SWNOVELXO Chapter 6: Understanding the System
Instructor Morten had a presence like an avalanche. Towering, broad, and brimming with contained power, he gave feedback with minimal words and a tone that rumbled through your bones.
"Fallow. Decent movement. Poor discipline. You rely too much on instinct, not enough on foundation. But the potential's there."
I managed a nod through my heavy breathing. My shirt clung to my back, sweat stung my eyes, and I was sure my arms were going to fall off.
Velora received no comments. Just a curt nod from Morten, which for him might as well have been a standing ovation.
After cooldown stretches, our class was split off and rotated between several courses. First up: tactics theory.
We filed into a sandstone building shaped like an octagon, each wall adorned with banners of past battles and training formations. Master Theren greeted us at the front—loud, animated, with a booming voice that somehow made the diagrams on the wall more exciting than they had any right to be.
"Tactics ain't just about the blade! It's about knowing where the blade should be! It's about movement, terrain, timing, and trust! You fight a monster, you're a fool. You fight a monster with a plan, you're a survivor!"
He barked questions mid-lecture, pointing to random students, sometimes hurling chalk at those who drifted off. I got hit once. I deserved it.
Then came history class, held beneath a vaulted ceiling strung with hanging globes and map-scrolls. Mistress Silvarin, soft-spoken and graceful, began her lecture in tones so gentle they lulled us into false security—until her passion ignited. At the mention of ancient wars or the rise and fall of noble houses, her voice rang with fire.
"The fall of House Ashren led to a cascade of regional unrest. House Elowen nearly fractured in response, and the supposed destruction of House Vale marked the end of an age." Her voice dropped again. "Or so we believed."
I stiffened. Lucien Vale. The name echoed faintly in my mind. I didn't say anything. But I remembered the way he moved. The swordplay. The grace.
Could there be a connection?
I didn't know.
Next came basic physical conditioning. Running. Lifting. Drills. It was brutal—but in a straightforward way. Just you, your limits, and the push past them. We ran circuits around the training ground, carried sandbags up hills, and held planks until our arms shook. The instructors ran us through an intense battery of strength and endurance work: push-ups until our shoulders burned, sit-ups with a weighted pack across our chests, chin-ups on iron bars slick with sweat.
We sprinted sprints in bursts—short, explosive dashes—followed by longer laps that tested our stamina. Between sets, we cycled through basic lifts with iron weights: lateral raises to build shoulder control, bent rows to fortify our backs, and even bench presses—incline, decline, and flat—rotating between them to build full-body strength.
And then came the most painful part: body hardening drills. We stood in pairs and exchanged controlled strikes to the arms, chest, legs—fists, elbows, even light shin checks. A mock version of fisticuffs designed to condition nerves and build resilience. Every hit made my bones buzz, but the goal wasn't pain—it was durability. Sharpening the body like steel in a forge.
Somewhere in the middle of it all, as sweat poured and lungs burned:
Ding.
> [Training Progress Logged]
+1 Strength
+1 Stamina
It felt earned.
But the last class of the day was the one that lingered.
Aura Theory.
Master Eryn—tall, sharp-eyed, her cloak dragging like shadows behind her—led the session in a circular amphitheater. She paced slowly as she spoke.
"Aura," she said, "is not fire, nor light, nor spirit. It is potential. Latent energy forged by will, discipline, and presence. It exists in all of you. Dormant. Waiting."
She stepped into the center and raised her hand. The air shimmered. A pressure radiated outward—not burning, not blinding—but undeniable. Like the moment before a storm breaks.
"To wield aura is not to cast it," she said. "It is to refine yourself until aura chooses to answer."
Her eyes swept over the class.
Ding.
> [System Update: Aura Detection Unlocked]
Aura: 0
I stared at the prompt.
Aura: 0.
Not N/A. Not unavailable.
Just... zero.
That meant it could change.
And for the first time since arriving at the Bastion, I knew what I wanted.
I wanted it to change.
---
That evening, after dinner and a short rest, I found a quiet corner behind one of the old training buildings. The sky above the Bastion had turned violet-blue, stars winking into existence.
I drew my training blade and stood in silence. Then I began to move.
