Mentor

At that moment, I stood before a robotic dummy. The AR system hovered in front of me, prompting me to set the difficulty level. Geralt told me to choose the most difficult setting. At first, I hesitated—but if I wanted to improve, I had no choice.

I'd been training under him for many years. Therefore, I was mentally prepared for the difficult level.

I pulled my smooth, fluffy, thick, blonde hair back and tied it with a string so it wouldn't block my vision.

The moment I set it to the highest difficulty, everything happened in an instant. With a blink, a powerful electromagnet force slammed me backward, and I felt a light attack strike my stomach. It still hurt—painful in a way I couldn't trace, like an invisible punch. After all, the point of this entire training was to sharpen my five senses.

Damn it. I'd been hit immediately after I started.

At the same time, I noticed Geralt watching me—frowning, his analytical eyes fixed on my every movement. I couldn't let him down now.

I deliberately let myself take several hits. Eventually, I spotted the pattern and raised my hand to guard my chest. The "invisible punch" landed on my hand instead, and the system didn't register it as a hit.

The next punch came fast. I used my ears to listen to the wind, felt the sudden shift in the air around me, and knew it was coming from my right side—aimed at my cheek. Without hesitation, I lifted my hand to block the strike.

I kept blocking every attack for several minutes, and my intuition predicted each punch before it landed.

Then Geralt clapped once, and the training abruptly stopped. The dummy dimmed and entered sleep mode.

"If this were a real person, you'd be knocked out in the first round," Geralt said. "But you did well—especially once you figured out the pattern." He patted my back.

"Thanks," I replied.

"Still," he continued, "always assume you're at a disadvantage. Be on guard and on defense before the real fight even begins. Then adapt step by step as the battle unfolds."

My body was soaked in sweat, but it didn't bother me. I was used to it. I'd prepared a fresh set of clothes in advance—packing them in my backpack the day before.

"Next training: fifty push-ups, fifty squats, and fifty jumps." He clapped his hands after giving the instructions.

I caught my breath for a moment, then dropped to the ground. I lowered myself and repeatedly pushed back up, counting every rep until I hit fifty. Immediately afterward, I did fifty squats and fifty jumps. It was basically a daily routine for me, so I was already comfortable doing it back-to-back.

When I finished, I sat on the floor and breathed heavily. As I glanced toward the glassy window on the mezzanine floor, an intermediate floor in a building that sits between the main floors and is typically open to the floor below. I noticed the same slender-figured girl with short brown hair—still watching me closely in another room.

I felt like she was stalking me....or perhaps she was looking at Geralt.

Geralt then snapped his finger, causing me to return to the present. He then initiates our next training, with boxing gloves in his hand.

"Now this is the real deal; if you manage to land three hits on me, that means you have improved and proved yourself worthy to me as my student." He stated.

I stood up with a calm mind to make sure I was prepared for what was to come.

Then without even counting, he sprinted to me and threw his left hand at me with such velocity and force. I cautiously raised my right arm to flinch back from his attack, but I could feel a sore on my arm as well.

So this was the true strength of Geralt!

Without even a warning, he swiftly lifted his right leg to kick me; fortunately, I evaded the kick on time as I jumped backward.

Geralt said, "That is a mistake!"

He then jumped and turned his entire body backward with another kick above my head; this old man was trying to kill me for real!

I crossed my arms to block the kick, but it was too forceful and made me bend my knee and lower my body. Then he landed back on the ground and swung his punch into my shoulder, catching me off guard.

After that, he managed to punch me in the stomach karate-style, causing me to cough with silva spit out from my mouth.

"You need to take this seriously, Einsamer," Geralt remarked.

I was being punched from left and right with such incredible speed that I couldn't block all of my mentor's attacks, but then I remembered the fight I had against the statues of the demon lord in the world of dawn.

If I were always on the defensive, I wouldn't be able to land any attack. Therefore, I must adapt and stop gathering information and patterns. I must not be afraid of being hurt; this was my only chance to catch him off guard.

But the problem is if I expose my vulnerable spot to him, I might get knocked out in a short time. Fuck this shit, I must fight back now; there was no point in doubting myself.

At first, I started to deflect his attack. Geralt didn't flinch and quickly regained his attacking stance and was about to aim for my cheek this time.

Instead of blocking his attack with my arm, I poured all my strength into my left arm and threw a punch straight at his chest—so fast it felt instantaneous. Both of us connected, but I was the one thrown backward, and I ended up with a nosebleed.

Shit—he was really serious about this fight.

"Come on, Einsamer! You can't just sacrifice yourself to land some childish punch on me!"

My punch didn't even make him flinch. How strong was this old man?

Thanks to his training, I managed to block most of his attacks. If I hadn't been under his guidance, I would've been down already. It also seemed like I'd improved over the past few years—because right now I'd managed to land one hit on him.

But I needed two more.

Geralt shifted into a karate stance: his left foot forward, his right foot slightly back, and his body lowering slowly.

"Isn't this supposed to be a kickboxing match?" I asked, frowning as I wiped the blood leaking from my nose.

"In real life, no one plays by the rules. You need to learn how to defend yourself—even if you're a good person. Let GOD judge those who harm you. Remember: you have no enemy. Let God decide who is your enemy, and let those fools face His wrath." Geralt said, his voice serious.

