"All the weapons you can choose from are lined up right here," Instructor Jude announced, gesturing to the long table brimming with a variety of armaments. "Stand in front of the weapon you wish to wield. But remember—this choice is final until you've trained for ten months. You won't get to change it again until then."
I stood in awe, gazing at the array of weapons meticulously arranged before us. From melee to ranged, explosive to specialized, each option sparkled under the bright lights, showcasing designs that hinted at their lethal potential.
"Just so you know, the weapons we're offering are strictly for training purposes only," Jude continued, his tone growing serious. "But don't underestimate them. Even though they're only replicas, each one costs about five million glacium."
For context, think of of glacium as the equivalent of USD currency in my world.
Gasps spread among the students, a symphony of disbelief filling the air. Training weapons worth that much? It was a staggering concept, even for this world. Yet no one dared question the instructor; they understood the weight of his words.
One by one, students stepped forward, boldly selecting their weapons. Almost half of the cadets gravitated toward the more conventional choices—swords, spears, and bows—collectively dubbed 'The Blessed Tridentes.'
The name "Tridentes" comes from the Latin word for "three," reinforcing the trio of sharp weapons, while "dentes," meaning "teeth," describes their lethal edges.
I watched as Cypher positioned himself in front of the sword, his hands gripping the hilt with confidence, Edge chose the spear with a smirk, Angela selected a bow, her choice easy and graceful. Christian opted for a bardiche, Rex stood with a scimitar, and Whitney, ever the wild card, chose a scourge whip that slithered ominously as she picked it up.
Then came the moment I dreaded.
"Remillia Lockhart? Have you chosen your weapon?" the instructor's voice broke into my reverie, sharpening my awareness.
Suddenly, I realized I was the last one standing, all eyes on me. Panic surged within as I stood frozen, staring at the vast selection before me. To my classmates, my hesitation might seem like disrespect towards the instructor, but internally, I was spiraling.
What do I even choose? I didn't know how to wield any of these weapons, nor did I have any recollection of what kind Remillia favored—or if she had any combat experience at all.
Scanning the table once more, my gaze flitted over the myriad of blades, axes, and other melee weapons until something unexpected caught my eye.
It was a simple dagger, seemingly innocuous compared to the more regal weapons surrounding it. In my world, this had been as close to a weapon as I'd ever held. Though I had no idea how to use it effectively, the familiarity of its shape resonated within me. In this realm, such a weapon was often regarded as the weakest of all—a symbol of desperation rather than valor. None of the heroes or even my classmates lingered near it.
"Ms. Lockhart," Instructor Jude urged again, his voice cutting through the thick silence, more insistent this time.
Feeling the weight of everyone's gaze, including Cypher's and Edge's, I was propelled forward almost against my will. I moved instinctively, guided by a sense of necessity and a faint whisper of survival that tugged at my consciousness.
Finally, I reached the dagger. As my fingers closed around its hilt, I felt an unexpected rush of comfort. The weapon was light, almost delicate, yet it grounded me in this moment. It was a choice not driven by prowess or tactical foresight but born out of a deep-seated need to find something familiar in this alien world.
I may not be skilled, but maybe, just maybe, I would learn to wield this simple blade into something more.