Chapter 20 Training Day (Or, How to Survive the Rangers)
Training started at dawn. Which meant the Rangers arrived at the inn at four in the morning, because to them, dawn was apparently a suggestion for lazy people.
Caspian was dragged from sleep by a hand gripping his collar and lifting him bodily from the bed. He flailed, grabbed his stick, and found himself staring into the amused face of Rina, the Ranger from before.
"Morning, sunshine. Time to earn your keep."
Tobin was already awake, mostly because he'd never actually gone to sleep. He'd been too nervous about "training with real Rangers" and had spent the night pacing and practicing spear forms in the dark. He looked exhausted but wired.
Elara was dressed and ready before anyone else, because she was Elara. Bulkan had somehow sensed them coming and was already standing by the door, fully armed. Fizzlewick was tangled in his blankets, spouting facts about REM sleep while half-conscious. Marnie emerged from the kitchen with a tray of breakfast rolls, because of course she'd been up for hours.
Boris snored through the entire commotion. No one had the heart to wake him.
The training grounds were outside the city walls—a sprawling complex of obstacle courses, combat rings, and areas that looked designed for specific types of violence. Other guild members were already there, running drills, sparring, pushing themselves.
Rina led them to a quieter section near the tree line. First Warden Kael waited there, leaning against a post, looking like he'd been there for hours.
"Gilded Fox." He nodded. "Welcome to your new life. It's going to hurt."
Tobin laughed nervously. "How much?"
"More than you think. Less than you deserve." Kael pushed off the post. "We have six months. Maybe less. In that time, I need to turn you into something useful. Not warriors—everyone's training warriors. I need something else."
He looked at each of them in turn.
"Tobin. You talk too much. That's actually useful. People underestimate talkers. They tell you things. They dismiss you. Use that. But your combat skills are one move and done. We're fixing that."
Tobin blinked. "You're... complimenting my talking?"
"I'm noting a strength. Don't get excited."
Kael moved on. "Bulkan. You hit hard. Then you sleep. That's a problem. We're building your stamina. You'll learn to pace yourself. To fight without emptying your well every time."
Bulkan grunted. It sounded like acceptance.
"Fizzlewick. Your facts are annoying. They're also valuable. We're training you to identify enemy weaknesses in real time. To shout the right thing at the right moment. Your brain is your weapon. Use it."
Fizzlewick beamed. "I have approximately 847 facts about monster vulnerabilities! I've been preparing for this my entire life!"
"That's the spirit. Now quiet."
Fizzlewick quieted.
Kael turned to Marnie. "You're the most interesting. A spoon with god-tier power and the calmest person I've ever met. We're not training you to fight. We're training you to survive. To keep that spoon safe. Because if you fall, that power falls with you."
Marnie nodded slowly. "I understand."
"Elara. You lead. Naturally, instinctively. That's rare. We're sharpening it. Strategy, tactics, reading situations. You'll coordinate this chaos."
Elara straightened. "I won't let them down."
"You won't." Kael finally faced Caspian. "And you. The variable."
Caspian waited.
Kael studied him for a long moment. "Your stick changes. You level fast. You have a system no one else can see. I don't fully understand you, and that bothers me. But it also means our enemies won't understand you either." He paused. "Your training is simple: push your limits. Find new forms. Learn to adapt instantly. The Rangers will throw things at you—monsters, traps, situations—and you'll figure it out. Every time."
"Figure it out or die?" Caspian asked.
Kael smiled. It wasn't comforting. "Usually both."
The first day was exactly as painful as promised.
Rina started Caspian on what she called "the basics," which turned out to be a series of increasingly absurd challenges designed to force his conduit to adapt.
First: cross a rope bridge while blindfolded. His stick became a yoyo, which was useless. Then a rope dart, which helped him feel the way. He made it across, barely.
Second: fight a training dummy that moved randomly. His pool noodle bounced off. His noisemaker did nothing. His rope dart tangled. He finally won by switching to stick form and simply whacking it repeatedly.