God… huh. If He truly existed, He wouldn't allow suffering in the first place. Of course, I wouldn't say that out loud to his face. He was my mentor.

"You contradict yourself," I said, frowning. "If God decides, then why do I have to fight? And how the hell am I supposed to protect myself if someone decides to be my enemy?"

"Because you have the right to protect what you love—and to conquer your oppressor," Geralt replied. "But you also have to face your own accountability."

Fair point… better to be a warrior in a gardener, not a gardener in war. Probably.

He stepped forward, drew his punching arm back, bent his elbow, and drove his fist forward at extreme speed to generate raw power. I was still kneeling, so I jumped backward to avoid his strike.

But he changed instantly—slipping into a Taekwondo stance and launching a kick at my shoulder. It slammed me to the ground and left me with a severe injury.

At that time I realized I wouldn't beat him with my experience in hand-to-hand combat, it would be another story if I could use my skills in real life as a ranker.

"I give up!" I raised my hand.

Geralt shook his head, moved closer, and threw another punch at me. I flipped backward to dodge it.

"I got you!" I said with a grin.

I knew he wouldn't let me quit. I only said it to get under his skin—so he'd push harder and make a mistake. I bent my knee to build momentum, then sprang at him as he stumbled off-balance.

When he tried to punch me as I closed the distance, I caught him and hugged him tightly, forcing him down. Then I secured him and wrapped my arm around his head while pinning his right arm—bending it slightly to control him without breaking anything.

"Very smart," he said with a grin. "If only I didn't know how to counter your attack."

This old man was as crafty as a wise wolf.

With sheer strength, he forced himself upright using only his feet, his body still slightly lifted off the ground—was this man a monster?

Then he shouted and swung his arms, driving me back until I hit the wall. Pain shot through me and I let out a low growl.

I pushed back up and tried to bring him down with a front headlock, but he simply evaded me. I lost my footing and crashed to the ground again.

"You did well," Geralt said. "You passed my final test."

"What?" I stared at him, stunned. "I only managed to land one hit on you…"

"W-What are you talking about?" I stuttered as I stood up, trying to catch my breath.

Geralt tossed me a can of Nedro spray. It had a healing effect and helped reduce the pain. I immediately pulled off my shirt and lightly sprayed it over my injury.

"If I were anyone else," he said, "my arms would've been broken. So you did great—but it's still reckless."

He sighed and started up the stairs back to the main hall. Then I followed and asked him, "Is this our last training?"

He shook his head and replied, "I'll teach you how to control your emotions. Meet me at the artificial garden two days from now."

Then he went upstairs and passed through the door. I was left alone with sweat and wounds all over my body. Thanks to the Nedro spray, the pain gradually eased. Now I needed to take a shower and change into a fresh set of clothes.

Out of curiosity, I glanced up at the mezzanine-floor window. The short brown-haired girl was gone. Maybe she'd been watching Geralt instead of me. Well, he was cool and collected and also wise...I was sure many young girls took interest in him.

If she were interested in me, I wouldn't mind asking her out for dinner when I had time.

I went to pick up my backpack and took a brief look at the city landscape through the panoramic window, then I went upstairs. People were looking at me and some old men even said to Geralt that he went hard on me, some even questioned did he intentionally trained me to compete in our school kickboxing tournament, but he refused and said it was just for my self-defense.

Before I left the boxing facility, I approached Geralt and properly said goodbye to him. Afterward, I left the building and headed toward the public bathroom building located near a basketball court. Two separate bathrooms were built for females and males specifically.

I entered the male bathroom; there were three floors, and each floor contained different kinds of baths, like a sauna, swimming pool, water diving, skiing on water, water slide, etc. However the ground floor just consisted of a normal bath, I went to one of the lockers and obtained the temporary QR code for this locker.

I brought out a new set of T-shirts and trousers, and then I put my backpack into the locker. Before entering the bathroom, I also paid for a clean towel at one vending machine. When I entered the shower room, there was even a small pool just for me. But I didn't have time for that, so I just removed my clothes and showered normally.

The moment the cold water hit my scalp and ran down my body to the floor, memories of this morning flooded back.

From the moment I woke up, I'd had a strange dream. And even in the short time between school, I'd spent it playing TWOD. That's when I encountered a demon lord in the hidden quest alongside Lasiv, not just an NPC but a real sentient being—and the destruction of the "Indestructible Tower of Eternia." It ended with real-life injuries for players.

A vision of Lasiv's companion flashed through my mind.

She appeared briefly—along with a bulky, tall man with black skin, curly hair, and a confident grin, wearing a black shirt and trousers. Then came the other figure: a mysterious man with red eyes and long dark hair, as if he were a grim reaper itself. And there was Lasiv—beautiful, long purple hair, her soft yet cunning smile unmistakable. Her purple eyes held an entire world of mystery.

It felt like everything was just a dream.

Was it a coincidence? Or was something bigger—something I can't possibly understand—at work here?

I knew I wouldn't have the answer, but it felt suffocating to ignore it. After all, I value a laid-back and ordinary life, and that event messed with my sense of reality.