Dear Ms. Tara,

How are you doing? And how are the children? I hope Moss is keeping his hands to himself and not hitting anyone. What about Old Wen? Does he still sleep all morning? Please make sure to take good care of them.

Good news abounds as I write to you, Ms. Tara. Well, I guess you must have heard from Doti, Dreamer, and Whisper already. So sorry I’m writing to you this late. We all were taken in as disciples of various families in the city. And I was taken in by the Royal family. Isn’t that amazing?

We get little stipends every two tendays. I’ll make sure to send you some resources as soon as I can so you can advance your core. Oh, and I’m Blank now. Jumped straight from being a mortal to Blank! From what I hear it has never been done before. Guess I’m one of a kind, heh?

Please give my love to all the children. And let them know I’m thinking of them always.

Your boy,

Jerome.

Jerome read his letter again before nodding. It was simple and short, expressing the thoughts of an excited child.

This should do, he thought. He blew out his oil lamp and climbed into bed.

~~~

Jerome woke up before the crack of dawn. His body had fallen asleep without much effort, which was weird. It was never that easy as a mortal to fall asleep when you still had so much energy in you. He chucked it up to being more in control of his own body. Or maybe he was very tired and just didn’t know it.

He picked up a piece of paper used to wrap a twig. The twig was from an oak tree in the courtyard of the palace. Jerome washed the twig in a wooden bowl of water set on his table and began chewing on it. Oak had antibacterial properties and a fibrous texture. It was the closest to a toothbrush he could get but that was fine.

Jerome washed his face and got ready for training. He checked the small compartment in his belt to assure himself he had the letter he had written the night before with him. He left to go locate the training hall he’d be training in from now on.

~~~

“The first order of business is for you to clean this place from top to bottom. Make sure you don’t miss a spot,” Rihal said as he threw Jerome a piece of cloth. There was a large bucket of water beside him, waiting for Jerome.

Jerome scowled. “Where are the other apprentices? Thought I’ll be training with others today.” He took his time to look around him. They were in an underground training hall inside Kilian’s Palace. The training hall was huge — easily 5,000 square feet, maybe more. with a few weapons hanging on racks by the south wall. The soil on the ground had hardened from lack of use.

He took off his belt, robe, and tunic. And after folding them, he placed them carefully on one of the racks, grabbed the bucket of water, and went about his duty.

“One-on-one training is more beneficial to your growth.”

Jerome spent less time than expected cleaning the training hall and weapons racks all around the walls of the hall. He discovered his ability to jump very high, higher than ten feet without effort. This boosted his morale and he kept going faster and faster until the work was done.

“Now, you run two hundred laps around the hall with this,” Rihal said, pointing at a bag at his feet.

Jerome smiled, ready for the challenge. It was already so satisfying to be strong. But he wanted to know how strong he was. What were his limits? If he had none, fine. If he did, he was going to break them.

The bag was heavy, maybe filled with stones. The dirt floor of the training hall looked smaller now that he had cleaned the whole place from top to bottom — and he wasn’t even breathing hard.

Jerome took off running, maintaining a steady speed. He breezed past Rihal after his first revolution in less than twenty breaths. He felt elated as he breezed through the hall. He felt the urge to increase his speed but tamped it down. The bag he was carrying might not be heavy now, but he’d start to feel the burn soon.

After 150 laps, he started to feel the burn in his thighs but he kept at it. 200 laps in and his thighs were stinging him. Jerome laughed. He was no stranger to pain. He kept at it, refusing to slow down. 210 laps, 220, 240,...,300, 350 laps. Jerome collapsed on the dirt floor, breathing hard. He was tired but excited. No athlete from his previous world could go that fast for that long.

“Get up. Your training isn’t over,” Rihal called out.

“Give me a moment to catch my breath, please,” he said, still breathing hard.