Third: survive in a pit with a small, angry creature that looked like a cross between a badger and a rock. Caspian cycled through every form, eventually discovering that the noisemaker's sound actually disoriented it. He escaped with only minor bites.
By evening, he was exhausted, bruised, and strangely satisfied.
The others had similar experiences. Tobin learned to pace his spear strikes, using normal attacks until the right moment for his powered thrust. Bulkan ran laps until he collapsed, then ran more. Fizzlewick was tested on identifying monster tracks, which he did with terrifying accuracy. Marnie practiced hiding, moving silently, and protecting her spoon from simulated theft attempts.
Elara ran strategy drills, directing imaginary squads through crisis scenarios.
They met at the inn that night, too tired to speak. Marnie served dinner. Everyone ate in grateful silence.
Boris, who had spent the day at the tavern, looked at them with something like pride. "Survived day one?"
Barely, Caspian's expression said.
"Good. Day two is worse."
It was.
The weeks blurred together.
Training became routine. Wake at four. Run to the grounds. Train until noon. Eat quickly. Train until sunset. Collapse. Repeat.
Caspian lost count of how many times he fell, failed, got back up. His forms became faster, smoother. He could switch between them without thinking. He discovered new tricks—the yoyo could wrap around small objects, the rope dart could anchor him to walls, the noisemaker could mimic specific sounds if he concentrated.
< Level Up! >
< Current Level: 10 >
< New Form Unlocked: Slingshot >
The slingshot was perfect. Ranged, precise, and with Aether infusion, it could hit harder than anything physical. Caspian practiced until he could hit a moving target from fifty feet.
< Level Up! >
< Current Level: 11 >
< New Form Unlocked: Bo Staff >
The staff was simple but effective. Longer reach, better defense. He trained with it against Rina's blades, learning to parry and counter.
< Level Up! >
< Current Level: 12 >
< New Form Unlocked: Climbing Claws >
The claws attached to his hands and feet, letting him scale walls and trees. Perfect for the kind of missions Kael described.
Months passed. Six became five. Five became four.
The rifts worsened. News arrived daily of monster attacks, villages lost, borders breached. The war was coming faster than anyone predicted.
But the Gilded Fox grew stronger.
Tobin could now use his spear's power strike twice before exhausting. Bulkan could fight for an hour before needing rest. Fizzlewick's facts saved them in training more times than anyone counted. Marnie moved like a ghost, her spoon ready, her presence calming.
Elara's strategies grew sharper, more creative. She anticipated problems before they happened.
And Caspian...
Caspian had become something else. Level 12. Seven forms. A connection to the Glimmer that let him sense rifts before they opened. A reputation among the Rangers as the weirdest trainee they'd ever seen.
One evening, Kael called him aside.
"You're ready," the First Warden said. "All of you. The council is meeting tomorrow. They have a mission. First real assignment."
Caspian's heart rate picked up. "What kind of mission?"
"A rift. Deeper than any we've seen. Near Oakhaven." Kael's eyes were grim. "Your home. They want you to close it."
Caspian stared at him. "Close a rift? That's possible?"
"The Glimmer makes it possible. Marnie's spoon, your connection, the whole package." Kael paused. "It's dangerous. Probably suicidal. But if you succeed, it changes everything."
Caspian thought about Oakhaven. About the tavern. About everyone counting on them.
"We'll do it."
Kael nodded slowly. "I know. That's what scares me."
That night, Caspian gathered the guild. He told them everything.
Silence. Then Tobin grinned.
"Close a rift? Save our home? Sounds like a normal Tuesday for the Gilded Fox."
Bulkan grunted agreement.
Fizzlewick consulted his tome. "Theoretical probability of success: 23%. But we've beaten worse odds."
Marnie touched her spoon. It glowed warmly.
Elara looked at Caspian. "Together?"
"Together."
They clasped hands—all of them, in a circle, ridiculous and determined.
Tomorrow, they'd face a rift.
Tonight, they were family.