And just like that, I was 8 years old. My father had continued to give me general lessons on several different weapons, indulging me while also letting me know that it probably wasn’t wise to spread myself so thin. Of course I knew this, but I also knew what my goals were and he didn’t, even as said goals were constantly shifting. He had taught me how to use a spear, a glaive, a quarterstaff,a number of different types of swords, and a bow. Gods was I awful with bows. Right, there were gods here. The main pantheon consisted of ten, as most things in this world seemed to gravitate towards that number. I found it odd, earth focused on multiples of three whereas here everything was in multiples of five. Cultural differences, I supposed.
In the meantime my mother had taught me a bevy of other, probably more important topics. She had shown me how to read and write, which I picked up quickly in an effort to be able to learn more about this world. She taught me to forage, all sorts of things about growing herbs and medicines, and how to fix my own quickly worn out training clothes. She did this after I tore another pair of pants just a week after the previous one. It was nice learning from Mom, and she seemed to know a lot more than she let on. What I mean is, she often was able to point out and recognize most plants without referencing her guides, even those that had remarkably similar features. She knew far more about the nation's politics than father did.
“Lios, come at me,” My father interrupted my thoughts and waved me over, tauntingly. One hand stretched out, otherwise standing in a casual stance, my father extended two fingers before curling them back towards himself, physically saying “Come on, come at me.”
Our training sessions hadn’t changed overmuch. He was still forced to hold himself back, and significantly at that. I’d finally figured out how strong my parents actually were. Most people around town were around level thirty, which frankly felt a bit low to me, especially considering a person could unlock a second class at level fifty, and could get a class upgrade at level one hundred. In cities like Port Airos, the capital of Jorial, the average level rose quite a bit. The median would be something like level seventy-five, rather than our thirty. Warriors and adventurers were more likely to reach higher levels than craftsmen and tradespeople. My father was around level seventy-five, one of the three strongest in our town right after the guard commander and our resident blacksmith Darren. It was truly impressive when a craftsman was at a high level. From my understanding levels came from experience gained or essence absorbed. In the case of craftsmen, they would typically only gain experience through strengthening their understanding of their craft, for warriors they could gain experience in their skills as well as absorb essence from the creatures they slew. My mother, given that she was mainly a tradeswomen and crafter, was around level 40, which was fairly impressive for her age.
Heeding my fathers challenge, I rushed him with a longsword in my hand. I sometimes switched from a single hand or dual hand grip when using this sword, this time aiming for quickness over strength. Strength, when fighting my father, was almost useless considering my win would only be determined by if I could land a blow on him. Speed was mostly useless too, unless it was coupled with my ingenuity. He stood in the center of our makeshift training grounds, the perimeter marked by six other weapons: the glaive, three types of swords, a spear and a staff with flowing red ribbons on either side.
I lunged at him, growling my intent as he simply weaved around my strike and smacked my arm in retaliation to let me know where I’d opened myself up for counterattack. I responded by leaping to the side, rolling, then upon bouncing back up grabbing the spear that I’d conveniently placed myself beside with my off hand. I threw it at him as I jumped in the direction I expected him to dodge. The spear went wide over his head as he ducked and sidestepped in the direction I expected, and I responded in kind, my blade swinging at him with both hands on the grip. The blade sang with the wind as it neared him, closing in on his belly.
“Woop! Nice attempt Lios! If you were a bit faster you'd have got me!” My father sang praises as he did the limbo under the dull metal, dodging it cleanly. But I wasn’t finished.
I used the momentum of the swing to twist my body in an attempt to kick downward at him, catching him in the gut with my shin. He let out a gruff grunt and gracefully stood back up, likely not fully feeling my kick despite me putting my all into it. Stats were truly unfair.
“Wow wow! Is that what, the third time in two years you’ve managed to hit me?” He laughed proudly, watching me pant from the burst of effort. “Ya know, you might think I’m making fun of you but... That's really impressive for someone with their base stats. I’m proud of you kiddo.” He ruffled my slightly sweaty hair. “Okay, one more time. Put the spear back where it was, afterwards we should get some breakfast.”
I couldn’t help the smile that grew on my face as he praised me. My heart grew warm, my face flushed a little bit, thankfully hidden by the exertion. “Yes, sir!” Whenever we trained I took to calling him ‘sir’ rather than dad, or father. He was waking himself up earlier just to train me, the least I could do was being a little respectful.
The next spar was much less successful. He continued dodging me but this time was able to easily predict my tactics. He paid closer attention to me, trying not to let me land another blow. And, of course, predictably, I didn't. He wasn’t joking about how I’ve only managed to land three strikes on him in the hundreds, perhaps thousands, of spars we’ve had.