Every swing, every pivot, was an echo of something I'd seen. Lucien's footwork—fluid, sharp, purposeful. Velora's precision, her stillness between strikes. Morten's blunt corrections. Eryn's philosophy of refinement. I tried to gather them all, shape them into something that felt like my own.
In my head, it flowed like a painting. In reality... it stumbled. Sloppy stances. Misplaced weight. The blade dragging when it should've sung.
But I kept going.
Step. Strike. Pivot. Breathe.
Ding.
[Training Progress Logged] +1 Sword Proficiency
I exhaled, breath fogging faintly in the night air. My shoulders ached. My hands trembled.
I wasn't good yet. Not even close.
But I had begun.
And that was enough—for now.
Later that night, after my secret training in the only secluded spot I'd found within the Bastion, I sat beneath the gnarled shadow of an old tree just outside the dormitories. My legs still burned from the hill sprints. My arms ached from lifting what might as well have been iron boulders. And Mistress Eryn's words echoed in my mind like a bell struck too hard—resonating long after the sound should've faded.
Aura.
Potential.
Refinement.
I exhaled slowly, rolling my shoulders to loosen them up. My training sword rested across my lap.
Ding.
> [Milestone Reached: Sword Proficiency 5]
System Threshold Achieved. Unlocking System Window…
Stat Prompts: Disabled
Quest Tracking: Enabled
Experience System: Active
Skill Subcategories: Unlocked
Opening System Window…
My eyes widened.
It didn't feel like anything—not like the usual rush of strength or clarity. But something inside me shifted. A deeper awareness. A layer of the system that had been just out of reach… now within it.
A translucent panel appeared in my mind's eye—sharper than before. Not a mere floating prompt, but a full screen, hovering just above my vision like parchment made of light.
---
> [Status Menu – Open]
Name: Joren Fallow
Class: Initiate (Verdant Bastion)
Sword Proficiency: 5
Strength: 6
Endurance: 7
Agility: 6
Intelligence: 6
Reflex: 1
Stamina: 1
Aura: 0
Health: 100 / 100
Experience (XP): 0 / 100
Level: 1
Skill Slots: 0
└─ [Basic Sword Art]: Locked
System Functions:
└─ Stat Growth via Prompts: Disabled
└─ Quest Tracking: Enabled
└─ Manual Training Gains: Limited (Sword Only)
└─ Skill Acquisition: Through Quests, Combat, or Study
└─ Health HUD Overlay: Toggleable — Displays real-time HP during combat and damage taken per strike
└─ EXP Tracker Overlay: Toggleable — Displays current EXP gain in real-time
---
A mix of thrill and dread settled over me. No more stat boosts from push-ups and parries. No more tidy +1 popping up during drills. Now, if I wanted to grow… I had to earn it.
Really earn it.
But just as the thought crossed my mind:
Ding.
> [Quest Available]
Name: First Steps Forward
Objective: Study aura theory independently and attempt to circulate internal aura
Reward: +25 XP
Optional Bonus: Record results in training journal — Bonus: +10 XP
Accept this Quest?
[Yes] / [No]
I stared at it for a long moment, heart thudding.
The old me might've hesitated. Might've picked "no" and gone back to bed.
But I wasn't the same boy who'd arrived here days ago, trembling and unsure.
I pressed [Yes].
And the real work began.
The panel faded from my mind's eye, leaving a slight afterglow—like I'd stared at the sun too long. I leaned back against the tree, the bark rough through my training shirt. The Bastion was quiet now, save for the distant call of nightbirds and the faint hum of ward lights buzzing along the upper walls.
A shuffle of boots behind me broke the silence.
I turned.
Cale.
He stood at the edge of the clearing, arms crossed, golden hair catching the starlight in strands. His uniform jacket hung open, damp with sweat, as if he'd been running—or pacing.
He didn't say anything at first. Just looked at me. At the sword across my lap. At the faint scuff marks in the dirt from my practice.
Finally, he spoke. "You've gotten better."
I blinked. "Thanks?"
He took a step forward, jaw tight. "Back in Ashfall… you couldn't even hold a sword right. You flinched when you swung."
"I still flinch sometimes," I muttered, rubbing the ache from my forearm. "I just swing faster now."
