An hour past noon, Darian walks through his front door with smithy supplies and some groceries. He places the groceries in the kitchen before making his way to the hearth.

"Where have you been?" His mother emerges from a side room as he walks past it.

"I was running errands like you asked me to, mother."

She leans down and rubs dirt off his face. "Do you expect me to believe this dirt simply jumped up and attacked you?"

Her bright green eyes declare a challenge that his eyes refuse to meet. "I tripped on the way back."

She straightens up and smirks. "We both know you can't lie to me. I told you no more fighting. Go to your father. We will decide what to do with you later."

Darian lifts the supplies and heads to the hearth. The rhythmic sounds of metal against metal growing louder as he draws closer. He passes through the back door and sees his father hammering out horseshoes.

"Put em in the shed, then come over here, boy." His father continues his work without looking at his son.

Darian puts the materials in the shed before walking over to his father. "Yes, Dad?"

His father looks over to his son. "I want to show you how to finish the shoes. It'll be important when you actually start working the forge."

"What's the mold good for if you still have to work the shoe afterwards?" Darian looks down at the unfinished shoe.

His father resumes hammering. "The mold gets most of the work done, but sometimes you have to hammer out flaws. Suppose a customer brings you a broken shoe. You need to know what to look for and how to fix it." He looks to his son again. "Can you tell what's wrong with this one?"

Darian looks over the shoe for a moment and spots some deformation on the inner edge. He then looks to his father, who was following his gaze. "Father, I don't want to be a smith. I think I should make the most of my talents. I should become a warrior."

"That's a shame, because you have good eyes. You noticed the inner edge right away." His father resumes hammering. "To become a warrior is to become a killer, and killing isn't a talent. You'd be trading a life of peace for a life of torment and hate. Why would you want that?"

Darian looks at the hearth. "I want to be able to protect you and mother. I want to be strong enough to protect my friends."

"Protect them from what? Becoming a warrior makes you a target. You'd be putting them in danger by announcing your existence. Darian, my son, you're on the path to creating the very enemies you're worried about." He reassuringly places a calloused hand on Darian's shoulder. "Forget about fighting and focus on smithing."

Darian looks at his father's hand before looking down at his feet. "Yes, father. Please allow me to help with the smithy."

A wide smile grows on his father's face. "Grab the tongs, Son. I have much to show you today."

A few hours go by and the sun begins to set. Darian's mother peeks her head out the back door and looks at the two of them. "Go wash up, my loves, dinner is ready. I know you two won't let it get cold."

Darian puts down the hammer and his father pats him on the back. "Good work today, Son. Let's go eat."

Darian chuckles and wipes his forehead. "Sounds great. I'm starving. By the way, mother is going to want to talk to you about me before dinner."

He responds without looking. "Did you get in another fight?"

"You could say that. It was just a game of King of the Hill."

His father looks him in the eyes. "I feel that more happened than you're letting on. I'll talk to your mother. The two of us will figure out your punishment."

They both head inside and rinse their faces and hands. They head towards the kitchen where they see Darian's mother waiting. "Edwin, we need to talk. Come to our room." She walks past the both of them.

Darian's father looks at him before saying, "Go ahead and sit down, Son, but don't start eating until we sit." He then follows her to their room.

Darian walks to the table and sits across from his parents’ seats. The table is modest to match the rest of the room. Sitting on the table is freshly baked bread, goat cheese, and roasted chicken, lit by the weaning sunlight shining through the west window. Darian is grateful that his family can afford to eat well, since his father is one of the few blacksmiths in town.

After a few minutes, his parents enter the kitchen. His mother looks at him and smiles. "Go ahead and eat. You didn't need to wait for us." She sits down across from him and his father sits to her left. His father smiles at him as he sits.

They all dig into the food. Edwin pours himself and his wife some beer. Darian looks at it curiously before asking, "Can I have some? I'd like to try it."

His father looks at him with a smirk. "You won't like it, but you're old enough to try it if you want." He slides his mug to his son.

Darian lifts the mug to his mouth and takes a swig. He quickly thrusts the mug away from his face and starts coughing. "That's terrible! Why would you drink that?”

His father lets out a hearty laugh as he slams his hand on the table. "I told you, boy, but you don't listen to your wise father. Isn't that right, Helen?"

She puts down her drink and looks at Edwin. "Our boy is quite stubborn. You can count the lessons he's learned by counting the welts on his head."

