Khagnio’s idea was to drag me to the undercity with him to “deal a massive blow” to the gang called the Roaring Claws. He didn’t bother explaining why exactly he and they were enemies, and curious though I was, it wasn’t important.

What was important was the job. Apparently, I was going to participate in my first-ever heist.

And that little trip into the undercity was going to feed into Ugnash’s plan.

Not yet though. Khagnio had a few preparations to make, and Ugnash was going to scout the Adventurer’s Guild. We would commence operations later in the week.

So, for the next few days, I once again spent time training. The difference from previous instances was that this time, I wasn’t training myself.

Instead, I was training the cohort of Scarthralls who had agreed to become adventurers.

“I’m not so sure about this…” said a guy called Sigrouen.

Vandre gave him a fortifying smile. “Cheer up!” He turned that smile to me, and it grew wider too. “We’re in good hands. Right, Cultist Ross?”

I took a quick breath. “I’m here to help, yes. It’s normal for not everybody to feel the same way, and you’re free to leave if you’d like, but if you stay, then please give it your all. We want to maximize what you’re capable of. That’s the best way to combat the dangers presented by dungeons and other adventuring jobs.”

Regardless of their feelings on the matter, they looked at me with complete, rapt attention. I swallowed.

This was the first time I was seriously teaching anyone anything. Did I even deserve to be doing so? I myself was spending so much time learning about everything to do with the Weave from people like Kostis and Gutran, from things like the Mage Guild classes. How effectively could I even help anyone else when my own knowledge base hadn’t solidified yet?

But it made me think of an earlier issue. A while back, I had struggled against the idea of effectiveness. I had recalled how the ability to make meaningful change was so difficult back on Earth. It was hard to remind myself that every little bit always helped.

I had promised myself that I wasn’t going to fall into the same way of thinking here in Zairgon. On Ring Four, the fact that all sorts of effort mattered, big or small, was magnified several times, especially because of my growing power and influence. Just as Hamsik had pointed out, I had started with nothing, but now, I was the leader of the Sun Cult and had the ear of Councillors.

Now more than ever, I could make meaningful change. There was absolutely no reason for the mentality I had back on Earth to start poisoning my mind here on Ephemeroth too.

That’s what I told myself when I faced the new Sun Cult initiates before me. It didn’t matter how much I still lacked, how much there was left for me to learn and discover, how much further I could grow.

I already had experience and knowledge, and they were worth sharing.

The first day, we didn’t actually do any intensive training. I was mostly busy giving them all one-on-one time to learn what their names were and how they felt about adventuring.

There was Vandre of course, and he was eager to explore everything his Path of the Bloodforged Strength could offer him. To that end, he was keen on getting started on the actual adventuring, as he had apparently heard that fighting was one of the key ways of ranking up.

“Well, that’s not untrue,” I said. “But you’re going to run out of things to fight at some point. What I’m saying is that fighting and adventuring is all well and good, but it’s not a substitute for actually training and ranking up that way.”

Vandre nodded seriously. “Right, of course.”

While he was the only one with a Unique Path and an Aspect that sounded somewhat magical, some of the others made up for the lack of magic with their personality.

Lujean, a tall and ferocious Scarthrall, was very eager to get started on everything about the whole business, from adventuring, to training, to even doing the nitty gritty things like getting a bank account to transfer his funds to and registering as an official adventurer.

He reminded me a little of myself. I had gone about even the small things like that with decent enough enthusiasm because they were all important stepping stones.

Jalais was a Scarthrall who wasn’t as enthused about the whole business as the others. If I was being perfectly honest, I figured he had been pulled here more by the pressure from his peers. Even if I had mentioned that everyone was free to leave, he didn’t look like he was one to push himself out from under societal control.

That said, he seemed pretty sincere when he talked with me, at least. His words were sure, despite his overall hesitant bearing. It helped that he was honest about it.

“I’m not really certain this is for me,” he said quietly. Unlike the others, he was a bit of an older fellow too. Probably late thirties or thereabouts, though it was harder to say now that he was immortal. “But I want to make an honest effort and see if it is.”

I nodded. “As long as you give it your all and then find that it’s not for you, then there’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Jalais nodded with some relief.

Last of the four was a woman called Atholaine. Like the first two, she was rather fierce and fired up. Her hair was hacked off at the nape of her neck, and she was purposefully baring her sharp teeth more often than not.

She clapped one palm with a fist. “Cultist Ross, do you know if there’s an Aspect of Punching?”

My mouth quirked up. “I’m not totally sure. But I am sure that you should be able to get it with the right amount of effort.”

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“Great!” She cracked her knuckles. “One of the things I found out was that I don’t have to hold back when I’m punching shit. No matter how hard I hit, even if it’s so powerful that I crush my own hand with a punch, I’ll always recover.” Her grin was all sharp, ferocious fangs. “Can’t say the same about the brick wall and iron door I just punched.”

I blinked, deciding against asking her just how the guards had ended up subduing her back in the prison. So long as she wasn’t trying to wallop holes through the temple walls, we’d be fine.

With the introductions all done, I tried figuring out their experience levels and how familiar they were with the Weave and with combat. None of them had a clue. Not a single one.

Well, at least I knew what I had to work with.

I explained some of the basics about Attributes, Aspects, and Affixes, then added some mentions of things like Augmentations and mana cores. None of them had the last, unsurprisingly.

One thing they all had in common was a Racial Aspect. It was very strange because none of them were Silver yet, which was when a Scarseeker’s and Scarthrall’s Racial Paths manifested. Yet, despite not having a Path, they all possessed the same Aspect of Rileblood. It was an Aspect that boosted their inherent Attributes.

Now it made sense why Scarthralls felt like their physical prowess was at least Silver-ranked. Every time I had fought one, I had felt like I had stood my ground against early Silvers.