That earned a snort. But it wasn't a friendly one. Cale's brows furrowed. "Everyone keeps saying you're catching up. That you've got potential. But I've been training my whole life. I should be ahead of you by miles."
I looked up at him. His hands were clenched. Not at me—but at himself.
"You are ahead," I said, honest. "You're still stronger. Smarter with the blade. I just… don't have the same expectations weighing me down."
He looked like he wanted to argue. But the fire in his eyes flickered.
"I froze during the attack," he said quietly. "You didn't."
"I was terrified."
"But you still moved."
Silence fell between us. Not heavy, but real.
Then he turned. "Just don't slow down."
I raised a brow. "Was that… encouragement?"
He didn't answer—just threw a tired wave over his shoulder and walked off into the dark.
---
A few minutes later, just as I was about to resume practice, a soft voice cut through the air.
"You swing with your elbows too much."
I spun—more surprised than alarmed.
Velora.
She stood a few paces away, arms crossed, hair tied back, her posture as flawless as ever. Moonlight caught the angles of her face, and for a second she looked less like the unshakable sword princess… and more like someone trying not to admit they were curious.
I lowered my sword. "And you walk like someone who's been watching longer than they want to admit."
She stiffened slightly. "I was on patrol."
"At this hour? In this exact corner of the Bastion?" I smirked. "Very convenient."
She opened her mouth. Closed it. Color touched her cheeks. "I was… passing by."
"Right."
She stepped forward, inspecting the ground where I'd been training. "You're trying to copy Master Vale's footwork."
I hesitated. "Not copying. Studying."
"…It doesn't suit you yet," she said, but there wasn't any malice in it. "Your frame's different. Your balance is off. But… the effort is commendable."
"That's the nicest insult I've ever received."
Velora looked at me like I'd grown a second head. Then, quickly, she turned.
"I should go."
"You're already here," I called. "You might as well spar."
She hesitated at the edge of the training ground.
"…Another time," she said, before vanishing into the night with the kind of poise that made me feel like a drunken goat by comparison.
I stared after her for a moment, then chuckled and turned back to my blade.
---
> System prompt detected heightened emotional response. Logging relationship progress…
Ding.
> [Relationship Progress Logged]
Cale Rennar: Rivalry Deepened – +5 XP
Velora Thorne: Noticed Your Effort – +3 XP
I stared at the fading system prompt.
"...What?"
I blinked. Once. Twice. The words were still there—faintly glowing, hovering at the edge of my vision like afterimages burned onto my retinas. XP from talking to people?
"Wait… what?"
I sat down hard, nearly dropping my training sword. The bark of the tree dug into my spine, but I didn't even feel it.
Quests made sense. Training made sense. Dodging blades and getting stronger, sure. But this?
"That wasn't a quest," I muttered aloud. "That was just… life."
I rubbed my face, suddenly aware of how flushed I felt. My cheeks were warm. Not from embarrassment—well, okay, maybe a little—but mostly from bafflement.
"System," I whispered. "What do you want from me?"
No response.
Of course.
Still, the prompt hadn't vanished yet. The XP value next to my name in the status menu had increased.
> Experience (XP): 8 / 100
I stared at the number like it might rearrange itself into something that made more sense.
So let me get this straight.
Sword swings? XP.
Push-ups until my arms go numb? XP.
Heart-to-heart talks and getting mocked by Velora Thorne under moonlight?
...Also XP.
I let out a soft, disbelieving laugh. "That's ridiculous."
But even as I said it, part of me felt something click. Not a mechanical whir or magical rush—just a quiet realization, like stepping onto solid ground I hadn't noticed before.
This system—my system—wasn't just tracking strength or technique.
It was tracking me.
My growth. My resolve. My relationships. My choices.
Not just what I did, but why I did it.
I leaned my head back against the tree and stared up at the stars scattered across the Bastion sky.
"…Guess I'll have to start keeping an eye on more than just sword forms."
Ding.
> System Tip: Relationship progress can yield bonus XP when tied to growth, emotion, or challenge. Bonds matter.
I blinked at that last line.
Bonds matter.
Yeah.
Yeah, they do.