After another fifteen minutes or so we saw my mother in the doorway, watching us. I wasn’t sure how long she’d been there but I knew it meant breakfast was ready.
“Lios. Lets stop for now, before your mother grows impatient.” One time, we had been so engrossed in our training that we didn't notice she was ready for us. By the time we had come inside the food was cold and she had refused to eat her portion. In order to teach us a bit of a lesson she served us cold porridge the rest of the week while she had meat, potatoes and eggs and fruits. My mom could be a little petty sometimes, so we tried our best not to anger her.
“Yes sir!” I chuckle to myself at the memory.
As we sat at the table my mother brought us our plates, steaming and warm and delicious. “Done sparring?” she asked. “Lios, you seem to have improved a lot. Don’t let your dad give you too hard a time.”
“Yeah, I can feel myself getting stronger day by day!” I exclaim before filling my mouth with a forkful of potato, meat and sausage.
“You won’t believe it Elaine! He landed a blow on me. And I didn’t let him.” My fathers excitement was palpable as my mother fixed her gaze on me, impressed.
“Reaally? And how did you manage to let an eight year old touch you during a fight?” My mothers eyes twinkled, pride touching upon her smirk.
My father, through a mouthful of food, described what I’d done. Near the end of his embellishment I felt a bit self conscious, especially since all I’d managed was to kick him ineffectively.
“I take it that you haven't been discouraged from being an adventurer then?” Mother asked me after father finished the short, but exaggerated tale. Her tone was soft, she had told me once that only around thirty percent of adventurers are successful. A majority either die or are injured to an extent at which they can’t recover, either mentally or physically. And the rest quit, the turnover rate was truly impressive.
“Don’t worry, I keep telling you I’ll be careful.” I said after swallowing my latest bite. My plate was nearly empty. “Also, I think my second class is going to be a crafting one. Do you think Derren would take me as an apprentice when I turn ten?”
Darren made everything in our town, from tools to nails to swords and armor. And much more. He usually had a group of teenagers to help him run his forge, and now one true assistant. He had come to Arborton from another country, Marthis, around five years ago.
“What, you want to be a smith now too? What's next, fishing? Lumberjack?” My father started to laugh boisterously, cackling at the newest addition to my hobby suite.
My mother just shook her head and smirked at us.
“It's all part of the plan!” I said with confidence, puffing out my chest. Truthfully, I wasn’t sure if I'd stick with it, but I did know I at least wanted to try.
“You sure you can handle that on top of everything else? I mean you already train for at least 4 hours every day, and then there’s your studying.” My mother commented, the grin still splayed over her face.
“Hmmm... In that case I’ll just have to finish my studying before I turn ten.” There was a mischievous glint in my eyes. “Besides, if I can make my own gear I can be a fully autonomous adventurer.” I smiled wide at the thought, looking between my parents amused expressions. They had gotten used to my asking them to teach me different things, but this was the first time I’d sought help from someone else. Even still they didn't seem so shocked.
“Ya know, sometimes it's hard to remember that you’re just a kid. I dont think I’ve ever seen such an ambitious kid. I’m sure Derren would be willing to at least hear you out.” My mother laughed again, probably expecting me to come up with a different hobby or crafting skill by the time I grew up.
“I hope so, that would be soooo cool. Can you imagine? I'd be able to use all the materials I gathered myself to make my own gear. I could hunt a dragon and use its scales!” I exaggerated my excitement, trying to play up the fact that I was, in fact, still a child. Sometimes I definitely forgot to keep up the act, but my parents didn’t seem to suspect anything. Her comment did send a pulse of guilt through me. I had already resolved to tell them everything when I turned ten, but part of me wanted to spill the beans now, to be honest. I just didn’t know how they’d react.
“Well, enough about that. I’ll ask him but you have plenty of other things to do until then.” My father had practically licked his plate clean while we were talking. “Have you noticed there are a couple kids who keep watching you practice?”
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I looked at him and cocked my head. “I have. They weren’t very sneaky. Why do you ask?”
“Well, one of their parents asked if you’d be willing to help train her, since you're training all day anyway.” With that said his face widened into a grin, and a bratty expression took over his eyes. “Looks like she has eyes for you boyo!”
I rolled my eyes and scoffed. “I doubt it's anything like that, dad.” I though back on the kids that had been watching me lately. It had started off sporadically, around six months ago, but the past few weeks three kids had been consistently watching me. Some of the kids had asked, at first, if I wanted to come and play but I always found some excuse not to. I thought about the three that had been watching daily, a young girl and two older boys. “I wouldn’t mind helping them though.”