Darian tries to hide his embarrassment by shoveling food into his mouth. It isn't long until the conversation becomes about how their day was. Eventually they all finish eating and his father signals that it's time to talk about more serious matters by clearing his throat. "It's about time we talk about your punishment, boy."

Helen places her hand on her husband's shoulder and looks at Darian. "We've decided that you are to stay home for one week, except to run errands."

"But, Mother I-"

"Let me finish. During this time, you will help your father at the forge and when he has free time, he will teach you how to fight with the sword on the condition that you stop fighting in town."

Darian looks at the both of them suspiciously. "Father, you know how to use the sword?"

"You once again doubt us? Meet me outside once it’s dark. I’m going to add another welt to your head." Edwin stands up and walks towards the forge.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

He watches his father leave, then turns to his mother. "He's really going to teach me the sword?"

"So long as you keep your end of the agreement. Don't think it will be easy, Son. We've simply decided that it would be best for us to teach you the lessons you would learn naturally on your own. If you still want more lessons after a week of your father teaching you, there will be more lessons for you."

After a short while, Darian joins his father outside. His mother follows behind him. Edwin holds two swords in hand. He is illuminated by lanterns spread out around the yard. Edwin looks at Darian and says, "Join me, boy. Take a sword and stand over there." He points the sword at a small, bare spot in the yard fifteen feet away.

Darian walks to his father and takes a sword. He looks at it cautiously and looks up to his father. "We're going to be using real swords?"

"Of course. Just as your enemies would face you with a sword in hand, so will I. There will be a crucial difference, though. I will not swing at you with my sword. Now, take your place and don’t hold back. That will be your only warning."

He walks to the place his father designated and holds the short sword in front of him. He immediately notices how heavy it is. Just holding it is weighing him down. It feels very different from the fist fights he's been in. Even with the guarantee that his father will not swing at him, the sight of a sword facing against him is intimidating. Darian stands there ready, yet unmoving.

His father stands opposed to him in a relaxed stance. His body posture emanates confidence. "Are you too scared to move, boy? If you don't make the first move, I will. Come at me."

Darian stands in place, unable to move. "I need to dash at him. The only things I have over him are my speed and reflexes. If I don't use them, how can I hope to win? Move!" Darian crouches low and bursts forward. Within three steps, he is in front of his father with his sword thrusting towards his stomach. Edwin's sword leaps from a resting position and deflects Darian's sword to the side. Before Darian could respond, a strike to his face sends him tumbling in the dirt six feet away. He puts his hand to his cheek and feels blood. He sees his father returning to his original stance after striking him with his fist.

"I'm impressed that you were able to actually thrust at me. I guess you really did believe me. However, you didn't have a plan for after I deflected it. Had I wanted to, I could have cut you in two and that would have been it. Think before you act."

Darian stands up and readies himself again. "I didn't know he could move so fast. He basically didn't move until I was right on him. Even though I could see his movements, I couldn't react on time. A straight on assault won't work." Darian walks forward cautiously. Every step made intending to dodge at any moment. He gets within three feet of his father, watching his stance the entire time; waiting for an opening. The only problem is that his stance appears to be full of openings.

Darian notices his father’s right leg twitch and moves his left arm to intercept it. Almost faster than he can see, his father’s leg strikes his arm and sends him flying. He hits the ground and tumbles in the dirt for a dozen feet until coming to a stop. Darian tries to stand but stumbles and ends up on his hands and knees. The world is spinning and his arm aches.

“If you weren’t Life-Connected, your arm would be broken, and you might even have had a concussion. I told you to think before acting, not to do nothing but think. You stood there staring at me for far too long.”

His head stops spinning, and he regains his bearings. Darian stands up and readies himself again. He tries to ignore the pain in his arm and his shaking hands. “He’s tossing me around like a doll. Moving up to him cautiously is a good idea, but I need to attack as soon as I get in range. I can’t wait for him to act.”

He once again cautiously moves closer. Once Darian gets four feet from his father, he gets low and bursts forward. His heel hits the ground after he gets within striking distance, stopping his body from moving forward. He uses the momentum he gained to add to his sword’s speed as he swings from the right. His swing is almost as fast as his father’s earlier kick, but by the time he notices his father move, his attack has already been blocked. His father’s sword was raised up so quickly, it surprises him to see it had moved at all. However, he planned for this. He quickly throws dirt at his father’s eyes. Edwin’s head reels back, and he closes his eyes. “Now's my chance!” Darian quickly swings his sword from his left at his father’s side. However, he stops short. He simply can’t bring himself to hit his father.

