“What do you mean you're gone for the day?” Harald asked incredulously after Lock had stepped into the clearing, taken one look at Harald, and declared that he was leaving.

“Look at yourself, you're in no state to train.” Lock snorted out, and indeed Harald looked like he needed a break, yesterday. The science was concurring on this, muscles needed a day to recuperate, however, there was something driving Harald, and thus he was likely to disregard his order.

Something that Lock couldn't empathise with, considering that one did not need to move the body to train. Meditation and the sharpening of one's killing intent were just as, if not more useful progressions. However, while it was not something he could empathise with, it was something he could understand. Which is why the rest period that Harald would be undergoing, was by no means voluntary.

By the badly hidden smirk that had just sneaked onto the boy's face, he'd just come to the conclusion that if Lock wasn't here, then he couldn't stop him from training.

A bit slow, that boy. Hadn't even considered that if he himself could see that without Lock there was nobody who could stop him from training, Lock himself who was, by the way, very humble, and infinitely smarter than Harald, could see so as well. Which was why Lock unceremoniously stepped forward and kicked his pupil backwards, into the waiting arms of Lemmings. Who he'd managed to teach some stealth tactics during their time together.

“Don't let him move, also don't talk to him or give him any stimuli with which he could distract himself.” Lock commanded, the orders being meant more for Harald, rather than the golem.

Harald opened his mouth, no words coming out. He struggled a bit against the hold Lemming's had on him, but got nowhere.

“What about going to the bathroom?” He finally whispered out.

Lock mused that the golem truly wouldn’t care whose dick he saw, but for Harald, put on a mocking smirk.

“I wouldn't worry too much about it, Lemmings is very discreet. The secret on how you hold your dick while you piss will be safe with him.” He said with a laugh, as he turned to the lake and undressed himself down to his pants.

He plunged into the cool water, and started swimming.

It would take him about an hour to get to the other side, where there was civilization, but he couldn't rely on fishing uncle for absolutely everything.

-/-

It was one hour and four minutes later that Lock surfaced from the water by the dock of Trydan, to the astounded and curious looks of its citizens.

Pulling himself up on the wooden dock he made sure to keep up a facade of complete confidence as he passed by the people looking at him. He even went as far as to winking at a pair of younger women who he caught throwing admiring looks at his physique.

They blushed and looked away.

Ah, to be young again. Lock mused as he made his way out of the hustle and bustle of the docks and towards his destination.

The church of Kruto, situated on the outskirts of Trydan. It was just as rustic as he remembered it. Why it even had the same person leaning against the wall next to the entrance. A white clad boy with a pointy hat, wielding a staff.

The probable brother of the blind girl, set to babysit her.

There was one key difference to last time however. This time the boy decided to obstruct his passage.

With a frown on his fair face he situated himself in front of the door, crossing his arms and looking Lock up and down.

Lock was aware of how he looked, almost naked, pants clinging suggestively to his lower body. But he didn't care, did not even slow his pace, simply continued walking towards the entrance. As if the person blocking it did not even exist.

The boy grew visibly furious. “Halt, I can't allow you inside dressed like that, there are children present.”

Lock finally halted at the appeal to reason. Had he been confronted with violence he would have responded in kind. But a slightly arrogant declaration of 'think of the children', a beating did not deserve. There was also the issue of potentially making a powerful enemy. The making of which would be best saved for a few years in the future.

“Are you so cruel so as to deny a vagabond, possessing only one pair of pants as his clothing, entry into the holy place where he wishes to partake in the holy rites.” He instead said, semi-seriously, drawing a flicker of a smile from the white-clad boy. A colour that clashed horribly with his blue, almost purple hair.

“A holy place currently being used as such by a lost child, undeserving of the mental scarring your state of undress would cause.” He replied, causing Lock to chuckle.

“A fine riposte, however, I was under the impression that the child was blind.”

The Wizard frowned. “How do you know that?” He asked, harshly.

Lock simply shook his head, “The world whispers of many things when one bothers to listen. It sings, sometimes.”

The Wizard uncrossed his arms and gripped his staf.

Lock sighed. “The youth of today, no patience. If you must know how I know, then I will illuminate you upon the simple deduction that I've made. You are the same person standing guard in front of the church, whilst I found a blind girl inside, as last time. Blind girls need protectors, therefore I assumed you were he.”

“You're the one who talked to her that one time?” The wizard said, surprise apparent, instead of saying something in the realms of how Lock could have provided that information sooner.

“I would not know, I talked to one blind girl, but it might be possible that you are thinking of another.”

“Are you by any chance the one who partook in the rite of pain, hugging the statue?” The wizard queried further.

