24 - Hits and Misses

The cool morning air nipped at Valrion’s cheeks as he held the bow, trembling under its weight. Sergius stood behind him, not just watching or handing over arrows but actively guiding him. Each adjustment Sergius made was purposeful: straightening his arms, bending his knees properly, and ensuring his grip on the bow was firm yet relaxed.

Valrion took a deep breath, nocking his third arrow. His fingers wobbled as he aimed—the tension in his small frame was palpable. The release was abrupt and clumsy, sending the arrow veering far to the right of the target. It struck the ground with a thud, kicking a puff of snow.

“Don’t rush,” Sergius advised, handing Valrion another arrow. “Breathe in, breathe out. Take your time.”

Valrion accepted what would be his fourth attempt. He secured the nock on the string and drew the bow again, recalling Sergius’ instructions: steady arms and legs, calm grip, and controlled breath. The bowstring hummed as he released it, but the arrow drifted off course, landing just short of the target.

“Better than before,” Sergius said. Stepping closer, he adjusted Valrion’s stance—straightening his back and angling his arms a tad. “Relax more and let the bow do the work.”

I know, but this mortal body is different, Valrion thought to himself. His brow furrowed with concentration. He nocked his fifth arrow with renewed focus. Exhaling steadily, he let the string slip from his fingers. The arrow flew through the air and hit the edge of the target, clinging to the outer rim.

“Good job!” his mother exclaimed, clapping her hands together. Her enthusiasm reached her eyes, eliciting a sense of pride within Valrion.

“Yes, good job,” Sergius repeated, giving him another arrow. “Loosen your shoulders. Don’t be too tense there.”

Valrion’s lips twitched into a smile as he fixed his posture. He hadn’t expected Sergius to be this patient. From what he had observed, Sergius seemed like the type to speak bluntly if things weren’t going well, even to a child. Yet, despite Valrion’s mediocre attempts, Sergius remained calm and encouraging.

It might have been too soon to judge if this treatment would last, but something about Sergius’s behavior felt genuine. His words didn’t seem like a mere act of tolerance but a natural extension of who he truly was. Just thinking about that possibility gave Valrion an extra boost of confidence to keep trying.

“Ready for another?” Sergius asked, pulling Valrion back from his thoughts. Valrion nodded, hands tightening around the bow.

The next series of shots were a mix of hits and misses. Valrion’s sixth arrow soared too high, vanishing into the thicket beyond the target. The seventh glanced off the side with a dull clink, while the eighth was no different, burying itself in the ground just a few feet away. His ninth shot came closer to the center, and the tenth, almost like the fifth, grazed the target’s edge.

“Not bad, not bad.” Sergius gave him an approving nod.

Valrion grinned despite the growing ache in his arms and shoulders. He was starting to get a feel for handling the bow with his shorter limbs, though it was clear that mastering consistency would take many more sessions.

When all the arrows were spent, Sergius went to retrieve them. He plucked each one from its resting place—lodged in the dirt, stuck in the target, or scattered nearby—and gathered them into his hand. As Sergius returned, Valrion took the opportunity to check the Handbook.

[Level: 5]

[EXP: 10/145]

[Health: 297/297]

[Mana: 31/31]

“Can I use my fire?” Valrion asked, even before Sergius arrived at his side.

“Huh?” Sergius frowned before shaking his head. “No.”

“Why?”

“Hit the target first, then you can.”

Valrion sighed, scanning the yard for something random to burn. A pile of dry leaves by the hedges near his mother caught his eye, tempting him, but he knew better. If he got scolded and suspected of being a naughty kid, he might lose the chance of moving to the bedroom or even practice.

“Focus,” Sergius urged, offering him another arrow.

With a huff, Valrion grabbed the arrow and redirected his focus to the bow. He drew the string again, his tiny arms growing steadier. The arrow flew straighter, striking close to the perimeter of the target.

“Your form is better. Keep it up, yes?” Sergius said.

For the next ten minutes, Valrion and Sergius worked in coordination, forming a steady pattern. Valrion focused on his task, nocking each arrow and drawing the bowstring as steadily as his underdeveloped body allowed. The arrows rarely found their mark—many strayed off course, planting themselves in the dirt or sailing past the target entirely. Each attempt carried the same focus and intent, as if this time might finally be the one. All the while, his mother’s loud support never stopped.

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Sergius always quickly collected the arrows whenever they ran out. Whether hidden among the snow, tangled in the bushes, or barely clinging to the edge of the target, he retrieved them without a word of complaint. When he returned, he passed one back to Valrion, and the cycle repeated.

Their activity came to a halt when Octavia and Fina wandered over from the backyard, their laughter cutting through the quiet focus of the practice.

“Look at him go!” Octavia teased, clapping her hands in exaggerated applause. “Our little archer!”

Valrion’s face flushed as he lowered the bow. Sergius, however, didn’t look amused. He glared at the two, and it wasn’t him to look remotely angry like now.

“Go back to your chores. You’re distracting him,” Sergius said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Octavia pulled a dramatic pout, clearly unfazed by the reprimand. “What’s your problem? We’re just cheering him on.”