“You should have gone through with it, son.” Darian’s breath leaves his lungs as he is kicked in the stomach. His feet leave the ground, and he feels as if he will never touch it again as he flies through the air. Eventually, he connects to the ground and tumbles backwards. He lies in the dirt, rolling back and forth as he tries to catch his breath. Eventually he sucks in air, only to cough it back out.

“It impressed me when you threw the dirt in my eyes. Did you pick it up after I kicked you? It doesn’t matter though, because you failed to finish me off. The enemy won’t give you a second chance if you hesitate. I kicked you, hoping you will remember the pain of hesitation.” He walks over to Darian. “Get up, Son, the lesson isn't over.”

Darian shakily rises to his feet and opens his mouth to speak, but instead, vomits on the ground. He looks at the wasted food and wipes his mouth. “I just didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Don’t think so little of me, boy. I was fighting long before you were born. It will take more than a whelp who doesn’t even know how to properly use his energy to hurt me. I told you at the start not to hold back. Now, get ready. From now on, I’m going on the offense.”

Ten minutes later, Darian was lying on the ground beaten and bruised. “You failed to hit me even once, and even though I never swung my sword, you still didn’t stand a chance. That said, you did better than I expected.” Edwin kneels next to Darian. “Son, the reason I did all this was to see where you stood. You are much stronger than the kids your age. Hell, you’re stronger than I was when I was your age. However, there is still quite a bit I can teach you. I needed to show you that. Do you still want to learn from me?”

Darian puts his feet underneath himself and stands. “Of course. I need to become stronger. I can feel it.”

Darian winces as his father pats his back. “Good! You will spend tomorrow learning from me as I work the forge. You will focus on learning and healing. The next day, I will teach you sword forms and practices. Sleep well tonight, Son.”

“I look forward to it.” Darian looks away from his father and notices his mother as she walks over to him with her arms outstretched. He returns the gesture and they embrace.

“I am sorry you had to go through that, Darian. You look terrible, but you’re tough. I am sure you will heal quickly. We only did this because we love you.”

“I know, Mom. I’m glad you’re both giving me the chance to learn. I understand why you tested my will first.”

She ruffles his brown hair. “Head to bed, darling. You need to rest.”

Darian shuffles to his bed before collapsing on it. He thinks about his day while the pain keeps him awake. “I never knew Father could fight. I also suspect that he is connected. I should ask him directly tomorrow.” He pictures every move that his father made during the fight. He tries to remember the forms and positions he attacked from. He simulates what he could do differently and how it would have changed things. He comes to the conclusion that nothing he did could have led to him landing a hit on his father in an actual fight. Darian continues to think for a bit longer before eventually drifting to sleep.

"Running"

Darian opens his eyes with a start. They dance around, taking in his surroundings. He's flanked by trees and shadows in a dark, oppressive forest. Every shadow that moves and every sound that echoes through the forest, a potential threat. It feels as if he's being watched from all sides.

"Feel"

He blinks, and he finds himself in an unfamiliar, empty city. He feels hostility and loneliness from the nearby alleyways. Footsteps can be heard all around him, but no people to associate the sounds with. The footsteps surround him and close in, getting louder and louder. He covers his ears to block out the deafening sounds.

"Stronger"

A battlefield appears before him. He's surrounded by enemies, but not one attacks him. One man stands close, facing Darian, with an aura of hostility pouring out of him. He looks at the man and sees experience and strength. The man steps forward.

"Fight"

Darian sees nothing. Darian hears nothing. He feels it; Power. A powerful force bears down on him, threatening to crush him to dust. Its very presence emanates fury. Suddenly, the power forces itself into him. Pushing its way into his body, leaving Darian with no way to stop it. Darian feels an unimaginable burning in his chest as he screams out into the void in pain, but hears no proof of his existence. He looks at his hands and sees them turning to dust. His fingers crumble away in front of him and his arms soon follow suit. He collapses to the ground as his legs are swept away by a nonexistent wind. He continues to scream out into the darkness as his body is disintegrated. He screams until his lungs are vaporized. The last thing he sees is a pair of eyes gazing into his as the pain overwhelms him and his consciousness fades.

"Connected"