“Indeed, I imagine I must be the one you mean then, not many people do so.” Lock said.

A glum look passed over the Wizard's face. “Well, I can't rightfully bar you entrance knowing that, considering that your actions inspired her to become one of those few. Which cascaded in a series of events that lead to her gaining the ability to see. You shall pass.” He said with a slow shake of his head as he stepped aside.

“Let us hope that I shall not unduly scar the newly regained eyes of the girl who was once blind.” Lock joked as he pushed open the door, sent a smile the Wizard's way, and closed it behind him.

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Only to immediately run forwards towards a small hunched together figure with blood running down one wrist and a knife in the other.

He ripped the carving knife out of the figures hands and pulled the other upwards, so he could look at the wound, through the struggles of the child in his arms.

The hand, including the fingers, was lacerated with countless small cuts, leading up all the way to the wrist. The arm was haphazardly bandaged.

He looked into the still unfocused eyes of the blind girl, as she railed against his grip.

“Let me go!” She shouted in a hoarse voice, and he did once he saw what she'd been working on.

A cube of wood, whose edges were being sloppily shaved away. It didn't take a genius detective to determine that she'd been attempting to carve something round, and it took even less brain power to realize that what she was carving was an eye. A representation of the suffering she'd undergone.

“What have you done you foolish child.” He sighed out, and gently let himself fall to the floor, cradling the arm of the quickly calming individual in his lap.

“It's you.” She said. Sounding almost, happy, a complete turn-around from her previous, kind of justified cry for him to release her.

“Yes.” Lock sighed. “It's me.”

The girl quieted, seemingly unsure of what to say next. A conflicted expression warred on her face, and the interesting thought that blind people did not know how expressive facial expressions could be came to Lock's mind.

Instead of saying something the girl eventually decided to lean forwards and attempt to hug him. Her aim was impressive, if a bit off, as she only managed to envelop his left arm. She leaned onto him.

Eventually the expected question came.

“Why are you naked?”

“It's no shirt Sunday.”

“Today's Thursday.”

“Silly me.”

“What were you doing with that knife when I entered? You hurt yourself.” Lock eventually asked.

“I was trying to carve my trial, but it wasn't working. It should have worked, Kruto gives a buff to carving, but it didn't. He must hate me.”

“Why would he hate you?”

“Because I hugged him.” She whispered.

“Well that doesn't make sense, I hugged him as well, and I've felt no animosity from his whatsoever.” Lock replied, although to be fair, he hadn't had much time to practice his religion in the last month.

“But I'm not you. I'm not wise, I'm not strong, I'm not enduring. I'm just a stupid little blind girl.” The girl forced out, insulted that Lock was so stupid she had to bring herself to say the obvious.

Lock wondered how he'd gotten into this situation, as his right arm unconsciously rose up to stroke the girls hair. It was soft.

“I heard that you weren't so blind anymore from your brother outside. What gives?” He asked.

“It's a useless sight. Because I didn't manage to hug Kruto long enough. I bet whatever you got was awesomer.” She said, and now that Lock was actually paying attention, he noted that she spoke in the tone of voice stereotypical of children who were about to start crying.

“It has to be better than before though, right?”

“Like one copper is better than none.” She muttered and Lock laughed.

The girl started crying.

“A man who has nothing has no conception of how little he has. But a man who has but a coin will severely notice how poor he is.” He said. “You should not see this as something to be sad over, but as a first step towards achieving whatever you want to achieve. Now that you have a comparison.”

“All problems can be solved by hard work the way you say it.” She said, while hiccuping.

“All problems can be solved by anything really, it’s just that solving them yourself is the only reliable method. All others rely on wallowing in your suffering and waiting for someone else to come by and solve them for you.”

“Give me the knife.” The girl said, resolve tingeing her voice.

“No.” Lock replied, as he flicked her on the forehead. She seemed taken aback by this, hands flying upwards to clutch at the wounded spot.

“The way you've been hurting yourself... Kruto doesn't approve of what you're trying to carve, and is thus not granting you the skill.” He explained, as he stood up, picking up.

“But why doesn't he approve?” The girl asked, sounding like she was about to cry again.

“You should probably ask a priest.” Lock threw back.

“I want to hear it from you.”

“If you insist. Give me a minute.” He said as he sat down, holding the bloodied knife and the failed carving in his hands. What was causing the girl to fail? Kruto's disapproval. Carving was a method of overcoming hardship. Did he not consider an eye a fair representation of that hardship? Or did the problem go deeper. Did Kruto not approve of the girl's way of trying to overcome her hardship, and thus deemed her unworthy of attempting the ritual that was partly also meant to symbolise the start, or progression of one's journey to overcome a hardship?

