When Zeke received news that he was permitted to head to the newly discovered dungeon, he was over the moons. That enthusiasm dimmed somewhat when he heard about the training camp. He was told that every party heading into the dungeon needed at least one member above level twenty, and the camp was how those individuals would do their recruiting. At first, that did not sound too bad. All it meant was that he needed to show he was a cut above the rest, and he would be recruited in no time.

  Then he heard the dungeon had been promoted to a low-rank raid dungeon, and his heart sank a bit. From what the guild primer had said, reliability was more important than individual strength in a raid dungeon. Still, Zeke refused to let that sour his mood. He was a level four initiate. At level five, he would be able to choose an initial specialization.

  He was already training with sword and board, so he figured he would go classic fighter or champion. But maybe Shield Master would be better for a raid dungeon.

  Zeke shook his head. He was still a full level away from making that decision, and he would never get chosen to join a party if he did not focus on honing his skills.

  On the first day of training camp, he awoke to the smell of food. The guild had offered a hearty breakfast of oats and meat. Zeke savored the first real hot meal he had had in weeks. Delivery quests and herb-gathering outside dungeons never paid enough for more than a room and a cold meal, so this only hardened his resolve to make it into a party.

  He was confused when they were led out of town by Peter and Greg—a gecko-man and a gator-man, respectively. Greg was massive and muscular, carrying an anchor on his back. Peter was a paunchy druid, but he held a content look in his eye.

  Then Zeke saw it.

  The training camp was set up right at the edge of the swamp. It boasted a plethora of wooden buildings, fenced-off training fields, and a running track. But what truly grabbed his attention were the beast goblins.

  They had digitigrade legs and feet, with black fur covering their arms and legs. But what really stood out were their floppy ears. The goblins were everywhere—carrying equipment, helping set up buildings, corralling what Zeke could only assume was a very fat troll, and performing countless other mundane tasks. They worked alongside the guild staff as if this were the most natural thing in the world.

  Then Zeke saw the prettiest woman he had ever laid eyes on.

  She was wrapped in pristine silks. Her skin was alabaster, her hair looked like long black vines, and her eyes were a brilliant violet. Zeke was a fairly average badger-kin, and normally his tastes were equally average—but something about that woman called to him.

  “Don’t mind the beast goblins,” Greg boomed. “Leave them alone and they’ll leave you alone. This will be your new home until you either pass or drop out. This camp exists to make sure as few recruits die as possible. This may be a new dungeon, but that doesn’t mean you’re safe. The camp is here to make sure you understand that before stepping inside.”

  Zeke nodded. He had heard most of this before he had even been allowed to come here.

  “I don’t think you all understand,” Greg mused. “I think a demonstration is in order. Who here thinks they’re stronger than a goblin?”

  Nearly everyone raised a hand—Zeke included. Greg just chuckled, then pointed directly at him.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “You, badger-kin,” Greg said. “Your kind is known for hardiness. Get up here.”

  Zeke’s feet moved before his brain could fully register what was happening.

  “Tell me, lad, what class and level are you?” Greg asked, patting Zeke on the shoulder.

  “Martial initiate, level four,” Zeke answered automatically.

  “Sword and board?” Greg asked.

  Zeke nodded.

  A goblin appeared beside him and offered a sword and shield. Zeke took them.

  Greg placed a hand on Zeke’s back and guided him toward one of the sparring fields as he continued speaking. “I need all of you to understand something. None of you really grasp what you’re getting into. You see these goblins running about, but you don’t understand what you’re seeing. Now, lad—step into the sparring field.”

  Zeke obeyed. As soon as he stepped into the circle marking his starting position, a beast goblin vaulted the fence and took up a position across from him. His nerves frayed as he saw the expression on its face—hard eyes paired with a vicious grin. The only weapons it carried were a pair of wooden gauntlets.

  The goblin dropped into a low martial stance and narrowed its eyes.

  “Begin!” Greg growled.

  Both Zeke and the beast goblin lunged into motion. Zeke immediately realized the goblin was faster than him. His training kicked in—he needed to strike where it would be, not where it was. Just before it entered range, he swung in a wide arc, hoping to cut off as many angles of attack as possible.

  Instead, the goblin ducked. It tucked its left leg beneath itself while the right continued forward, then exploded upward at an angle and slammed a fist into Zeke’s gut.

  The next thing Zeke knew, he was airborne.

  His flight ended abruptly when his back collided with a fence post. Stars danced in his vision as pain roared through his abdomen. Warmth wrapped around him as a healing spell took hold, and he found himself sitting there, struggling to process what had just happened.

  “Match!” Greg roared.

  The beast goblin bounced in place, cackling in glee at its victory, before sprinting back to join the other watching goblins.

  “Are you going to be alright, lad?” Greg asked.

  “What hit me?” Zeke asked dazedly.

  “About two hundred pounds of angry beast goblin,” Greg replied with an amused tone. “Did you all see how decisive that was?” he asked the gathered recruits.

  “I’m sorry he singled you out,” Peter said gently as he helped Zeke to his feet. Zeke realized he had been clutching the sword and shield the entire time; Peter took them and handed them to a waiting goblin porter. “But I hope you understand why this was necessary.”

  “Was that… like an elite? A mini-boss?” Zeke asked hopefully.

  “Common beast goblin,” Peter replied.

  Zeke paled.

  “You see why this camp exists now?” Peter asked patiently. “Imagine how many would have died if we’d just cut you all loose in there.”

  Zeke grimaced. “This… this is actually really smart.”

  “It was the dungeon’s idea,” Peter chuckled. “It wants you to grow. There’s no point in chewing up chaff, or so it says. It would rather you be a challenge to the denizens of the dungeon than just another meal.” He guided Zeke to a bench and set him down. “Rest here for a bit. Greg will be filtering out the hotheads for a while longer. Meditate on your fight. Internalize it.” With that, Peter wandered off.

  Zeke sat for some time before he noticed a blinking icon in the corner of his vision.

  [Exp gained for surviving an encounter with a stronger entity. Exp threshold reached. Level 5 obtained. Would you like to choose a class progression? (Y/N)]

  Zeke selected yes, letting the memory of the fight flow through his mind as options spilled out before him.

  [1. Berserker — Fury is your fuel. A martial class specializing in damage and endurance]

  [2. Fighter — Jack of all trades, master of none. A foundational martial class]

  [3. Shield Master — Your shield is as much a part of you as your heart. Specializes in survivability, defense, and taunting]

  There were many more options—mostly classes specializing in a single weapon or narrow tactics. Then something unfamiliar caught his eye.

  [37. Legionnaire — One of many. A martial class that focuses on group tactics, buffs, endurance, and defense. Legionnaires gain bonuses for fighting beside other Legionnaires.]

  Something about the class felt off at first. He inspected it more closely. Initially, it looked like a weaker Shield Master. But the more he read, the more it spoke to him. It wasn’t about personal survivability—it was about the survivability of the party.

  Where Shield Master emphasized raw defense, Legionnaire emphasized endurance. And endurance meant health.

  Trusting his instincts, Zeke selected Legionnaire. He had never heard of the class before, but something about it sang to him.

  And what self-respecting badger-kin ever ignored their instincts?