CHAPTER 4: BALANCE AND PRECISION
Months had passed since Alexander first woke up in the small farmhouse, broken, battered, and barely able to move. Time, hard work, and the quiet life on the farm had begun to heal more than just his body—it was also slowly piecing together his fractured mind. His body had gradually mended itself through the long weeks of physical labor, and though the wounds no longer ached as they once did, he often caught himself unconsciously rubbing at the scars, a habit that reminded him of the harrowing nightmare that still lingered at the edges of his memory.
The morning sun filtered through the trees, casting a golden light over the farm as Alexander emerged from the small shed where he’d been repairing a broken hoe. His hands, once weak and clumsy from his injuries, now moved with purpose and precision. It had been months of slow recovery, but finally, his body felt... whole again. There was no longer that constant twinge of pain in his side when he moved, no sharp pang in his ribs when he stretched. He was healed.
A notification flashed in his vision as he straightened, wiping the sweat from his brow:
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Regeneration Skill: 100% - Basic Level Achieved
You've reached the basic level in regeneration. Your body now heals faster from injuries, allowing you to recover from minor wounds in hours instead of days. Passive increases to Constitution and Vitality have been applied.
+2 Constitution
+2 Vitality
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Alexander felt a strange rush of satisfaction at the notification, though it was almost overshadowed by the sense of relief. He could move without fear of reopening old wounds or triggering sharp pain with the slightest misstep. The farm had been his proving ground, the quiet tasks that tested his endurance, strength, and patience pushing him further toward recovery than he could have imagined. He looked over his word checking the end of the tool's metal head. He could see where he had made a new handle for it from a stick that he had carved. The handle felt light but sturdy. He also used a whetstone to sharpen the bladed end. A voice that he knew all too well snapped him out of his moment of admiration for the repairs.
“Alexander!” Amara’s voice rang out from across the yard, breaking his train of thought. He turned to see her running toward him, her eyes bright with excitement. She skidded to a stop in front of him, breathing hard but grinning. “Mom’s asking for you. She needs help with the chickens.”
“The chickens?” Alexander raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, we’re cooking some tonight,” Amara said with a smirk. “But first, we have to catch them. And trust me, they don’t make it easy.”
He couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking his head. “I’ll be right there.”
As Amara ran back toward the chicken coop, Alexander followed at a more measured pace, feeling the strength in his legs as they carried him with ease. The months of recovery had not only healed his wounds, but they had also rebuilt his body—each day of hauling water, chopping wood, and working the fields had slowly but surely restored his muscles, his coordination, and his sense of balance. His steps were sure now, steady.
When he arrived at the chicken coop, Lyra was waiting, arms crossed, her expression half-amused, half-serious.
“We need at least two chickens,” she said. “You think you can manage that?”
Alexander looked at the flock of chickens pecking around the yard. They looked harmless enough—until one of them darted off with startling speed. He swallowed loudly realizing that he may have bitten off more than he could chew. He frowned. “I can try.”
“Try not to hurt yourself,” Lyra added, a faint smirk on her lips. "I'll be waiting at the main house."
Amara snorted. “Yeah, wouldn’t want you to sprain an ankle chasing a chicken.”
Alexander shot her a playful glare. “I’ll catch the chickens. You two can handle the cooking.”
"We will see about that", she said sarcastically.
With that, he moved toward the coop, crouching low as he tried to gauge which of the birds looked slowest. But as soon as he made his move, they scattered like leaves in the wind, clucking and flapping their wings. He lunged, arms outstretched, but the chickens were faster—his fingers brushed feathers, but the bird slipped away.
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Dash Skill Acquired: 5%
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Alexander froze mid-chase as the notification blinked into view. Dash? He blinked, realization dawning on him. His body had moved faster than he expected, reacting almost instinctively to the chickens' sudden bursts of speed. He smirked, a sense of accomplishment washing over him. Maybe he was getting the hang of this after all.
“I got this,” he muttered to himself, resetting his stance. This time, he anticipated their movements, using his newly acquired dash ability to surge forward, closing the gap before the chickens could react. His fingers finally wrapped around one of the birds, and it squawked loudly in protest as he hoisted it up.
Amara let out an exaggerated cheer from behind. “He caught one! He really actually caught one! I can't believe it!”
“Not bad. One down, one to go,” Lyra said, though her smirk had softened into a more approving expression.
"I told you I got this", he said with excitement in his voice.
It took a few more attempts and a great deal of running, but eventually, Alexander managed to catch the second chicken. By the time he walked back toward Lyra and Amara, chickens in hand, he was breathing hard but smiling.
“Not bad for a guy who was on his deathbed a few months ago,” Lyra said, giving him a nod.
“You’re getting faster,” Amara added. “Maybe you should be chasing chickens for a living.”
“Let’s hope not,” Alexander replied with a grin, setting the chickens down in the crate.
