Jurot spent a part of his evening outside, swinging his axe, completing a light set of training. The way his axe glided through the air, it was so different. He needed to get used to how his body had grown in the past few months.

‘Not months,’ Jurot thought, staring at his palm, before clenching his fist. Ever since they had left the Iyr to enter the tournament, his body had gone through an explosive change. They had fought a few beasts, but against the ice trolls, he had managed to realise just how much his body had changed. It wasn’t just that the Iyrman had grown more powerful, for he had reached a particular height gained through experience, but something had been amplified.

‘I have done it,’ Jurot thought, surprised. Some time before becoming a Grandmaster, he would have reached the peak for his natural strength. Some time before becoming a Paragon, he would have reached the peak for his natural toughness. Then, beyond Paragon, with enough luck, with enough slaughter, he would have reached even greater heights, the heights known to great beings, giants, dragons.

Except.

Right now, before even becoming a Master, Jurot could feel it. The ceiling that was the natural peak of strength. His fist shook slightly as he tried to control his great strength, but it continued to shake.

Kitool, too, sat and meditated within her room. She inhaled the crisp air of the north, feeling it fill her lungs, which seemed to be able to hold in slightly more air than previous, before exhaling. Yet, it wasn’t just her physical toughness which had improved, not enough to truly effect her combat abilities, but her day to day life had certainly grown easier. Except, there it was. She could feel it. Not just it, but the world around her. She could feel the chill against her skin, the fibres of the cloth against her skin, and she could even smell the harshness of the North in the air.

She might have even sensed Jaygak in the next room.

‘What have you done, Adam?’ Jaygak thought. She looked down to her hand, seeing the callouses of her skin, many of which she had earned when she was younger. When she had torn through the ice troll, her blade moved with a swiftness she hadn’t expected. Her muscles strained less, her movement did not tire her as much, and her lungs accepted air in so easily, one might have thought she was born in the Rot family.

Except, she still wasn’t quite that nimble.

The girl stared at her hand for a long while, her mind turning back to the time she was a girl.

It was sunny that day.

The sun dared to bear down against the Iyr, bringing with it a heat that one might have thought was unreasonable, even for the sun. Indeed, many of the children complained to Elder Zijin, telling them to speak with the sun so that it would not bully them so much.

“I will do my best to speak with the sun,” Zijin said, understanding it was borderline impossible. Not impossible, for there was a one in a lifetime opportunity that would never repeat itself for the Elder to speak to the sun, but it was not impossible.

“Father!” called the girl, who was slightly older than the others. “Is there a way to defeat the sun?”

“I’m not father, I am the Elder,” Zijin replied, though seeing the fury within his daughter’s eyes, he glanced away.

“I know, I know,” the girl said, holding out a piece of paper. “I have written my request!”

“…” Zijin stared down at the words. “You should work on your handwriting.”

“I do not need for my handwriting to be well for you to take my petition seriously.”

“I will see what I can do,” the Elder replied, responding in a way that was satisfactory enough for the girl to leave. ‘The children must be really annoyed if they are to trouble me like this.’

Children. Trouble.

The words caused Zijin to furrow his brows. He recalled all the children who had come to see him.

‘Hmm?’

The Elder made his rounds, starting with a particular estate. His eyes fell across the quiet girl, her hair cut into a bob, and always so well behaved. Then there was the boy, whose hair had been recently trimmed by his father, the boy sticking to him like glue. Of course, the other boy was probably in the other estate. Then he found… a boy, who was red of skin, with small horns. The boy was so young, so chubby, but even that didn’t give him protection from her.

‘Where is she?’

“Ten!” the girl said, marking down a piece of chalk, before running to the ball to pick it up. “One!” she declared, tossing the ball again.

“She is not causing trouble today?” Zijin asked, standing with his arms crossed behind his back.

“Our Jaygak? Trouble?” Tangak asked, narrowing his eyes at the young Elder. “I should invite brother to come and speak with you.”

“I have so much work to do, please…”

“Our Jaygak, trouble?” Tangak grumbled. “I sometimes like my tea spicy, there is nothing wrong with it!” The Iyrman sipped his tea, wincing out of habit, before realising his tea hadn’t been spiked. ‘Ah, right. Perhaps I do prefer it without spice, but…’

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Zijin counted the marks on the floor, while the girl had marked another line. “Ten tens,” Zijin said, causing the girl to snap out of her trance. “How much is ten tens?”

“One hundred!” the girl replied. She was certain of that much, because that’s what the adults always told her.

“Yes…” Zijin stared down at the marks, then glanced aside, to marks which had been marked recently, though not that day. “You like to play with the ball?”

“Yes, I love it!”

“You are normally so lazy, but when it is hot, you are always so full of energy?”

“When it is hot, I am stronger than Jurot,” the girl said, smirking.

“That is because he has not learnt his family’s way, and then, when he dances, he might be stronger?”

“Yes, but I can always fighting the heat,” the girl said, certain of that much, because that’s what her family always told her.

“So you can.” Zijin reached out a hand, and the girl allowed him to ruffle her hair. “I have some time today. Should I teach you how to count to one hundred properly?”

“You will teach me?” Jaygak asked, her eyes full of shock.

“Yes, but you have to be well behaved,” Zijin said, suddenly tensing up.

“Who will tell our Jaygak to behave?” a voice floated through the air.

Zijin turned to face him, feeling a strange chill run through his back. ‘Who said he had calmed down in his retirement?’ Even now, he could sense the aura of death which clung to the Iyrman, whose hair fell to his shoulders, who wore a wild grin on his face. The only blessing to the Elder was that his uncle had apparently arranged for some of his stash to be sent to the Iyrman, for the old man sipped the gourd in one hand, and carried a sack in the other.