He would have scratched his head were he currently not holding a knife.

An idea suddenly struck him. He quickly set himself an arbitrary failing. His laziness over getting his haircut, and determined that the best symbol of trying to overcome this hardship, something he had taken step towards overcoming (memory was important), would be a banana.

Starting to carve he quickly noted that while he wasn't receiving help with the process he wasn't being explicitly obstructed either.

Had the girl simply been failing because she was, in her own words, someone who only owned one copper in the world of the seeing? Not it couldn't be. Blind people were capable of carving, and if they made mistakes, they definitely would not make as many as the girl had made.

Another experiment. Lock set the hardship in his head to his habit of whoring around. Something that, while he saw it as a weakness rather than a strength, he'd not taken a single step towards bettering. He set the knife to the carving, and started to carve, an image of a scantily clad female set firmly in his mind.

The knife slipped and cut into his hand. He tried again, the process repeated itself.

“How did you gain the skill.” Lock asked after several more attempts on the life of his left palm had been committed.

“I joined the church, and hugged Kruto. The skill popped up. It's one my family techniques, so it's a bit of a waste, I could have learned it from them as well. If they were willing to teach me.” Said the girl.

“Is it an upgradeable Skill, can you level it up?” He asked, at which the girl hesitantly nodded, something she must have learned recently.

“How would you describe your attempts? Enthusiastic, lethargic.” Lock queried further.

The girl cringed.

“The latter then. Well, I think I've found your issue.” Lock said musingly.

“Really, what is it?”

“Kruto does not find your attempts at overcoming your blindness to be satisfactory.” He stated confidently.

“But why, I hugged him, it hurt so much.” The girl pleaded.

“Because you took the easy way out. The pain you feel when hugging Kruto is short, and only requires a short burst of courage.” Lock said.

“But it hurt so much.” The girl whispered, tears coming to her eyes.

“It was perhaps pain, but it was not suffering. True suffering is an extensive process to be undergone everyday so as to really drive the lesson home. Like trudging along a road never taken before, day after day, everybody around you perhaps not mocking, but disbelieving in your success.” Lock said seriously, paraphrasing from his own experience. He sighed however once he noted that that may be the issue. Experiences weren't transferable.

“Suffering to success, undergoing cruelty, overcoming hardship. Kruto wants you to do those things, not as a transaction, which you completed by hugging him, but as a life philosophy. I'm not really articulating this well, you should really talk to a priest.” Lock eventually petered out, starting to doubt that his own, highly subjective interpretation of the religion was going to be of any help.

“What would you have me do.” The girl asked, seemingly intent on her refusal to seek out someone with an actual theological background.

“Determine what would be good for you, no matter how harsh, and undergo those things day after day, having faith that they will be rewarded.” Lock tiredly said. He thought about mentioning the fact that he wasn't as much holding faith in Kruto, as he was in his own capacity to achieve whatever he set his mind too, but decided against it. It was contradictory when considering the thing from a religious perspective. But the experience Lock had made was that Kruto really did not care. Perhaps being a god who encouraged his followers to inflict pain unto themselves cured him of the expectation that he was to be worshipped and revered.

The advice to hold faith in herself would be useless to the girl though, as she had no reason whatsoever to do so.

The girl seemed to contemplate his words, before piercing him with a look that chilled him to the bone. Her empty eyes met his and held the gaze for an uncomfortably long time.

“You think I can gain true sight, to no longer be a pauper if I work at it?” She asked.

Lock nodded, before remembering that she was unlikely to notice. “Yes.”

She stood up and turned to leave.

“Alright, I'll try it your way. I'll believe in the you that believes in me. Goodbye.” She left.

Lock heard her protector exclaim some loud words as she exited the church, likely at the state of her arm, before the door closed. Taking all sound with it.

Turning around to suspiciously stare at the statue of the god nailed to a cross, he harrumphed. While the reasons he challenged himself was due to believing in his competency. It did not mean that he held no faith in Kruto. Magic existed after all, so why wouldn't gods.

“Mighty coincidence that. Meeting her here, just in time to help her. Well, at least that's what I hoped I did.” Lock grumbled.

The statue remained silent.

“I hope I'm getting paid for this somehow.” He muttered as he laid down on his back, spreading out his limbs and taking a deep breath.

That conversation had been hard. He wasn't suited for this sort of thing. He was an individualist first and foremost, likely because he'd never before had the luxury to concern himself with other people.

Immortality was a harsh and demanding path to walk on. It was however also a path he'd left behind him.

“An endless amount of time solves all issues, huh. What a load of crap.”