“Of course you don't mind. You did say you’d be a ladies man when you grew stronger.” My mom joined my dad in teasing me, laughing at my expense.
“I’m not even strong yet!” I protested much to their chagrin. I didn’t mind. My heart was full with these two in my life.
“The other two, the boys, wanted to take some training too.” My father admitted after they finished teasing me. He was donning his greaves, I reached over to help a little bit, mostly just prepping the next one.
“The more the merrier!” I said, thankful that at least a few colloquialisms were common between the two worlds, or at least close enough to it.
“As a side note...” My mother began slowly, before walking into their room and coming back out holding a package wrapped in simple brown butcher paper. It was what we had most of, at least for wrapping things. “Your father and I got you something. For your birthday.” They didn’t get me gifts for most birthdays, but I was okay with that. Usually we just had a slightly better than average meal and called it good.
“You didn’t have to!” My eyes were wide, and my grubby hands were already reaching for the package.
“We know that, but it’s something you really wanted, right?” My mother laughed again as I eagerly grabbed it despite my meager protests. To be honest, I loved the sounds of her and fathers laughs.
I opened it gingerly, already having a general idea of what it could be based on the weight and shape. My suspicions proved correct as I unveiled two books. Large books. One seemed new, or at least lightly used, and the other was fairly beat up. I didn’t mind, especially as I read the titles.The beat up one had a green cover with faded gold lettering. The title was ‘Runecrafting, Using Lexico Runes’, with no discernable author. The newer book, which was a bit heavier, had a black cover with silver letters. Its title was ‘Introduction to Lexico Runewrit’ by one Alizard M. Riche.
I gingerly ran my hands across both of the covers, my eyes wide as saucers. Tears of joy were welling up. I set the books down gingerly before leaping at my mother and wrapping her in a hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I love you guys!”
My father got up and put a hand on my head, playfully asking, “How come you only say that when we get you stuff?”
“I'm sorry the one is a bit beat up...” My mother intoned, perhaps thinking I was tearing up from disappointment.
“It’s okay I promise! A book is a book!” I turned from her and hugged my father tightly.
My parents started making some idle conversation as we finished our breakfast. I kept glancing at the books but refrained from opening them just yet. If I started looking them over I’d probably be lost in them all day. I just smiled as they chatted, trying to think instead about the other kids that I would soon find watching me practice.
“Lios, I’m off to work now. I’ll talk to Derren when I do my rounds, but keep in mind you won't even start that for another couple years.” My fathers voice broke me away from my thoughts. I smile and wave at him as he steps out the door, calling over his shoulder, “Don’t forget to introduce yourself to those kids. And finish your practice before you lose yourself in the books.”
“Yes sir! I’ll go out after I help with the dishes!” I said as I started to clean up, it was the least I could do.
“Thank you, son, you're such a good kid!” My mother exclaimed as I finished up the dishes.
I began to walk towards the door, biting my bottom lip as I thought about my next few steps. “Mom, do you know how to dance? Could you teach me some time?”
I glanced back at her sheepishly as she bent over, clutching her sides and stomach, laughing louder than I ever had heard her laugh before. “D dancing? You want to learn to dance now?”
“Y. yeah I want to learn to dance. Come on, it's not that funny!” I protested as she continued to cackle for the next minute or so.
Finally she stood up, wiping tears from her eyes. “Of all the things... You’ve asked your father and I to teach you so many things but dancing is the most confounding. Your father is going to love this.”
“It’s not that weird mom!” I exclaimed, shuffling my feet, feeling self conscious.
“Uhhuh. Not that weird for an eight year old boy to ask his mom to teach him to dance? You do know most boys your age would scoff at the idea of dancing. Is this part of your grand plan? A new step to attract all of the ladies?” My mom laughs again, teasing me lightheartedly. Despite my blush, I really didn’t mind. I could feel the warmth in her laughter.
“Exactly, so you understand Mother!” I nodded emphatically, though that isn’t the reason I want to learn. ”You told me how women like to dance and think it's attractive when men can.”
“Yes yes I did, though now I wonder if I should have kept quiet. My darling, sweet son is going to be a lecher when he grows up.”
“So will you teach me?” I looked up at her with the puppy dog eyes, knowing she couldn't say no to me.
“Of course I will. But not today, you gotta go make some friends now. I mean it, you best invite them over to train.” She shooed me out of the house.
“Okay okay I will.” I waved bye to her, and walked back to the center of my weapon circle. The sun had risen quite a bit, so my clearing was teeming with light. I began to work my way through the different forms and stances and techniques, beginning with the shortsword.