“Did he leave some before he left?” Tangak asked, far too excitedly.

“You certainly are your uncle’s nephew, Elder,” Jarot said, dropping the sack, while sipping the gourd, wincing slightly. “You are both so wise indeed!”

“Dado! Dado!” Jaygak called, grinning wide at the old man, before charging up to him.

“Jaygak,” Jarot called, hoisting the girl up, before tossing her into the air. “Have you troubled the Elder?”

“No! I did not! I did not!” She giggled with delight, before the old man allowed her to stand on her own feet. “No trouble today, only a little bit, for mamo.” The girl smirked.

“To mamo Gangak?”

“No!” The girl’s smirk said otherwise.

“What did you do?”

“I did not!” Jaygak gasped, as though offended. “I did not hide her sword.”

“Jaygak, I said you could not hide mamo’s sword!” Tangak said, suddenly wishing she had spiked his drink.

“I did not!” Jaygak squealed with delight.

“I will take Jaygak with me,” Zijin said.

“You will take my grandniece from me?” Jarot asked, his lips forming a small smirk.

‘Damn it.’ Zijin could feel the trouble that the old man would cause. “Jaygak, do you wish to remain here, or do you wish to learn to count to one hundred?”

“One hundred!” The girl punched the air above. “One! Hundred!”

“Why do you need to count?” Jarot asked, letting out a small growl.

“How else will she know how many dragons to slay?” a voice replied, the older red skinned woman asked, resting her wrist between her sword and her waist.

‘She found it?’ Jaygak thought, only growing more impressed by her grandaunt. ‘It was under the blanket! How can she find it?’

Gangak threw Jaygak a look, causing the girl to quickly scramble beside the Elder, tripping over, only to be caught be the Elder’s swift reflexes.

“Elder Zijin, come, we learn to count,” the girl said, holding up her hand, her guilty face urging him to immediately evacuate.

“It seems I must leave with Jaygak,” Zijin said, glad she was so smart at times like this. ‘I will prepare you more peppers, my Jaygak.’

Since the girl had given him the justification, the pair quickly left, with the trio of older Iyrman watching them go.

“You found it?” Tangak asked. “Was it upon your bed?”

“I noticed the sword shape under the blanket,” Gangak replied. “She is growing smarter with each passing day.”

“Of course she is, since she is our grandniece,” Jarot said, noting the way the pair stared at him. “Her aunt is my daughter, so that makes her my grandniece too!”

“She cannot be your grandniece, since you are so stupid,” Gangak dared to say.

“You should be glad you found that sword of yours,” Jarot said, reaching for his axe.

Meanwhile, Jaygak continued to lead the Elder back. “Mamo is too smart, Elder.”

“That is right.”

“How can she be so strong and smart? It is not fair.”

“You are strong and smart too.”

“I am not strong, I am not smart.”

“I think you are smart and strong.”

“I am?”

“Yes.”

“…” Jaygak smirked. “I am so strong and smart.”

“You do not have to worry, Jaygak, for you are an Iyrman.”

“Elder Zijin?”

“Yes?”

“I am so strong, I can beat the Aldish?”

Zijin smiled. “The Iyr will train you so that you will not lose against the Aldish.”

“I do not like them.”

“I know.” Zijin lifted the girl up, carrying her within an arm. “You must promise me, Jaygak.”

“Promise?”

“You must promise me, that no matter what, you must try your best.”

“I will try.”

“Even if it is hard to learn, you must learn.”

“I know, I know! Daddy always tell me I must try, I try all the time, but not when I am tired.”

“You are tired most days. I know it is difficult, but you must try, even when you are tired.”

“I try.”

“I know.” Zijin smiled. “Now, you must promise me something else.”

“Mm?”

“You must promise me that you will stop hiding your father’s boots.”

“Elder Zijin! How can you say? I going to tell dado!”

“Hmmm. Fine. However, you cannot hide them much, because he will be sad.”

“Daddy will be sad?”

“Yes. If you bully him too much, he will be sad.”

“Okay. I will hide mommy’s shoes too.”

Zijin blinked. “I did not mean…”

The girl yawned, resting her head against the Elder’s shoulder, who carried her to his estate. He allowed her to nap, while completing his work. He stared down at the notes for a long moment, before glancing aside to Jaygak. The girl slept, her face full of innocence that her soul did not possess, or perhaps, possessed in too much abundance.

‘Fakrot, please return to handle your father, and Chayrot, please return to handle your niece.’ Zijin smiled, returning back to his notes, preparing to teach the girl how to count to a hundred. ‘I should inform the warehouse to send Jogak a few more pairs of boots.’

After all, the best way for Jaygak to learn how to count to one hundred was to reward her for stealing her father’s boots. It was probably the second best, but should he need to justify himself, he could ask for assistance from the girl.

‘You will help me, will you not, Jaygak?’ Zijin thought for a long moment. ‘I should just use the ball.’

The girl continued to sleep, laying under the harsh sun.

The young woman continued to stare, laying under the nightval moon. The chill of the night seeped into her, but she warded it off with her toughness, and the thick blanket she had bought from the first northern town they had stopped at.

Jaygak sighed, making her way to the Guild’s training area, grabbing Great Moon, before beginning her swings. She took a momentary pause after the hundredth swing. She stared at Great Moon for a long moment, recalling how she had learnt to count to a thousand.

‘I should buy Elder Zijin a gift.’