As the day wore on, Alexander was given new tasks. Lyra had set her sights on preserving some fruit to sell in town, and part of the job involved collecting the ripest fruit from the trees that lined the edge of the property. It was more than just a casual plucking, though. Some of the best fruit grew high in the trees, forcing Alexander to climb if he wanted to reach them.
He hadn’t climbed a tree since before he’d lost his memories, and his muscles protested as he reached for the first branch. The bark was rough under his hands, his grip slipping slightly as he tried to find secure footing.
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Climbing Skill Acquired: 10%
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A quick burst of progress flashed in his vision, and Alexander focused on the task at hand. He pulled himself up higher, his legs finding their rhythm as he clambered through the branches. The higher he went, the more his muscles stretched and strained, but the skill notifications kept coming.
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Climbing Skill: 25%
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By the time he had reached the top and plucked the ripest fruit, his arms burned with the effort, but his body had adjusted. He descended with ease, tossing the fruit into the basket below.
“You’re like a squirrel up there,” Amara teased from below, shading her eyes with her hand as she watched him climb.
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“You can join me next time,” Alexander replied, tossing her a small apple.
“Hard pass,” she said with a grin. “But good work.”
As the day went on, the tasks became more varied. Repairing fences, moving tools, even sharpening blades—each task pushed Alexander’s coordination and balance further, forcing him to refine his movements and build precision.
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Woodworking Skill Acquired: 5%
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At one point, while repairing a section of the fence that had been broken by a storm, Alexander noticed how natural the work had begun to feel. His hands moved with purpose, the nails driving into the wood with a steady rhythm, the repairs coming together more quickly than he anticipated. The skills were building upon one another, merging with the muscle memory that seemed to flow through him more easily now.
Lyra, who had been observing him from a distance, walked over as he finished up.
“You’ve been doing a lot more than just recovering,” she said, her voice thoughtful.
“I figure I owe you both for saving my life. I definitely wouldn't be here right now if it weren't for you and Amara,” Alexander replied, standing and wiping the dirt from his hands. “I’m just glad I can help.”
“First you have thanked me long enough for saving you. Let this be the last we hear of that. Besides, you’re more than helping,” she said, meeting his eyes with a rare softness. “You’re becoming indispensable around here. I don't know what we would do without all of your help.”
The words hit him in a way that surprised him. Lyra had always been reserved, but there was an underlying warmth now—a trust that hadn’t been there before. He nodded, feeling a strange sense of gratitude for the life they had given him, even in the midst of his confusion about who he was and where he came from.
“I’m glad I can be useful,” he said quietly, glancing toward Amara, who was busy tending to the pigs.
“You’re more than useful, Alexander,” Lyra said. “You’ve become part of this farm. Part of our lives.”
The weight of her words settled over him, and for the first time since he had woken up in that bed months ago, he felt a sense of belonging. Maybe he didn’t know everything about his past, but here, on this small farm, he had found a place where he was needed. A place where he could rebuild himself.
As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the fields, Alexander felt the familiar sensation of progress, of growth.
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Dash Skill: 35%
Climbing Skill: 40%
Woodworking Skill: 15%
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The notifications felt like a quiet reassurance that he was on the right path, a reminder that even in the simple tasks of farm life, he was becoming something more.
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Later that night, as the three of them sat around the dinner table, laughing and sharing stories of the day’s work, Alexander looked at Amara and Lyra, and for the first time, he allowed himself to feel the comfort of their company. The farm had become more than just a place of recovery—it had become a home.As the laughter died down at the dinner table, a comfortable silence settled between them. Alexander leaned back in his chair, feeling the weight of the day’s work in his muscles, but it was a good kind of exhaustion. His body had grown stronger, his movements more precise, and his coordination sharpened through months of relentless farm chores.
Amara nudged him with her elbow. “So, what’s your secret? How’d you get so good at catching those chickens today?”
Alexander smirked, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess I’ve had some practice chasing things before. Don’t remember much about it, though.”
Lyra shot him a glance, her sharp eyes softening slightly. “You remember anything else? It’s been a few months now. You’re recovering faster than anyone I’ve ever seen.”
Alexander hesitated, his mind flashing back to his dream from the other night—fragments of that nightmare, that battle, the name he thought might be his. He took a slow breath, staring at his empty plate.
“I’ve had flashes,” he admitted quietly. “Mostly in dreams. There’s fighting. I think... I was in some kind of battle, or maybe a lot of them. I remember pain. Desperation.” He rubbed his chest as if recalling the weight of a wound. “But I don’t know who I was fighting or why.”
Amara, usually full of lighthearted jabs and teasing, sat still, her curiosity evident. “So the name your heard, Alexander. Do you think that is your name?”
Alexander nodded slowly, the memory of that name—his name—echoing in his mind. “Yeah. I think it’s Alexander. It feels right when I say it. Like... it belongs to me.”
“Alexander,” Lyra repeated, testing the name with a small nod. “It suits you. I tried to give you a bit of time to figure it out but I think. you have finally put one piece of the puzzle that is your life together. From ”
He smiled faintly. “I think so too.”
