The journey from the Alvari Watchtower, including his frustrating but ultimately enlightening grind session to improve [Ground Stomp] to a shaky 84% SCR in the Grizzly Bear Ravine, had been a direct path. Now, his immediate goal was singular: find the city's Warrior Training Hall.
He stepped through the gate, leaving the relative quiet of the Silverwood Foothills behind. The sheer scale of Silverhaven hit him immediately. Oakhaven had been a bustling town; Silverhaven was a true metropolis. Towering buildings of white stone and polished wood, adorned with intricate carvings and the city's silver wolf-head insignia, lined broad, paved avenues. The air hummed with the movement of hundreds, if not thousands, of players – many clearly high-level, clad in gleaming Epic or even Legendary-looking gear that made Drake's own Normal and Rare items feel utterly pedestrian. Merchants shouted their wares from permanent storefronts, guards in ornate plate armor patrolled with an air of authority, and the ambient sounds were a symphony of urban life mixed with the distinct chimes and whooshes of game skills being activated.
"This place is massive. Oakhaven was a village in comparison. Finding anything here will be a challenge in itself."
He approached a city guard stationed near the gate, the [Known Hand] title hopefully smoothing the interaction. "Excuse me, Guard. Can you direct me to the main Warrior Training Hall?"
The guard, a stern-faced woman in polished steel, glanced at him. "Training Hall? Straight down Processional Way, past the Market Circle, then left into the Citadel Ward. Can't miss it – big building, lots of noise." She gave him a curt nod and returned to her watch.
Drake thanked her and set off, navigating the crowded streets. He passed through the vibrant Market Circle, filled with player-run stalls and NPC vendors hawking exotic goods, then into the more imposing Citadel Ward, where the architecture became grander, dominated by guild halls and faction headquarters. Finally, he found it: a massive, fortress-like building emblazoned with crossed swords and a shield, the sounds of clashing steel and shouted kiai echoing from within. The sign read: "Silverhaven Warrior's Proving Ground & Training Hall."
He stepped inside. The interior was a cavernous, high-ceilinged space. One vast area was filled with rows upon rows of various training dummies – some simple straw-stuffed figures, others heavily armored constructs, a few even had moving parts simulating evasive targets. Another section held open sparring rings where players were engaged in duels, their skills flashing with bright energy. Weapon racks lined the walls, and several stern-looking NPC Trainers observed the proceedings or offered instruction.
"This is exactly what I needed. No distractions, no retaliation, just pure focus on execution."
He located an unoccupied, standard practice dummy – a sturdy wooden pole wrapped in thick rope and leather – in a quieter corner and squared up to it. He took a breath, focusing his intent on the [Ground Stomp] skill, visualizing the phantom activation guide, the timing, the feel of the shockwave. His goal was to push past the frustrating 84% SCR baseline he'd achieved against live mobs.
He initiated the skill. Stomp. << Skill Success! [Ground Stomp] SCR: 84%! Minor AoE Damage! (Dummy Unaffected by Stagger) >> His body automatically replicated his current best. He tried again, consciously attempting to make the stomp faster, the energy release more focused, matching the ideal timing more precisely. << Skill Success! [Ground Stomp] SCR: 84%! ... >> Again. << Skill Success! [Ground Stomp] SCR: 84%! ... >>
"Still 84%. This controlled environment helps focus, but breaking that baseline still requires achieving a better execution at least once. Just need to nail that perfect timing..."
He continued practicing for a solid twenty minutes, the repetition a familiar comfort. He felt himself getting closer to a cleaner execution, the timing becoming more intuitive. Deciding to take a brief stamina break, he stepped back from the dummy, rolling his shoulders. It was then he overheard a conversation from a nearby group of three Warriors, all clad in decent Rare gear, likely in their mid-20s.
"Man, I just don't get it," one was saying, exasperated, after whiffing a powerful-looking overhead chop skill against a dummy. "[Sundering Cleave] hits 92% SCR for me here like, every other try. But in the dungeon last night? Against that damn charging Minotaur? Lucky if I hit 70%! Failed three times in a row at one point!"
A second Warrior nodded sympathetically. "Tell me about it. My [Shield Bash] timing is perfect on these static targets. Can hit 95% no problem. But when the boss is moving, casting AoEs, healer's screaming... my SCR drops to garbage. It's the pressure, the chaos. Can't replicate practice ground perfection in a real fight."
The third chimed in, "Exactly! It's one thing to hit a perfect sequence when the target just stands there. It's another when it's trying to cave your skull in and you've got five other things to watch out for. My average combat SCR is probably 20% lower than my dummy SCR."
Drake listened, and a profound realization dawned, hitting him with unexpected clarity. He looked at his own hands, then back at the dummy. He replayed their words, then considered his own experiences. He'd been frustrated by the difficulty of improving his SCR baseline, the sheer effort needed to push from 76% to 84% on [Ground Stomp] against live mobs. But he hadn't truly appreciated the other side of his [Eidetic Execution] talent until this very moment.
"They hit high SCRs in practice... but can't consistently replicate it in live combat. Movement, pressure, unexpected mechanics... it all degrades their execution. But for me..." He thought about his 100% SCR [Basic Slash] and [Defend]. They performed identically, perfectly, whether he was calmly fighting a Level 1 Sprite or desperately blocking a Level 10 Elite Guardian's killing blow. "...for me, once I hit a new peak SCR, like that 84% on Ground Stomp, my talent locks it. And then I execute at 84% SCR every single time, no matter what. Against a dummy, against a boss, in a chaotic group fight... It doesn't degrade. The consistency... it's absolute."
A slow, almost predatory smirk touched his lips. The frustration he'd felt about the slow grind of improving SCR hadn't vanished – that part was still brutally hard work, requiring him to manually achieve that first better execution. But the value of each hard-won percentage point was suddenly magnified enormously. For other players, a moment of practice-ground perfection was fleeting, a lucky high roll. For him, it was a permanent, combat-ready upgrade.
"The biggest hurdle for them isn't learning the skill; it's maintaining high execution under pressure. My talent completely bypasses that. I am always at my recorded peak. The gap between my practice performance and my live combat performance is zero."
This understanding provided an immense surge of motivation, eclipsing his earlier frustrations about the slow pace of improvement. He still had to put in the grueling work to achieve that new personal best, that higher SCR. But now, the reward for doing so felt exponentially greater.
He turned back to the training dummy, the sounds of the other Warriors' continued practice and occasional frustrated sighs fading into the background. His focus on [Ground Stomp] was renewed, sharper than ever. He had a new baseline to achieve, and he knew, with absolute certainty, that once he reached it here, in the calm of the Training Hall, it would be his to command flawlessly in the most chaotic battles imaginable. The real grind for perfection continued, but now with a much deeper appreciation for the unique power he wielded.