Fina’s expression was gentler than the other workers when she looked at Valrion. “Will you show us at least one shot? I promise we’ll leave afterward.”

Valrion glanced at Sergius for approval even though he didn’t need it. Once Sergius gave a curt nod, Valrion raised the bow, carefully settling into his stance. He drew the string back, his focus locking onto the target. Squinting his eyes, he released the arrow.

It arced through the air and stabbed into the ground right in front of the target. Valrion’s shoulders slumped, disappointment weighing on him. He had hoped the maids’ presence might motivate him more, but reality seemed to enjoy mocking his efforts.

“Aww, don’t mind it! In a week, you’ll be hitting every bird flying by!” Octavia said.

“Okay, enough,” Sergius cut in. “Go prepare lunch.”

Octavia stuck out her tongue at him before linking arms with Fina and tugging her away. “Let’s go.”

“Good luck, Valrion. Hunt us some food one day,” Fina added before she and Octavia turned around and walked away, their chatter fading into the distance.

The practice continued, but Valrion’s arms grew weary after thirty more minutes. His fingers began to throb, each pull of the bowstring leaving them tender and numb. When his last arrow struck the ground, Sergius didn’t hand him another. Instead, he held out his hand, and Valrion blinked at him, confused.

“It’s almost been an hour, and it’s getting cold,” Sergius said with a smirk. “I was just joking earlier. We’re not practicing for four hours. One hour is more than enough. You did well. Good job.”

Valrion didn’t know why he had trusted Sergius when he claimed they would practice for four hours. In theory, it wasn’t implausible. It sounded entirely reasonable to him that someone could train nonstop for that long, but perhaps it was the novelty of doing something—anything—outside after so much idle time in the house that made him overlook how exhausting even one hour was for someone his age.

As Sergius slung the bow over his shoulder and went to collect the used arrows, Valrion’s mother approached him. She knelt down and cupped his face with her hands. Her touch was cold, the chill biting against his skin. Instinctively, he placed his own hands above hers.

“You should wear gloves,” he mumbled.

Her smile was lovely, as it had always been. “All right. I’ll keep that in mind. You did wonderfully, my love. I’m proud of you.”

Valrion managed a small smile in return as she brushed her thumb over his cheeks. Right after, she carefully removed his gloves and rose to her feet, taking his hand in hers. Sergius joined them soon, walking back with the arrows secured and the bow slung over his shoulder. Valrion’s mother handed the gloves to Sergius before they all headed back toward the house together.

Sergius opened the side door for them, stepping aside to let them in first. Valrion and his mother made their way to the kitchen, where they both collapsed onto the rug in front of the active hearth, soaking in its warmth. Sergius proceeded to the dining room, placing the weapon and gloves in their previous hiding spot.

The day had been exhausting, but for Valrion, it was as fulfilling as the quiet joy of his birthday evenings.

Alas, he sat up as the thought of his mana crossed his mind. Turning to face the hearth, he extended his hand and summoned small balls of fire. Each flame merged seamlessly with the existing blaze, their intensity carefully controlled to avoid alarming his mother. It didn’t seem to matter since the suddenness of his actions had confused her, proven by how her jaw dropped.

[Level: 5]

[EXP: 10/145]

[Health: 294/297]

[Mana: 0/31]

“What—what happened?” his mother asked as she pushed herself up, using her arms for support. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay, Mama.” Valrion laughed innocently. There was no way he could explain that he had done it on purpose to drain his mana so it wouldn’t go to waste and could regenerate for tomorrow. His health had taken a small hit, likely from the archery practice, but it was fine. What was important was that his mana was now zero, just as he had wished for an hour ago.

“Crazy baby. Aren’t you tired?” Sergius said, standing near the doorway to the dining room.

Valrion glanced at him, and Fina’s earlier words about him hunting some food came to mind. He hadn’t left the house since his reincarnation. He knew his family was being cautious and protective of his ability, but after three whole years, the confinement became too much. He hadn’t seen the local market or even visited a neighbor’s home. The fact bothered him now more than ever.

As Sergius was about to leave the kitchen, Valrion called out, “Sergius.”

Sergius stopped mid-step and turned to face him. “Yes?”

“I want to hunt with you,” Valrion said without hesitation. What was there to lose by asking? If anything, it would only showcase his resolution and cleverness.

Sergius averted his eyes to Valrion’s mother, silently gauging her reaction before looking back at the boy. “That’s up to your mother. Your father will definitely say no, though.”

Without missing a beat, Valrion turned to his mother, his expression instantly transforming into one of pleading. He even forced his lower lip to tremble, though he wasn’t sure how convincing he looked.

His mother’s smile didn’t waver. Reaching out, she pinched his nose gently. “I’ll think about it.”

Valrion grabbed her arm, giving it a light shake. “I’m ready, Mama.”

“I said I’ll think about it, okay?” Her smile deepened, but there was a subtle harshness in her voice that made it clear the discussion was over. Recognizing the hint, Valrion reluctantly let go of her arm and pulled his hands back.