1

Caldwell sat on a makeshift bench, in truth no more than a log that he had picked as his favorite, and watched as one of the soldiers trained under the watchful eye of their leader. The sword the soldier wielded was an unusual thing, granted to all who trained under its owner’s gaze; a longsword, the steel shone a milky white and appeared at first glance dangerously sharp. Yet when the sword cut against wood or steel or flesh it left no marks, though it still stung as any training sword would. A mystical piece of equipment, deserving of a man’s interest.

Odd as it was, the sword was not what interested Caldwell today.

He wasn’t certain when he started to notice. The changes had been subtle. Barely noticeable, day to day. But they added up, and at some point it had become impossible to ignore.

Alden, their dear leader, had always been a man of average appearance. In any group he was among the tallest of them, though generally falling shy of the honor as tallest, and his build was neither thin nor thick, settling somewhere in between in the sort of manner that did not draw attention. His hair was brown, the common color, though wild and unkempt and nearing shoulder length, a combination born from weeks of neglect.

That man was but a memory of Caldwell’s, now. An image seared into his mind that did not at all match what he saw now.

The long, unkempt brown hair had been cut short, though Caldwell never remembered anyone taking a blade to it, and was now as black as a moonless midnight. Accentuating it was a short, thick beard, just as black, that grew evenly and tastefully in a way the man had never accomplished before.

Then there was his face. What had once been round and as boyish as a face could be on a man in his mid-twenties had become more angular, with the jaw squared out and more defined.

Handsome, Caldwell thought, to those with such tastes. As many women preferred men with a definitively manly appearance as there were who preferred those with his own build, which was, in some regards, almost feminine.

With a roar the soldier swung the sword in a downward arc; a killing blow, if only simulated. Resetting his posture, the man paused as Alden stood from his own seat, and Caldwell was reminded of the greatest change once more.

The soldier shirked back as Alden approached, his eyes fixated on the ground. He was afraid of the man who approached him.

Caldwell would have been afraid, too. Was afraid. He had seen the man regrow a hand lost in battle, saw him fell a tree with a single blow, and now had seen him shift his appearance to one he did not recognize. There was power in him, great power, but it was unlike any power Caldwell could imagine.

Even mages are easier to understand.

Sidling up beside the soldier, Alden’s size was on full, terrifying display. Gigantic, he stood nearly twice as tall as the soldier. Combined with his wide set shoulders and rippling muscles that bulged from beneath his white shirt, their leader seemed more a creature from myth than a man.

No, Caldwell thought. Not a creature. There was something else about Alden that pulled him in, pulled them all in and kept them at his side. Something that he could not quite place his finger on.

“You are leaning too far forward,” Alden said, his voice cracking stone and booming thunder all in one. From nothingness a sword appeared in his hands. Another one of his odd powers. The sword was a greatsword a foot longer than the one the soldier used, its simple form and gray steel almost barbaric in comparison. A weapon made to kill. Yet it appeared no different than a standard sword in the giant mitts of their leader, who wielded casually with a single hand.

He positioned himself, then swung the sword; slow and easy, it fell in a clean arc. The perfect demonstration. If there were any flaws in his form, Caldwell saw none.

“Try again,” Alden said, and the soldier tried once more. This time was better. “Passable.”

Alden patted the soldier on the back with a meaty hand, then turned to Caldwell. Their eyes met, and Caldwell felt his body freeze against his will as he stared back at the giant of a man. His eyes were much the same as before, gray and dark. Yet there was a difference still. Not one of color, or shape, but of an internal aspect of the man. There was determination there.

“Your turn,” Alden said.

The movement was automatic, quick. One moment he was firmly planted on his favorite log, the next he was standing at the center of camp wielding the odd milky white sword.

2

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Interim Growth

+50 points to Strength.

+20 points to Intelligence.

+20 points to Wisdom.

+25 points to Dexterity.

+27 points to Agility

+38 points to Endurance.

Seating himself on a flat rock, Alden observed Caldwell’s movements with the sword as he called out different movements for him to perform. Most in the camp were decent fighters, though few could be considered exceptional, discounting Aerin. Gosfrid came closest, and after him was Caldwell.

Watching his movements, it was easy to see why.

Alden’s Skills operated in conjunction with one another to produce unusual benefits, one of which was to literally see the imperfections in one’s form. Rather, it allowed him to see the perfect form, from which the target strayed.

