“Ophelia!” shouted the heavy, deeply masculine voice that accompanied the thunderous footsteps through the manor home. I was on edge, feeling like I was back in highschool, picking up my prom date from her father’s house. All nerves and fear, though I hoped that now, like then, it was mostly unwarranted.

It was not. The steps grew closer and closer, and Ophelia didn’t move from her spot. She seemed surprised, but not afraid, so I followed her lead and waited. The man came around the corner of a hallway on the other side of the foyer, and the moment he saw us, he attacked. The earth beneath his feet shot up in front of him, a pillar nearly a foot thick. He punched the pillar as it rose, thick chunks of rock flying forward at us with astounding speed.

“Niles!” I heard Ophelia’s surprised shout but didn’t have time to look. I could track the rocks coming our way with my sight, and interposed barriers between us and each one in turn, until it was impossible to see through the cloud of shattered magical shields and exploding rocks. The onslaught paused suddenly, and I heard a deep laugh.

“Not bad, but how will you handle this?” Hidden behind the cloud, the voice was ominous. I took a half second to glance towards Ophelia, and saw that she had been dragged against a wall by a giant stone fist.

I wanted to figure out what was going on, but I just didn’t have the time. My vision caught movement through the cloud as the shattered barriers started to fade. Dozens of small pointed rocks, shaped like stalactites, came at the same time. Far too many to handle with my more efficient barriers. And they were headed towards Ophelia, instead of me. I couldn’t even spare the moment to swear, throwing out my hand and casting my new ability.

The mana barrier erupted into blue light as the stone spears lanced against it and fell to the floor. I could feel my mana being pulled out of my body, drained far too quickly. The barrier had been large enough to entirely cover Ophelia, and it had taken dozens of surprisingly powerful hits in quick succession. I glanced at my mana bar, and saw that it was already below half.

Time seemed to freeze for me, for just the barest of moments. My brain clicked into overdrive as adrenaline burned through every artery and vein, sending me up to 11. This was always going to be the problem, wasn’t it? I could defend, but I had no offense. Nothing to break the stone. Nothing to hit the man attacking us with. Without Ophelia, I couldn’t win a fight against anything bigger than a goblin.

I tried to take stock of the situation, look for a weak point somewhere. A chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Lena, hiding back in the hallway. The man, seemingly waiting for the dust to clear. And the hand, which was sticking out from the wall. It was a full hand, connected to the wall at the wrist, with fingers wrapping around Ophelia’s body. Ophelia wasn’t too tall, and the wrist was relatively narrow, perhaps the size of her waist.

But that was all the time I was given to think. A few seconds, maybe. It was enough time to try the idea. Then my feet lost their footing as the ground shifted under me. Another one of those pillars shot up, catching me in the gut hard enough to send me off my feet and rolling to the side. It knocked the air out of my lungs and I was left gasping on the floor.

The tome fell to the side, pages open from where I had channeled as much mana as I could through them. A cloud of dust floated over me from the explosion as the spell had hit its target.

“Dad, that's enough.” I heard Ophelia, but I couldn’t see her, the dust now far too thick in the air. It would take time to settle since we were indoors without so much as a breeze to take it away.

I heard laughter, thick and deep again. That man had the deepest voice I had ever heard. It was surprisingly pleasant, when he laughed and spoke. “Fine. He passed. I see why you picked him Fi-Fi.”

Fie-Fie? Had he just called Ophelia Fie-Fie? Lena I could understand, but their dad too? I finally caught my breath enough to stand up, and made my way to the voices. Once I got close enough to see through the dust clouds in the air, I could see that Ophelia’s blade was at the neck of a slightly older man, looking like he was in his early 30’s.

He had black hair short close to his skull, no beard or facial hair at all from what I could see, and was slender. A pair of small square framed reading glasses was perched on his nose, with a fragile silver chain looped from the ear pieces around his neck, like a librarian. He was wearing a fitted, charcoal gray ensemble. A tunic that was almost skin tight, ending at his hips, pants that came down to sit overtop heavy black boots built for the snow.

All in all, the impression I was getting was of a scholar who liked to spend time in the gym. Fit, but still lithe and bookish.