My plans had shifted a bit since I was first born. The overall concept was still the same, but the means to get there had changed quite a bit. The more I learned about how classes and skills worked, the more it shifted until I reached my current set of goals. There was a book of classes available at the library but it didn’t have anything remotely similar to the type of class I was shooting for.
My understanding of the system was that once I gained the system I’d be able to choose ten general skills. These were skills that anyone could get with enough effort and practice, or by meeting the right criteria. Any practice prior to acquiring the skill would not add to the skills experience, and would not change the skills level, but if I exhibited a certain degree of skill above my skills level I’d level up faster, until it reached equilibrium with my natural skill level. Once I reached level ten I’d be able to select my first class. The options for which class I could pick up would be determined by a number of factors: my skills, my achievements, my personality, actions, etc. Nobody was quite sure what all of the criteria were, just that there were a bunch of them. Unlike in video games, stats were a hidden factor. This meant that an individual could not allocate free points or anything of that sort to gain instant improvements in a given field, but would rather be automatically assigned stats based on what the system felt you had earned. One’s class would have a heavy influence, but there would be a number of “Floating” stat points that were distributed based on the activities between level ups. People could check their stats by going to a guild hall or acquiring an obscenely expensive tablet that could quantify a person's strengths.
My goal, since the beginning really, was to curate and create a class based on a number of interests that I’d had in my past life. I wanted a class that would allow me to be both a combatant and a crafter, but recently decided to separate the two classes and hopefully have some shared skills between them, after I found out that people gained a second class at level fifty. My ideal combat class would combine swordsmanship with enchanting and dancing, allowing me to cast spells with a certain series of movements and hopefully, once I gained a crafting class, allowing me to enchant the gear I created. Most spells were either cast via runes and inscriptions, or through verbal and physical components. Of course, these took some time to set up unlike the system guided spells and abilities we could gain. The benefit of such spells was that one was only limited by their creativity and intelligence. Wizards were a true force to be reckoned with even though many of their spells took plenty of time to set up. Some “true” spells, as they were called by wizards, were influenced by a number of skills the caster had. For example, a wizard with an elemental affinity would be able to cast a stronger spell in that element than a sorcerer -an individual who relied solely on the system to cast spells- would be able to.
I pondered this as I waited for the other kids to show up. It wasn’t a very long time, just enough time for me to break a sweat and finish my first cycle of exercises with each weapon. After he started training me in a half dozen different weapons, we created a routine that would allow me to cycle through them all and practice them pretty much nonstop for an hour with each cycle.. I sauntered over to the well, glancing at the edge of my house where the three stood, watching me. The girl looked away when I caught them staring, the boys seemed like they wanted to call out but were acting shy. After I finished my drink, and dumped a little water down my warm, tanned back, I walked towards them. I forgot I had my shortsword in hand until one of the boys backed up and raised his hands.
I frowned and stabbed the sword into the dirt, wiping the sweat off my hand before holding it out. “Sorry, uhm.. I’m Lios, would you guys like to join me?” I put on a somewhat shy and sheepish smile, feeling awkward. I glanced over my shoulder as I heard faint rustling in the treeline, seeing my happy fox friend at the edge of the woods. As I was distracted one of the boys, the taller of the two, grasped my hand and shook it. He had a pretty firm grip for his age.
“Ento, you wouldn’t mind?” He introduced himself, some redness coloring his cheeks.
I shook my head and kept up my smile. Once he released my hand I quickly jogged into the middle of my circle. “Come on, I don’t mind at all. Though, I'm not sure how much I can help you. Also, sorry for taking so long to introduce myself.” I scratched my neck sheepishly.
They all exchanged a look before following me, standing on the outside of the circle for now. I watched them look over the small arsenal of training weapons surrounding me.
“So, we have Ento, who might you two be?” I asked the others as Brioche approached us cautiously, curious about the new people I was suddenly surrounded by. The girls eyes widened and her mouth split into an ear to ear grin seeing the fox.
“Maya. Is this your fox?” She crouched and extended a hand towards the silver furred animal.
“Just a friend of mine, her name is Brioche.” I noticed my mother standing in the doorway watching us, grinning.
“Ralphy. It would be amazing to join you, Lios.” The other boy, around my height despite being around a year older, introduced himself.
Brioche, ever curious, approached Maya and sniffed her hand. After glancing at me for approval, watching me nod in assent, she nuzzled her head into the girl's hand eliciting a squeal of delight. I watched quietly for a number of minutes trying to clear my thoughts.