strength and skill.