“Dad. Was that really necessary?” Opehlia asked, staring up at her father who was easily a foot taller than her. He was taller than me as well for that matter. She looked annoyed, but not surprised.

“What do you mean, ‘was that really necessary?’ Of course it was necessary!” He put his hands up, pushing the rapier away from his neck. It quickly faded into magic and disappeared. Ophelia’s hands found her hips, and she just stared at him, radiating disappointment.

“You go out, alone, without permission. And when you come home, weeks later, you have a boy with you! I’m certainly not going to let him into our home if he can’t at least give a good showing.” He sounded defensive now. What in the world was up with this family?

“I told you I was going. We both know I needed to get a proper focus.”

“Yes, but you could have gone to the trial grounds in the city. There has been no proof that those untouched trials actually provide any real benefit, but they are certainly more dangerous.” No longer defensive, he had moved into concerned father tone.

“It was worth it. And I got a good one. Blood.” She said, sounding smug now.

I was somewhat tired of being ignored, and I knew I was going to have a good melon sized bruise on my stomach. I grunted as I took a deep breath to try and speak. Okay, maybe a cracked rib or two as well. “As much as I love to see a family reunion… What the hell was that?” I asked, staring at the man. On a whim, I used the scan/analysis function of the PSD to check him out. And yes, I know that the tab in the PSD says scan, but doesn’t ‘analyze’ sound so much cooler than ‘scan’?

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

Name: Titus Eilif

Race: Half-Elf (Demi-Vampire; Sanguinus)

Age: 76

Focus Core: Living Earth

Level: 2

Well. Another level 2. And why did those of a higher level have a two-word core? Roquain had been Flame Blade, or maybe Fire Sword? I couldn’t remember, but he had two words. Both were a noun and an adjective. Perhaps leveling up modified the original focus core? Too many questions. I was getting really tired of not knowing things. It was frustrating. And how hard was it to level up? Opehlia said elves could get their focus cores at 25. Which meant this guy probably had his for 50 years. Why had he only increased a single level?

My head hurt from the frustration I was feeling and the loss of the adrenaline. My body ached, my mana was spent, and I was covered in dust and dirt from the traveling. I stunk, I hadn’t had a bath since we left the tavern, and I was hungry. In other words, my mood was sour and I was out the discipline I needed to keep from mouthing off anymore.

Ophelia’s father, whose name was apparently Titus, opened his mouth, but I just kept talking. “I travel with your daughter, who asks me to come help her, to be her personal attendant, and the first thing you do is attack me? Who does that? What kind of batshit family is this?” I stared at Ophelia, who turned red and looked embarrassed.

I sighed. This wasn’t her fault. She had warned me her father would likely test me. I don’t think even she had imagined it would be like this though.

Titus just stared at me, his face inscrutable. I stared back, certainly not about to apologize. I had been gruff and rude, certainly, but not wrong.

“Well. At least you have a spine in you, not like some of the attendants the House brings back.” He finally said. “You two, go get some rest and wash up. We can talk more at dinner.”

And then he turned, and walked away. I stared after him, utterly flabbergasted. Just going to ignore me, just like that. I couldn’t get a read on the man.

“Sorry about him. He is a bit overprotective, ever since mom died.” Ophelia looked upset and embarrassed at the same time. I kept forgetting that she wasn’t really that much more mature than most teenagers back home. This was the beginning of adulthood for an elf, after all.

“It's not your fault. He is your father, whatever he does, it's on him, not you.”

She nodded, but didn’t seem convinced. But I let it go. I’d feel better after a bath and some food, and perhaps I could try to get along with that man, crazy as he was.

Lena led us up the stairs to the second floor. Ophelia was given her old room back, and I was given a guest room across the hall. The inside of the house was far more modern than anything I had seen so far. Hardwood floors adorned with rugs, windows with heavy, insulated panes, and some kind of lighting housed in glass and recessed into the ceiling. I didn’t think it was electric as the quality of the light was off, but it was better than a torch and there was even a switch for it next to the door.

