Extra's Path: The Eternal Frost Monarch

The Academy’s training facility was large.

It was split into different sections depending on what you were working on. Strength training in one wing. Sparring platforms in another. And further back, past a set of double doors, was the ranged practice area in one corner of the training hall.

Noah pushed through the doors and stepped inside.

The shooting range was long and narrow. High ceiling. The walls on either side were lined with thick padding.

Downrange, at various distances, were practice targets. Simple circular designs, rings getting smaller toward the center. Some were stationary. A few of the far ones moved slowly on a track, sliding left and right at a low pace.

A handful of students were already there. One girl near the front was practicing with a short bow, loosing arrows in a steady rhythm. Two boys further down were arguing quietly over something, one of them holding a crossbow. Nobody paid Noah any attention when he walked in.

He went to the equipment rack along the side wall.

The practice bows were plain and simple. Wooden, medium draw weight, nothing fancy. Designed for beginners. He picked one up and turned it over in his hands. It was lighter than he expected. Smooth grain. The string was taut but not extremely tight.

He grabbed a quiver of practice arrows from the rack beside it and slung it over his shoulder.

He walked to an open lane and stood facing the nearest target. Standard distance. Not too far.

He looked at the bow.

Noah had the Combatant profession.

In simple terms, it meant he wouldn’t look completely lost.

But basic proficiency was still just that. Basic. It gave him the form. It didn’t give him the repetition, the muscle memory, or the feel that only came from actual practice.

He nocked an arrow on the string.

His fingers found the string naturally enough. Middle finger above the arrow, ring finger below, index finger light on top. His left arm extended, holding the bow out toward the target. He pulled the string back slowly.

The draw resistance pushed against him. It was not overwhelming, but present. He felt it in his shoulder and across his upper back.

He lined up the arrow with the target. His gaze fixed on the target. He observed it for a while.

Then let half of it out. The arrow flew.

It hit the outer ring of the target. It didn’t hit the edge or outermost part, but not close to the center either.

Noah lowered the bow and looked at where it had landed.

"Not bad for a first try," Noah said with a satisfied smile.

The Combatant profession had given him the basic form. His elbow had been in roughly the right position. His grip had been decent. But his aim was off, and he could feel that his release hadn’t been clean.

"I should try more."

He nocked another arrow. And shot again.

He spent the next hour at the range.

He didn’t rush through the arrows. He took each shot slowly. Drew, lined up, checked his breathing, released. Then he walked downrange, pulled his arrows out of the target, walked back, and did it again.

By the third round, his shots were grouping better. Still outer ring, mostly. But they were landing closer together, which told him his form was becoming more consistent even if his aim still needed work.

His shoulder started aching around the forty-minute mark. The draw was repetitive and his body wasn’t used to it yet. He shook his arm out, rested for a few minutes, then kept going.

"Okay... that much is enough. Let’s rest for a while."

Noah went toward the bench and sat, taking out a bottle from his storage ring. He drank the cool water.

He pulled out the manual for archery, given by Professor Victor.

[Flowing String Archery]

It was a weapon art of 2.5 star. It was not too good nor bad. Rather, it was mid. But very useful for learning. It’s easy, and won’t take much time, so one can focus on their primary weapon art.

He studied it and read the first form.

"A 2.5-star manual..."

His lips curved slightly.

"It’s not amazing... but not bad either."

For someone else, it might have been average. But for Noah, it was perfect. Something simple and easy. Something he could learn quickly. Something that wouldn’t interfere with his blade art.

He flipped it open. His eyes moved across the first page.

Then the next. And then he read the first form of this art.

Form I — Still Calm Strike.

Noah’s posture straightened slightly as he began reading carefully.

His eyes scanned every word. He read every instruction. Every explanation.

As the name suggested, it was an art that depended on flow. Such as the flow of water.

"...a completely calm body produces a completely deadly shot..."

"...circulate mana in a slow, even current..."

"...do not force it..."

"...guide it..."

His brows furrowed slightly. A thoughtful expression appeared on his face.

"Calm, even flow and no forcing."

It sounded simple. But it wasn’t that simple.

Noah had already experienced something similar while practicing the Frozen Lotus stance.

Controlling mana without forcing it. While doing that, he needed to be as calm as possible.

Letting it move naturally. That wasn’t something that came easily. But he had trained it before.

His fingers tapped lightly against the page as he continued reading.

"...fix your aim on a precise point... release only when the mana feels settled..."

He closed the manual slowly. A quiet exhale left his lips.

"...So, it’s about shooting right."

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His gaze drifted toward the targets downrange.

"Let’s practice the first form. No need to waste time."

Then he stood up. His expression had changed again.

He was more calm and focused.

"Alright... let’s try this properly."

Noah walked back toward the shooting lane. He picked up the bow again. The familiar weight settled into his hand.

He reached back and pulled out an arrow from the quiver.

He nocked it as the arrow slid into place. He raised the bow. The tip of the arrow directed at the target.

But this time, he didn’t draw immediately. 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

He paused, his feet adjusted slightly. Shoulder-width apart. Right foot half a step back. Just like the manual instructed.

He started to learned the first form.