Reborn as an Adventurer: I Gain a Skill From Every Monster I Eat

Chapter 56: Chapter 56 — The Instructor’s Curiosity

Garrett called an early halt to their session on a gray, overcast afternoon, setting down his own practice blade with an unhurried deliberateness that told Arlen this was about more than simple fatigue.

”Sit,” Garrett said, gesturing toward the low bench at the yard’s edge. ”We need to talk about something.”

Arlen sat, sword still in hand, a faint unease settling into his chest despite the ordinary calm of Garrett’s tone.

”You’ve been with me, what, four months now?” Garrett said, more statement than question.

”Close to it.”

”In that time, you’ve progressed further than any student I’ve trained in the past decade. Possibly longer.” Garrett studied him with the same critical, appraising look he’d used that very first day, though considerably more focused now. ”Foundation work that usually takes a year, you managed in six weeks. Advanced forms I don’t typically introduce until a student’s second year, you’re already handling with reasonable competence.”

Arlen kept his expression carefully neutral, though his mind was already working through the careful, familiar calculations he’d rehearsed for exactly this kind of moment. ”You said yourself I had good instincts, going in.”

”Instincts explain some of it. Not all of it.” Garrett leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his gaze steady and direct. ”I’ve trained talented students before, Arlen. Genuinely gifted ones. None of them progressed at the rate you have. I’d be a poor instructor if I didn’t ask the obvious question.”

”Which is?”

”Have you Awakened? Properly, I mean. Not just trained hard enough that it looks that way from the outside.”

Arlen considered his answer carefully, the same deliberate weighing he’d applied to every version of this conversation since Cobb first asked something similar months ago.

”I think so,” he said finally. ”Started noticing changes a while back. Recovery, stamina, things that didn’t seem to match ordinary conditioning alone.”

”Aura, then.”

”That’s my best guess. Wasn’t certain enough to make any formal claim about it before now.”

Garrett studied him a long moment, something unreadable behind his weathered, careful expression. ”That would explain the recovery speed, certainly. Doesn’t fully explain how quickly the technique itself is settling in, but Awakened students do tend to absorb instruction faster across the board — mind and body both sharpen together, in my experience. I should have considered that possibility sooner.”

Arlen felt something in his chest ease at that, the careful surface calm he’d maintained through the conversation holding steady rather than cracking under further scrutiny. ”I wasn’t sure enough to say anything before now. Didn’t want to make a claim I couldn’t properly back up.”

”Fair enough. Cautious approach, and not a bad one.” Garrett nodded slowly, seeming to settle the matter in his own mind. ”You’ll want it formally evaluated eventually, you understand. Guild likes proper documentation, especially once your rank starts climbing further and people start asking questions on their own, without you volunteering an answer first.”

”I know,” Arlen said, and found the acknowledgment cost him considerably less than he’d feared it might. He’d known this reckoning was coming eventually, ever since his very first careful research in the guild library. Garrett’s blunt, practical framing of it — not as exposure, but simply as proper documentation of an ordinary Awakening — made the prospect feel far less threatening than his private anxieties had built it up to be.

”For now,” Garrett continued, ”it just means I’ll push you a bit harder than I might a slower student. No sense holding back technique a body’s clearly ready to receive.” He rose, retrieving his practice blade. ”Come on. Back to it. We’ll work the transitional forms today instead of basics — see how quickly that Awakened instinct of yours picks them up.”

They resumed training for the remainder of the session, and Arlen found the pace considerably more demanding than usual, Garrett introducing sequences he’d clearly been holding in reserve for a more advanced student, watching with sharp, evaluating attention as Arlen worked through them.

”Good,” Garrett said, after a particularly clean transition between two guard forms. ”Better than good, honestly. Whatever you’ve Awakened, it’s serving you well.”

”Feels natural enough,” Arlen said, which was, in its own way, entirely true.

He walked back toward the guild’s inn that evening with a lighter step than he’d expected, the conversation with Garrett settling into him as something considerably less dangerous than he’d feared it might become. The old man’s directness, once past the initial unease, had proven a genuine relief — someone who’d noticed the truth’s edges without demanding more of the shape than Arlen was ready to give, satisfied instead with the simple, plausible explanation of an ordinary, if unusually capable, Awakening.

He wrote about it that night, the familiar rhythm of reflection settling comfortably over him.

Garrett noticed the pace of my progress. Asked directly, which I appreciated more than I expected to — better than lingering suspicion left unspoken. Told him I thought I’d Awakened Aura, and he accepted it readily enough, more interested in adjusting his teaching than pressing further into details.

He mentioned formal evaluation eventually. I’ve known that was coming since my very first library visit, months ago. Strange, how much less frightening it feels now that someone’s actually said it plainly, rather than leaving it as an abstract fear I kept turning over privately.

Maybe that’s the lesson here. The things I’ve been most afraid of exposing haven’t actually cost me anything, when they’ve finally surfaced in whatever small way I’ve let them. Cobb accepted it easily. Now Garrett, adjusting his teaching rather than treating me with suspicion.

I still have more to hold back than what I told him today. But one careful piece at a time, revealed only when it needs to be, still seems like the right way to carry this.

He closed the journal, the evening settling comfortably around him, and found himself, for the first time in months, allowing the careful, ever-present weight of his hidden nature to rest just slightly lighter on his shoulders than it had before.