The attached bathroom had plumbing and hot water. It felt like staying in an out of date hotel room, but with better decor. I bathed, washing off the dirt with the provided soap and shampoo, no conditioner though, and rinsed off my robes in the tub, hanging them to dry. The self-cleaning and self-repair function would have them dry in 10 minutes anyways. I had found it was faster to rinse and dry the garment, than to wait for it to clean itself of everything I had gotten on it, if I was in a rush.

An hour later, Ophelia came knocking at the door.

“Dinner’s ready, Niles.” She still seemed somewhat upset, but I didn’t say anything. I hadn’t forgiven her father just yet, but I wasn’t nearly as angry now that I felt clean again. Amazing what hygiene can do for your mental state, really.

We went down to the first floor and into a dining room clearly meant for more people than were present in the house. A long, rectangular table lined with 14 chairs sat in the middle of the room. Six on each side, and one at each head of the table. A maid was busy setting the table with dishes, each covered with one of those half-sphere lid things that I never learned the name of, despite watching an inordinate amount of cooking shows in my old life.

Titus was waiting for us, standing near the table and examining a picture on the wall. It was an oil painting of four women and two men. Titus and another man, this one blonde, were standing side by side next to two red haired women. One looked like a taller Ophelia, while the other had a family resemblance, but was different enough. A sister maybe? A young girl was holding an infant, standing between Titus and his wife in the painting.

I really didn’t want to be at odds with Titus. Even if that meant swallowing my pride. So I walked up to him, and gave a small bow. “Sir, I apologize for my words earlier. I was…” I paused, unable to admit to being wrong, because I didn’t feel I was. “Rude. I shouldn’t have said what I said, in the way I said it.” Good enough.

Titus was quiet for a moment, before he turned to face me. “I understand Niles. When my late wife brought me home, I was treated quite the same. I remember how it felt to be on the other end of that. It's… a tradition now. Something we do in order to make sure members of the family only bring in strong blood.” He offered me his hand.

“I won’t say I like it. Rather, I think it's a silly thing to do, considering what Ophelia told me about personal attendants. But I don’t want to be at odds with you. That would put her in a bad situation, and she doesn’t need that right now.” I took his hand in mine and we shook. I don’t think we would ever be friends, but I think we could manage leaving this in the past if it meant Ophelia didn’t have to try and manage us like children.

“I’m Titus. Titus Eilif. It's a pleasure to meet you Niles.”

The next few hours passed in relative peace. We all talked, sharing a few laughs and stories while eating the meal. It was good, but nothing worth bragging about. Eventually, Lena got sleepy and headed to bed, leaving just the three of us to talk.

“Ophelia, I’m glad your expedition seems to have gathered some good results, even if it was a bit on the foolish side.” Titus had shifted to serious talk mode, elbows on the table as he stared at us both. “Managing to get a blood focus. I don’t have to tell you how amazing that is for you. And you found a magus type barrier focus to bring back.” He was smiling now, a crooked, mischievous smile.

“It turned out better than I could have hoped. And Niles was a good find. He was in the same dungeon expedition as I was.” She went on to explain all of what happened, excluding the parts where I died and my origins. We had waited to talk about this until after Lena had left, since it was a bit dark.

“Truly? You two managed a dire wolf kill, and a mutated one at that…” he shook his head, laughing. “Look, I don’t have to tell you how important the next competition is for us. We have just shy of 18 months to prepare. You both need to get as close to the next stage of your development as possible in that time.”

Ophelia nodded along, while I stayed quiet. I figured it was better to listen than constantly interrupt with questions.

“We can have Sophia and Clyde come down to teach Niles, since I’m assuming you’ve never had a hint of combat training in your life?” Halfway through the sentence, Titus started looking at and addressing me instead.

“Not a bit. Frankly, I grew up in a tiny hamlet that didn't even have access to a trial ground, so I’m not really familiar with how the focus cores even really work.”

Titus whistled. “That's unfortunate. You have a lot to learn then. But I don’t think it's impossible. The real issue is that some of the families have contenders who have been doing this for years.” He pursed his lips, thinking. “I’ll send out the messengers in the morning. Hopefully, we can begin tomorrow.”