Comrades in Training

On the other side of the world—far from the forest shadows where Rioshi was battling for survival—his classmates were experiencing a very different kind of ordeal.

In the heart of the kingdom of Aerith, these summoned students were placed under the strict supervision of the realm’s high-ranking officials. Each one had been transported from their old world and thrown into a whirlwind of intense, personalized training. The stakes were high: the kingdom was under threat, and only those who adapted quickly would be able to protect it—or survive within it.

Ancient scrolls and arcane relics were used to awaken dormant powers. Combat instructors and magical scholars trained the students relentlessly in the arts of battle, sorcery, and agility. There was no room for weakness. Day after day, the students were pushed to their limits, forced to grow into something more.

Among them, one stood out—not for his strength, but for his arrogance.

Kaneshiro Daisuke carried himself like a man destined to rule. Since the day he stepped into Aerith, he had declared, without the slightest hint of doubt, that he was the chosen one—the future hero.

Tall, confident, and pampered by what could only be described as a privileged upbringing, he was always the first to speak and the last to listen.

"Hey, you over there! Only I can lead this team to victory!" he'd shout, puffing out his chest as he challenged classmates in the sparring grounds. He trained obsessively, as if each strike and every spell cast was a proclamation of his superiority.

To some, he was an inspiration. To others, a walking headache.

The growing tension among the students was palpable. Whispers began to spread—was Daisuke’s strength real, or was it all just noise? Did he have what it took to be a true hero... or was he just playing the role?

Far from the training fields, in the inner sanctum of the Temple of Aerith, High Priestess Eltheria stood before a gathering of deities and council members. Their faces were solemn, their attention fixed on her.

Eltheria, ever calm, with eyes like ancient stars, broke the silence.

“One is missing,” she said, her voice composed yet weighted. “We’ve welcomed nearly all the transferred students… but one never arrived.”

The room grew tense.

“Rioshi Takeda… there is no trace of him.”

The deities stirred. Even among the divine, concern was spreading.

“I ensured every student was granted their abilities,” she continued, “and yet, none bear the mark of the Évolis. Not even Kaneshiro Daisuke.”

A deep voice echoed through the chamber. “Are you certain he wasn’t the one chosen?”

Eltheria shook her head. “No. Despite his potential, the Évolis rejected him. I’ve reviewed each student... and only one fits the prophecy. Rioshi Takeda.”

She paused, then added, “We failed to locate him. But I believe... his powers have already awakened. And he’s walking his path—alone.”

The council turned grave. One robed figure, his voice like gravel, spoke next.

“You're correct. Rioshi was meant to inherit the Évolis. But the transfer did not go as planned. He was sent to a place far beyond our reach. Dangerous. Isolated. But this is not a mistake—it is his trial. One that will shape him.”

A younger, female voice chimed in.

“It’s unclear what he’s becoming. But perhaps this... hardship is what he needs to unlock the truth within him. He must grow alone, on his own terms.”

Eltheria frowned. Her serene facade cracked with concern.

“But why him?” she asked quietly. “Why a boy so withdrawn... so lost? Why not Daisuke, who embodies every heroic ideal we know?”

An old council member smiled knowingly.

“Because true heroes rarely look the part. The Évolis chooses not based on strength or popularity, but on hidden potential. It chooses those burdened by their own silence—those who rise not for glory, but because they must.”

Far from the shining halls and holy judgments, Rioshi Takeda stood alone at the edge of a quiet glade. His pack was modest, filled with hard-earned spoils and a few useful relics. But his heart beat with something new—a sense of clarity.

It was time to evolve.

He’d survived this long on raw instinct, learning to absorb mana and physical traits from the creatures he fought. His system—the Évolis—had granted him enhanced strength, speed, and resilience. But it wasn’t enough. Not for what was coming.

He opened the system’s interface. His mana pool had stabilized, but it left him drained more quickly. His physical growth was steady, yet he realized something vital was missing.

Magic.

He needed to learn magic—not just brute spells, but techniques of healing, shielding, and long-range attacks.

One creature came to mind: a minor mountain dragon. He had only glimpsed it from afar, but its fiery aura and immense power were unmistakable. If he could learn from such a beast, the knowledge and magic it held could propel him to the next level.

And so, Rioshi set out once more.

The journey was not kind. As he ventured into the perilous regions of Lorthan, the monsters grew fiercer, the terrain more treacherous. But Rioshi pressed on. Each challenge was a lesson. Every battle a mirror reflecting his weaknesses—and his growth.

“This world isn’t meant for the weak,” he told himself. “There’s no turning back.”

He pushed forward.

And then, at last, he saw it.

High atop a rocky ledge, bathed in the golden glow of a setting sun, loomed the dragon. Massive and proud, its scales shimmered like molten metal. Heat radiated from its body like a living furnace, its breath pulsing with barely-contained flame.

Rioshi stared, unmoving. He felt fear—but also a strange sense of belonging.

This dragon was more than a foe. It was a key. A challenge. A rite of passage.

The beast spread its wings with a mighty roar, the ground trembling beneath its weight.

Rioshi clenched his fists, his eyes narrowing.

He didn’t know if he’d win. He didn’t know what awaited on the other side.

But he knew one thing for sure:

This battle would define him