It had been a month since I arrived in this world.

A month ago, I received all my rations, and this morning, the delivery came as expected. Rumors must have spread, as the servants now avoided meeting my eyes whenever I ventured out of my little house on the hill.

I had adapted surprisingly well during this time, spending my days building my strength and improving other traits. Though still on the skinny side, I was no longer as deathly thin as I was a month ago.

Gregory and I had settled into a routine. He mostly kept to himself, joining me in workouts and occasionally joining me for meals. After our meal, he would leave me to my meditation.

The first time Gregory joined me on a run, he nearly passed out. Now, however, he could keep up with me, his stamina greatly improved. It seemed our efforts were not in vain.

Currently, I stood on one arm, feeling the burn as my body remained upright. My hand trembled with the effort, trying to distract myself from the strain.

"Gregory, do you have a family out there?" I asked, trying to make conversation.

Gregory merely grunted in response, which I took as a no.

"Why not? I mean, at your age, don't you feel a bit lonely?" I prodded.

"I'm fifteen," Gregory replied matter-of-factly, causing me to lose my balance in shock. What?!

His appearance suggests a maturity far beyond his 15 years; some might even mistake him for a 27-year-old. It's a testament to his remarkable genes.

I settle onto the grass, gazing at the beautiful sunset. Thoughts of my wife flood my mind, and the ache of missing her intensifies. It's been a challenge adjusting to falling asleep without the sound of her gentle snores. But that's a sentiment I'll never admit to her; I quite like my manhood where it belongs. We hadn't spent a day apart for 20 years. I let out a sigh and turn my gaze towards Gregory, only to find he's vanished without a sound. Likely off to grab dinner, I assume, as I continue to stare at the fading light of the sunset.

*

On a balcony in an unfamiliar place, a teenage girl with long, dull pink curls stares at the sunset. Sadness fills her green eyes as she gazes longingly at the fading light. With a sigh, she turns away from the balcony and makes her way back into the house. Her eyes, once filled with longing, now hide all emotion behind a mask of icy steel.

*

Nathaniel navigates through the bustling crowd, with Gregory close behind. After weaving through the mass of people, they finally reach their destination: a store.

"Welcome, dear customers. How can I help you today?" a small, graying old man behind the counter greets them, his appearance showing the wear of time.

"I'm in the market for a weapon, though I'm not quite decided yet. I'd like to browse," I reply, feeling a bit embarrassed. I know I might be a little old to be searching for a weapon at my age. According to the memories I've inherited from the previous Nathan, he was trained with the sword, but I'm not so certain about my own abilities.

The old man simply gestures for us to explore the store.

As I step into the room, filled with awe, I take in the sight of two floors adorned with weapons of all kinds. Each weapon is meticulously displayed, enticing potential owners. It's said that for some lucky individuals, their weapon calls out to them. For most, it's just a gut feeling that guides their choice. I decide to trust this instinct and begin my search.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

I try out various weapons, but nothing seems to click, not even the sword which I remember from Nathan's memories. Time seems to stretch on as I continue my search, until finally, in the corner of the room, it catches my eye.

There, gleaming silver in the dim light, is a spear. As I pick it up, a surge of energy courses through me, confirming that this is the weapon meant for me. With a sense of certainty, I know I'm a spear wielder.

As I'm about to inform the old man of my decision, I notice Gregory's entranced gaze fixed on a pair of weapons: a heavy-looking double-headed war hammer and a double-headed war axe. They appear almost impossibly weighty, but as I glance at Gregory, I understand the appeal.

Heading to the counter, I inquire about the price of my spear and Gregory's two weapons. "600 gold," the old man replies. It's a steep price, considering that 1 gold is equivalent to 50 silver. Despite the cost, I pay without hesitation, watching my funds halve in an instant.

"Gregory, let's go," I inform him. He seems startled, hesitating for a moment before making his way towards me.

"Get the axe and hammer too," I instruct as we exit the store. He stands there momentarily, looking a bit dumbfounded. Annoyance must be evident on my face because he quickly moves to retrieve the weapons before catching up to me.

We make our way towards the teleportation circle, stopping along the way for some new clothes to upgrade my wardrobe. I also pick up some mana crystals and herbs that catch my eye.

Arriving at the teleportation circle, I present identity token. Only members of the House of Shadows and VIP visitors are allowed to use this method of travel.

With a sudden flash of light, I find myself on the outskirts of the massive castle grounds. I begin the familiar trek towards my small house on the hill. Gregory, on the other hand, veers off towards the kitchen, likely on a mission to acquire dinner.

Following dinner, I instruct Gregory to gather all the basic spear user training scrolls he can find, and to also acquire some axe and hammer scrolls for himself. He seems excited at the prospect, leaving with a noticeable spring in his step.

Meanwhile, I settle outside to meditate. According to the shadow meditation technique, I'm meant to connect with the darkness, to blend with it somehow. I'm not entirely sure what that entails, but I take a deep breath and focus my mind, diving into a state of intense concentration.

To an observer, the atmosphere around Nathaniel starts to darken, enveloping him in an eerie, almost creepy manner until he becomes barely visible.

Surrounded by darkness, a sensation that would be terrifying to anyone but me, I find myself immersed in an endless, all-encompassing void. Amidst the obscurity, I notice a blob of darkness that seems somehow darker than the rest. Drawn to it as if under a trance, I reach out and hold onto it.

Suddenly, with a gasp, I open my eyes to find myself on the ground, retching up a strange black goo. I cradle my knees as a burning sensation overtakes my entire body, as if I'm being scorched from the inside out. The agony is excruciating, burning everywhere.

After what feels like an eternity of torment, I manage to slowly rise to my feet, only to realize that I'm covered in the acrid-smelling black goo. I hurry towards the house and hastily jump into the shower.

As the water washes away the remnants of the black goo, I decide to burn the clothes I was wearing.

Watching the flames dance, I notice something peculiar— the shadows of the fire seem to be dancing too. The night air feels almost palpable with an unusual energy.

Searching my mind for an answer, I recall the legend that some patriarchs can truly sense the nature of shadows, of darkness itself. This ability is said to make their techniques stronger than those of others. However, it's widely regarded as a myth since no one has been documented to possess this ability for over three centuries.

Despite the excitement bubbling within me, I remind myself to exercise caution. If news of this potential ability were to get out, who knows what consequences I might face. I mentally note to be careful and ensure this information remains confidential.

.

The morning after breakfast, I examine the assortment of scrolls that were brought. Among the many different types of spears, I select my favorites: the lance, double-headed spear, scythe, and halberd. Spending the entire morning practicing the stances, I have Gregory craft crude wooden copies for me.

As I grow weary from the thousandth stab, I observe Gregory struggling with his chosen weapons. They seem particularly heavy, even for someone of his stature.

By the end of the week, we have mastered our stances and engage in a mock fight. With my experience in multiple martial arts, honed from the constant threat of danger, I am adept at combat. However, Gregory has zero experience, so I find myself teaching him while also learning how to instruct someone with no prior knowledge.

I sigh, already feeling exhausted, but I realize the necessity of having a sparring partner who can

fight back.

In that moment, I find myself missing Angelina.