The decision to send us to the place had already been paying off, seeing as we had learnt just how unprepared we were for a real fight. The old man said it himself, we should have won, and that's exactly why we stayed.
He'd teach us, his ways, his knowledge, his skills, his art, and then, and only then, could we even think of our final obstacle. It was unsettling, the fact that if at any moment, the dryad misplaced his sanity, we'd be dead.
It was a heavy burden to carry, but we didn't have a choice, we didn't get that luxury. The only other options we had if we didn't want to fight, were, to run or detach ourselves from everyone and everything, and none of those options were appealing.
As the day closed, he'd give us new clothes, robes, white like his, underwear, extremely stretchy and durable, all of it was.