Rihal yanked him up and took the bag from his back. “That was supposed to be a warm-up. 200 laps should be 200 laps when I say 200 laps.” He dragged Jerome towards a weapons rack. “Now, pick a weapon. Something that suits you.”

Jerome scowled up at him but did as he was told. He took a deep breath to steady his breathing and bring it under control. It happened like magic. His body responded to him quicker than he thought. The burning in his lungs ceased and the tension in his thighs relaxed.

“Wow. That was amazing,” he couldn’t help but say.

“You’re a sacred artist. Your body heals itself really fast,” Rihal said with a chuckle. “If the wounds aren’t too deep. Now pick a weapon.”

Jerome browsed the rack for the right weapon. There was a long sword with blunt edges, a katana — which he was surprised to see.

“What’s this one called?” he asked, pointing at the katana.

“That’s from the eastern continent. It’s called a katana,” Rihal said with a frown. “Is that your choice?”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Jerome shook his head, wondering why there were so many similarities with his previous world. Was this another universe but similar to his own? He never truly leaned into fiction in his previous world. And scientists did have theories about a multiverse. But they were all just that — theories.

He skimmed his hand over the handle of a spear and it felt right. Hefting it in his hands, Jerome found it the perfect fit. Only the blade was too short. He thrusted at the air once and then two times, liking the feel and flow and the weapon. It had a good reach and would keep opponents at bay.

“This one,” he said. “But I’d like it better if the blade was longer…and maybe broader.” The thin, short spike that made it a spear couldn’t be called a blade by his consideration.

“Very well. I’ll teach you some basic forms now and you must practice them consistently,” Rihal said. “Watch and mimic my moves.”

He walked out to the center of the training hall, holding a bo staff and Jerome joined him.

~~~

The little devil was a natural. Well, it didn’t take sacred artists long to learn new skills but he was weirdly familiar with the forms. It only took one trial for him to master them and flow from one to another with perfect execution.

This must be because of his uniqueness, Rihal thought as he watched Jerome go through the forms again and again.

There was a lot about Jerome that was a mystery to him and only time would reveal them. All he knew was that the boy had a very dark future ahead of him. The only way to prevent that was to help him keep his sanity. Rihal’s mind drifted to Kilian’s search for something that could be effective enough to help Jerome. They had to try one way or another. Not just for Jerome’s sake but for all of their sakes.

After a while, he gestured for him to stop. “Now I’m going to attack you but I want you to go through the forms just as you have been. The attacks would increase in momentum and minute changes would be made. You have to notice these changes and act accordingly. After getting used to them, try to control the battle at your discretion.”

Jerome nodded, signaling that he understood.

“Ready?” Rihal asked. “First form!” He lunged at Jerome and his staff was parried away.

“Second…third,” he announced as he attacked and Jerome flowed with him until they completed all the forms. Rihal watched the concentration on the boy’s face. But more than that, Jerome was smiling happily.

Rihal increased the speed of his attacks and Jerome’s face tightened in focus. He didn’t slow down one bit. Instead, he sped up. And there was a little more force to his parry.

“I’m speeding up again,” Rihal announced after a while.

Now the little devil was finding it hard to keep up. Which meant he was at the limit of his speed. Rihal kept pressuring him. Blow after blow was parried but with a lot more effort. The boy was practically huffing now, and sweating. But he kept his breathing even, exhaling before their weapons struck each other. That was great and all, but if he was to survive Pilgrims’ Keep, he would need to do better than he was doing now.

“Ok, Jerome. I’ll be using slight variations of my attacks,” he said without stopping. “Here goes.”

~~~

How the hell did I ever come to believe this guy was blind? Blind my foot! Jerome though. The ability to fight like this cannot be replicated by a blind man. Rihal was moving with blinding speed. His bo staff was almost a blur to Jerome’s eyes and he was having trouble following it.

“Ok, Jerome. I’ll be using slight variations of my attacks,” Rihal said without stopping. “Here goes.”