There was a lingering silence as the conversation weighed a little heavier, but Amara, never one to let things get too somber for too long, leaned in with a conspiratorial grin. “Well, Alexander, now that you’ve got your name back, don’t think we’re going to let you off the hook. Tomorrow’s another full day of work.”
“Oh, joy,” he said, smirking. “More chickens to chase?”
“Worse.” Amara laughed. “Tomorrow, you’re helping me catch pigs.”
Alexander groaned exaggeratedly. “Pigs? I thought I graduated from chasing animals.”
Lyra chuckled softly at their exchange. “No rest for the wicked, as they say.”
That night, as Alexander lay in his small room, the moonlight streaming through the window, he thought about how far he’d come since waking up in the farmhouse. The pain and confusion had given way to a sense of purpose, a routine that brought with it both challenges and rewards. He still didn’t know who he had been before, but the person he was becoming here felt more tangible, more real.
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The next day, true to Amara’s promise, Alexander found himself in the pigpen, staring down at the creatures with a mix of apprehension and resignation. Amara was already waist-deep in mud, trying to corral a particularly stubborn pig, laughing as it squealed and darted away.
“Come on, Alexander!” she called out. “Don’t just stand there looking pretty!”
He sighed, rolling his eyes before stepping into the pen. The moment his boots sank into the mud, he knew this was going to be a battle just as fierce as any he’d faced in his nightmares—though with significantly more mud involved.
The pigs, of course, were not cooperative. Every time Alexander thought he had a grip on one, it slipped away, sending him face-first into the muck. Amara, of course, found this endlessly entertaining.
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Tame Beast Skill Acquired: 20%
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Despite the chaos of the pigpen, there was a strange sense of satisfaction as his skill in wrangling the animals grew. The notifications had become second nature to him now, a quiet confirmation of progress.
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As the morning passed and the pigs were finally corralled, Alexander found himself covered in mud from head to toe. He wiped a hand across his brow, glancing at Amara, who was in a similar state.
“Think I’ll take chasing chickens over pigs any day,” he said with a tired grin.
“You did good for a first-timer,” Amara replied, still laughing as she wiped the mud from her face. “But don’t think you’re off the hook yet. Mom’s got more chores lined up for you.”
The rest of the day brought more varied tasks. After washing off the mud from the morning’s chaos, Alexander set to work helping Lyra with repairs around the farm. A section of the barn’s roof needed patching, and there was always something that needed fixing. This time, it was a broken fence that ran along the edge of the farm, likely damaged by a recent storm.
As he worked, hammering nails into place, Alexander felt the quiet satisfaction of his growing skills. His hands moved with more precision, each swing of the hammer deliberate, each movement a little more confident than the last.
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Woodworking Skill: 40%
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It was slow, steady progress, but the notifications continued to appear, marking his advancement. And with each new skill he gained or leveled up, his body felt stronger, more capable.
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By mid-afternoon, Alexander found himself assigned a new task—climbing trees to gather fruit. This was part of Lyra’s plan to make preserves for the upcoming market, and some of the juiciest apples and pears were growing high in the trees that bordered the farm. The task tested his agility and balance in a way that surprised him.
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Climbing Skill: 60%
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He scaled the trees with increasing ease, each branch a little less daunting than the last. His body moved with newfound grace, finding the rhythm as he swung from branch to branch, plucking the ripe fruit and tossing it down to Amara, who waited below with a basket.
“You’re getting pretty good at this,” Amara called up to him, shielding her eyes from the sun as she watched him climb.
“Thanks,” Alexander replied, the exertion leaving him breathless but satisfied. “Years of tree climbing experience... probably.”
Amara laughed, catching another apple. “If that’s true, then you must’ve been a squirrel in your past life.”
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Agility: +2
Dexterity: +2
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The notifications were becoming a welcome sight, marking his steady progress. Climbing trees, chasing chickens, fixing fences—it all added up. It wasn’t just farm work. It was training, rebuilding him into something stronger, more agile, more precise.
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Later in the evening, after all the day’s tasks were done, Alexander sat on the porch of the farmhouse, watching the sun set behind the hills. Lyra joined him, sitting quietly for a moment before speaking.
“You’ve come a long way since we found you,” she said softly, her voice carrying a rare warmth.
Alexander nodded, glancing down at his hands. “I feel it. My body’s stronger. I’m... stronger.”
Lyra looked at him thoughtfully. “Strength isn’t just about muscles. You’ve been good for this place, for Amara. And for me.”
Alexander felt a swell of gratitude. The farm, the hard work, the connection he’d built with these two women—it had all become more than just a way to pass the time as he recovered. It had become something real, something meaningful.
“Thank you,” he said quietly. “For everything.”
Lyra nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Just don’t forget to fix that other section of the fence tomorrow.”
Alexander chuckled, leaning back against the porch rail. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”