As Caldwell swung the sword a shadow of himself appeared in Alden’s view, slightly different.

“Straighten out your back,” Alden said. Caldwell swung again, this time the shadow almost gone completely. “Good. Again.”

Caldwell was a talented swordsman, but his true strength lied in his focus. When he wielded a sword it was as if nothing else in the world mattered. Just him and the weapon, moving together, fighting together, against a common foe. If there was any weakness it was his physical attributes. His speed was lackluster, and he lacked strength. His stamina was good, as he’d shown over the past week with his tireless training, but it wasn’t enough. With enough speed or strength an opponent could overwhelm him long before his stamina could shine.

It would not do.

Every day Alden trained what was left of his soldiers, even going so far as to grant them use of the Sword of Knightly Perseverance. The sword was not a masterful weapon, as he’d first expected, but a tool for training. One that granted whoever wielded it a small boost to stamina, along with a 25% boost to Skill development.

Despite that, the results had been lackluster. Growth had come easily enough to them, especially with his guidance. But, in the end, they were but twenty-seven of them, and none on the level of even a lowly knight.

Aerin was the only one with any power, but grief had taken hold of her entirely. Most of her days were spent sat alone at the edge of camp, staring into nothingness and refusing to so much as look at those who approached her. Except for Alden. For Alden she would stand and look him in the eye, then walk away. He still wasn’t sure what to make of it.

Yes you do, he thought. You failed. You were hasty, and her brother died. She blames you.

He didn’t blame her.

And yet here he was letting haste lead him once more. The siege sat merely a few weeks into the future, a siege he had but one plan for. A plan tainted by growing uncertainty.

What choice do I have? They aren’t enough.

Daily, he trained them for the purpose of using them during the siege. Daily, he found reasons such a plan did not work.

Caldwell was the perfect example. He stepped forward in a downward swing, pulled it back, simulated a parry, then made an upward cut. His form was near perfect, his body lining up with the shadow such that it could barely be seen. The skill was there. But the power was not.

“Stop.”

Caldwell stopped and looked at Alden, or rather to his chest. Few looked him in the eyes anymore. Alden stood and walked over to him, glad that act did not dizzy him as it had before. Adjusting to his new height had taken time. Now he was confident he could move as easily as before.

Producing a greatsword from his inventory, stolen from the knights of Coalben, Alden grasped it and positioned himself. He swung the blade down with all his might, stopping the tip a mere inch from the ground. A gust of wind sprung forth from his spot like a wave that washed over the entire camp.

All in the camp stopped their activities and stared with curious fear. None were more shocked than Caldwell, who stood with mouth agape, his fingers slowly losing their grip on the milky-white sword.

Alden plucked the sword from his grasp and vanished it into his inventory along with the greatsword.

“You did good,” he said. “That’ll be enough for today.”

Caldwell nodded, then hastily moved away.

“There was no need for that,” Gosfrid said. The archer looked angry, as always. Leaning against a tree with folded arms, he looked Alden in the eyes. One of the few to still do that.

“I didn’t mean it for him. I just needed to…compare.”

“Well? How’s the comparison?”

You already know the answer to that. Instead he said “About as expected.”

The archer grunted, stepped away from the tree. He looked Alden over once, then again, undecided.

“What is your plan, anyway?” Gosfrid asked.

“A siege.”

“With less than thirty men?”

Alden shook his head. “I’d thought about it, but…well, not to be harsh, but none of you would be any help.”

The archer grunted again, then went back to his tree.

“So how, then? Commander Dhatri? I don’t imagine he’d be willing, even after seeing you. Not after what happened to that viscount.”

“Hmph. Head back to the Commander with my tail between my legs and with half the men he gave me? No. The siege will happen. I’ll do it myself. I just need you lot as witnesses.”

Gosfrid grunted, turned his head, then spat. “And how exactly do you plan to do that?”

“I have my ways,” he replied.

Lifting a hand, Alden willed a ball of light to form, carrying within it the power of Creation. He touched the ball to his chest, unleashing a moment of blinding light that fell away to reveal a screen of blue.

Notice

Siphoning Creation Energy into the System.

Notice

Using Creation Energy, the Wisdom Stat has been permanently increased by 500 points.