Rihal’s staff increased in speed and the attack sequence he’d been using changed. Jerome was finding it hard to keep up before but now, he was taking hits from everywhere. He fell into the first form again, repeating it from the beginning and trying to follow Rihal’s moves. The man was fast, far faster than he was before.

He tried to parry a lunge from the staff but the force pushed him sideways. Rihal pushed his spear out of the way and extended his left leg to kick him. Jerome went with the flow, crouching down, thereby breaking the flow of his forms. He rotated on his knees and freed his spear, raising it to parry Rihal’s staff again. Then he fell back into the forms but went for the knees and feet.

Rihal had to backpedal to keep his feet safe. Jerome knew he wasn’t safe yet so instead of continuing to press the offense, he stopped.

“Very good,” Rihal said, not even breathing hard. “Know when you are outmatched and when to retreat.”

“Can we stop?” he asked, breathing heavily. “I need to catch my breath.”

Rihal grinned wickedly. “Where is all that enthusiasm you had just a day ago? Don’t tell me you’re chickening out because of a little more speed.”

Jerome snorted. If that was all it took to give up, he wouldn’t be here at all.

“Sit down and take a break. I need to tell you about an upcoming event.”

Jerome’s eyes lit up at that. “I hope it’s something interesting?”

He sat down directly on the dirt floor and took a deep breath to calm himself. The essence in the air poured into him and he instinctively cycled to release the tension in his muscles. That was new. He never knew he could just do that. He hadn’t tried to meditate since he exited deep meditation after Mehn Agrh’ur.

“Oh, it’s interesting. It’s an adventure.” Rihal paused for a moment, studying him. “It’s good you’re capable of doing that reflexively.”

So he knew. Or more like he sensed it. Good to know that more powerful sacred artists have more powerful senses. Which meant his senses should grow stronger the more powerful he becomes.

“Many young sacred artists have to prepare their minds and body to absorb essence — especially those who aren’t ‘named’, but even some ‘named’ find it hard to do. It can be annoying when you must get yourself into the right frame of mind before you can even cycle.”

“Really?” Jerome asked. “It felt natural to me.”

“Well, it’s a unique situation and very few can do it on command in the early Realms. I guess you’re one of the lucky ones,” Rihal said with a shrug. “Anyways. You’d be going for Pilgrims’ Keep after the new moon. It’s a gathering of Blanks just like you in the northern mountain range.”

“Ooh. Will there be magical beasts? And why is called Pilgrims’ Keep?”

Jerome had heard tales from Old Wen about the mountain range in the North. Tales of scary magical beasts that could gulp you down in less than a breath. The kids used to shiver excitedly when he exaggerated the mythical creatures to impossible proportions.

“Lots of magical beasts. Which means you’d be fighting to survive: which is the main purpose of Pilgrims’ Keep — survival. You’d receive a book about the various magical beasts you’re likely to come across when you get to the library tonight. Make sure to study it carefully. And as I said before, this is a fight for survival. Our training will take a slightly different approach from tomorrow so make sure to rest well tonight.”

Jerome nodded enthusiastically. He now had the chance to meet other sacred artists in his Realm. And to compare his strength with them. A thought came to him at that moment. “Rihal, since I only just became Blank, doesn’t that mean I’ll be entering this…Pilgrims’ Keep too early? Others must have had at least a year to grow stronger, right?”

Rihal gave him an approving smile. “That’s quick thinking, Jerome. Other Blanks will be more powerful than you are, but will that stop you from going?”

“No,” he said shaking his head. “I’d love to see what they’re like, and maybe test my strength against theirs. There will be a chance to fight against each other, right? Like a competition of sorts?”

“Well, not exactly. But you’d definitely fight with others. It always happens and you can’t avoid it. Just as you wish to test your strength against them, they as well wish to test their strengths against others too. We’ll be training with this in mind. So know that I’ll be going hard on you from tomorrow.”

Rihal hit the butt of his bo staff on the dirt floor. “Now get up and let’s continue your training.”