Several days on the road, a man in black trots down a path through an orchard. Lush green leaves wave in the soft wind. Drac slouches on the saddle, tired from the day's riding.

So then I hid up on top of a Chandelier. It swings to and fro but I maintain my balance. My target sits beneath me. He reads a book, unaware of a rope coming for his neck. I descend the rope slowly. Moving inch by inch around his head. Then pulled! Thrilling right?

“Riveting.”

My first kill at ten years. Started a bit late but I got a handle on it. Do you want me to tell you about the time I disguised myself as a beggar and-

“Your Copy.”

What about it?

“How did you learn to create one?”

…Another time.

Conversation between them dulls. The sky turned dark. The horse is hitched to a tree to rest after a long journey. Drac lit a fire.

“Hood. It's time. Teach me how to create a copy.”

Mm… Ok. Let's do some training. Meditate again.

Drac assumed the position. Legs folded hands rested on laps.

Try to find me.

Drac looked within himself. He is in the dark again. Hood stood in front of him.

Good. You brought yourself here. Now imagine. Imagine yourself splitting into two. You are a tree, with the branches your copies.

Drac breathed in and out. A warmth filled his body.

Look at your side.

Drac stared at himself. A bizarre perspective. He can see and feel what his copy can. The copy is him.

Now to try in the real world.

Drac is returned. His elation could not be bound. He tried what he learned in the real world.

“I am the branch.” Warmth fills his body again. A copy sits next to him, naked as a newborn.

Now the real training begins.

Block the left, to your face. Step back. Parry the body blow.

“Shut up!” Drac receives a punch to the face. “See..” he rubs his nose “you distracted me.”

Sure I did. Hook from the right.

Drac bent to dodge. An uppercut connected to his chin sending him to the floor.

“Hood!”

Heh.

Drac and his copy slump down to the floor to rest after a fifteen-minute training session. Both were huffing, however, Drac felt he still had a few more rounds.

“What… is…this supposed to improve?” said huffing.

A few things. First, Multitasking. The hardest part of using a Copy. You feel every sensation in real time. With that comes confusion. The Mind can't handle that kind of information for too long with training. My mind barely could.

“Yeah, my mind felt like it was getting spun around. Senses disorganised. Your chatter helped tho’”

Second Stamina. Fit as you are, fighting is a long game where fatigue can make you lose. A trained body will save us in almost any situation.

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Copy disappeared.

The training is to also increase how long you bring a copy into existence. The third is Fighting experience. We have not completely merged but you do have some of my strengths and skills. What you truly lack is experience and a teacher.

“Teacher, are you my handler?”

From the moment I saved you, Farmboy. So listen.

“Yes, Mister Handler sire.”

Mm. Anyways, with me as an instructor and your copy as the training partner, We will slowly whittle away mistakes till you can fight amongst the best.

“The Best.” Drac looks at his closed fist. “Alright let's do this. But talk less.”

I will when you make fewer errors.

“Fine, fine. Ok, teacher.” Drac concentrates and summons a copy. “Round two.”

Many Suns go over the horizon. Many days of riding, walking, fighting, and learning. Days of eating Bree’s pie by the fire and listening to Hood's stories. With each training session, Drac is getting faster. His movement is smoother. He attacks more with purpose and confidence. Hood instructs Drac, while his body knows everything. Years of experience meld into muscles. Night of the ninth day and the moon shines on the Two. They dance together in a flurry of steel. Attacks slide off them both. Swipes at the neck are met with stabs to the body. Kick to the knee countered with a block and blocked kick to the body. They separated, breathing their breathing harshly.

Good. Let us end it for the night.

“Yes, we’re waking early tomorrow. The town is just close ahead. Do we find a place to stay or camp out like the homeless we are?” Drac walks to the sleeping mat near the fire. “I was just getting used to ants biting my bum.”

I have to check how the town feels about foreigners. Never know. Could be a nice area.

“Or a town that strings up even people from a different town.”

Mm.

“We need to visit either way. Food needs replenishing.”

And whose fault was that?

“The pies were too good to mould away in a sack.”

True that.

Drac yawns. “Chess again?”

Yes. Still Twenty to your five wins. Need me to teach you?

“Nah, mate. I’ll figure it out.”

Drac lays on the mat and drifts to sleep to meet Hood.

----------------------------------------

Several more days passed by and Drac walked into a town. People passed by fearfully, their tired eyes took several glares. Perturbed, Drac goes to the nearby salon to get information. Drinkers stare at him as he passes through the doors. He sits on a stool at the counter and reveals his face.

“Mind telling me where to replenish my food stock. Had a long journey and sadly ran out.”

“Ah, a foreigner.” A bald bartender dries glasses with a cloth. “You can go susy’s ‘round the corner. But before you leave, would you like to get somethin’.”

“Mead if you can.”

While the bald man prepares the drink, Drac uses Auditus. The talking in the salon became clearer, and voices became more distinct. Dac picks up a conversation.

Wolfman. Alone. Not good.

Wolfmen normally run in packs, right?

Yes. And it looks like this one is starving. But why not target sheep or pets?

Is it rabid?

No. It would’ve died by now from thirst.

Interesting. I want to see it.

“Sir.”

No, Farmboy. We leave as quickly as possible.

“What is up, boy?”

“Would you know where the Wolfman was last sighted?”

“I would like to know as well” A young woman speaks to the right.

She creaked the seat chair as she sat with unrestrained force.

Dressed in a white tunic and brown breeches with long knee-high boots. Blonde hair cut to a short bob with bangs neat close to the eyes. Upturned nose. A grin that could annoy the calmest of monks. Green mischievous eyes that patronise any who take a look.

“Thinking of going after it, are ya’?”

“What’s it to you?” Drac asks while drinking his mead.

“Just tryna keep you safe, right? Bob?”

“Yes. Marina” A tall, beefy man in grey battle-scarred armour replied. The man with light brown hair looks chiselled out of a block of stone. Square head and a jaw to cut enemies. Innocent dark brown eyes.

“Thanks but I am good.” Drac sips more of his drink.

“Good? Boy thinks having a sword strapped to his back makes him a warrior.” Marina giggles, and Bob stays stoic.

Drac turns to her. “Worry more about how you will get off the chair, shorty.”

Marina laughed even louder.

“Now sir, could tell us when it was last sig-”

“HELP!” a townsperson, sweaty and dishevelled, pushed through the doors of the bar. Drac dropped his drink to see the stranger.

“IT'S HERE. THE WOLF MAN IS IN THE TOWN.”

Hood sighed.

Drac smiled. “No need to waste time then.” He got off the stool. He stepped out to see a creature wider than a small house. Fur thick and dark, light cannot seem to escape from it. It snarls saliva runs down its mouth. It howls to the sky. It pounced. Its massive claws come for Drac.

Drac unsheathed. “Just what we trained for.”

The Wolfman’s claws met a blue wall made of strange glowing energy. Drac turned on Aura sense

Murus. There is a mage.

A woman shouted from behind with an arm out. “Warrior, do you need a little help?!” Marina grinned.