“Now you know why ranking up is important,” I said. “More ranks means more things to play around with and more ways to express yourselves.”

They all nodded back in unison.

We didn’t really do a lot of actual training the first day. I had taken a decent amount of time just to learn about each of them, and then I gave them some homework to figure out what exactly they wanted and where they saw themselves based on their current experiences, capabilities, and desires.

Cheesy? Probably. Effective? Hopefully. Most importantly, it gave me some time to prepare for the next day’s training.

I went to visit Gutran and borrowed some gear from him, explaining that I was going to be passing his teaching onto others like the good disciple that I was.

“You said you never wanted to be a real apprentice,” Gutran grunted.

“Clearly,” I said, hefting the bundle of weapons and armour I had been gifted. “I lied.”

Gutran shook his head. “It’s nice that you’re passing on what you’ve learned. The student becomes the master, and so, the cycle continues.” He paused. “Though, usually the cycle lasts longer than two months.”

I had to pause and actualize that it had been about two months since I had come to Ephemeroth. Probably somewhat longer than two months.

It felt surreal.

Thanking Gutran for the donation and using Siphon to draw out the bundle’s weight, I carried the armaments back to the temple. With that, we could start the actual training.

The next couple of days were spent on remembering everything I knew about the basics of combat. About how to handle different weapons, how to put on armour, which were the most important parts to protect, how to use a shield with different weapons, and so on.

“Is armour actually necessary?” Atholaine asked. “I mean, we’ll just regenerate any wounds we receive, won’t we?”

“You will,” I said. “But you’ll still be incapacitated if the wound is severe enough, and I assume regenerating takes a good chunk of your mana. It’s better to avoid it, if you can.”

“Hmm.”

She didn’t sound convinced, though they all took to armour and shields without any hesitation. I had a feeling it was more because it made them feel like proper adventurers than any sense of safety. That sort of feeling eroded when one couldn’t be hurt permanently via normal means.

We focused on training up more of the basics. With armament management covered, I had them practicing basic slashes and stabs with swords as well as spear thrusts. It seemed simple and boring to them at first, but then I added things like holding the right stance with one’s posture and leg spacing, while also being aware of the opponent’s positioning and yeah…

Things could get complicated when simple stuff was compounded together.

Having different Scarthralls use different weapons also taught them the importance of reach. Someone with a spear would always hold a slight advantage against those with shorter weapons, at least until their opponent managed to get up close and personal.

I preferred to use a mace as that complemented my Gravity, but because of its shorter range, I would always need to remember to be aware of hazards as I reached swinging range.

The best training came on the third day, when we started some light sparring. Gutran was right. The best way to rank up Attributes and otherwise improve one’s combat capabilities was by training, especially against people who were stronger.

I fulfilled that role for the Scarthralls. Once I assured them I was going to be fine, they came at me without holding anything back, and they definitely hit hard. That Aspect of Rileblood really did empower them far stronger than their Iron-ranked Attributes and Aspects would suggest.

Which was good because I got some training in too. The Scarthralls might not have been stronger than me like Gutran was, but at times, I had them all come at me at once, which definitely helped.

“Hey, no fair!” Jalais shouted as he went down, his boot now weighing about the same as a fridge, courtesy of my Gravity.

“Your opponents won’t be holding back,” I said, batting away a spear thrust from Lujean. He cursed as the spear dipped, now weighed down like Jalais’s. “Got to think creatively to overcome all sorts of obstacles.”

I was definitely getting a workout trying to fend them all off at once. More importantly, I was getting some live practice using some of my newer tools.

The constant, Power-driven motion was driving out more of the magical threads via Mana Injection, which Reflexive Mana was using to create those mana javelins piercing through me. Through the corner of my eye, I barely caught Atholaine swinging her sword down towards my skull, but Reflexive Mana activated, jerking my body away from the sword slice.

“What the—”

I grinned and countered, taking advantage of her own momentum throwing her off balance as she missed. A heavy bash with my shield sent her tumbling away.

“How can you move like that?” she demanded as she got up. Or tried to. I was weighing down her whole armour now.

“Augmentations,” I said.

Later on, Vandre tried to use his Aspect of Aetherblood. Pellets of glowing red liquid emerged from a swing of his arm, shooting at me like bullets burst-spraying from a shotgun.

My reaction was quick. I just hefted my shield and focused on Field Manipulation with Siphon. A circle of purple threads condensed into a repulsive forcefield.

It was pretty effective. None of the blood hit me. Some of the pellets fell off to the side, while a good chunk reflected back towards Vandre to strike him.

“Ouch!” he yelped and jumped back.

His blood sizzled where it struck. He had mentioned that he had imbued some sort of acidic property into his blood with his Affix.

“See, that’s why you want to avoid getting hit, if possible,” I said.

I wasn’t just bullying and beating up people who were weaker than me. While the group melee helped, I also took time to fight against them one-on-one, much like how Gutran had done. That was obviously less effective for me, but I was glad to be able to help them get stronger.

My efforts manifested in rewards for me too.

[ Rank Up!

Your Power and Fervour Attributes have risen by one Rank.

Power: Silver VI

Fervour: Silver V ]

The Scarthralls confirmed they were getting some nice rank ups as well, which was good to hear. Things were coming along smoothly.

Later that evening, I received a Pipe Missive message from Khagnio. I didn’t even remember giving him access to messaging me through Pipe Missives, but Aqrea informed me that the letter had come through Ugnash’s contact, whom I had given my contact details.

The letter bore a short, simple message.

“I’ll be paying a visit tomorrow, mageling,” it read, written in the scratchiest handwriting I had ever had the displeasure of deciphering. “Hope you’re ready. It’s time we headed out to take the undercity by storm.”