Clouds rolled over the mountains in the valley as if they hurried to witness the beating that was about to take place. The morning sun gazed down on three of the four occupants of Shalebeak village.

Ainsle, to Ann’s dismay, was helped out of bed and sat down on perhaps one of only two undamaged chairs in the village. She looked the part of a retired sixty-something-year-old woman, with a blanket on her lap and the stray locks of her grey-blonde hair blowing in the cool breeze. The bandage across her missing eye added to her ‘retired veteran’ persona.

Ben and Jor had cleared an area of rubble in front of the cottage. The young man stood awkwardly with the tarnished short sword in hand.

"Uh, by the way, do you know what happened to this village? I thought we’d find people here," asked the young man. Most definitely not stalling the inevitable.

"You sly bastard! No talking your way out of it!" hollered the Berserker.

Jor’s lips quirked before adopting a more serious expression.

"Well, Ain and I passed through here, with our squad and detachment, about six months ago. The village was… whole back then."

"Could bandits have done this?" Asked Ben.

"I doubt it. It doesn’t make sense to destroy the village and take the bodies with them."

She shifted on her feet, seemingly anxious about something she had recalled.

"Sorry, I forgot that you aren’t up-to-date with current events. I’m afraid times aren’t the best in the Empire at the moment. There have been reports of remote villages going quiet and sightings of creatures in areas where there were previously none. Each new report is more bizarre than the last."

"Like the Witigos we ran into in the forest?"

Jor blinked at the mention of the name.

"No. Well, yes, but… Listen, Ben. You’d do well not to invoke the names of ancient beings so carelessly." She admonished.

"Oh. Sorry." Said the young man, feeling embarrassed.

"No. It’s alright, you couldn’t have known," she sighed. "Those spirits aren’t known to engage travelers, but rather only those who rest in their woods. It’s said that they see it as their territory being infringed upon."

"________’s tits, woman! You should’ve been a Storyteller instead of a Squad Leader!" Ainsle interrupted, impatiently.

Jor laughed at the heckle.

"Seems like our audience is getting restless. Okay, let's see what you can do."

The Archer stood casually and held a long wooden staff in one hand. Its midsection rested on her shoulder. She beckoned him forward with her free hand in a ‘come-here’ gesture.

"Wait. You said training. Training!" Ben panicked. "Not… whatever it is that you’re going to do to me!"

"Coward! Grow some hair on your balls!" Jeered the spectator.

"I told you. We need to assess your reflexes first, your eyes." She smirked. "You never know. Maybe there’s some latent talent or training hidden somewhere in there." Jor tapped the side of her head with a finger.

WHY is she enjoying this so much!?

"Just come at me and try to score a hit. Don’t worry about hurting me. While I may not be a Swordswoman or a Spearwoman, I should be alright." She grinned.

Sweat ran down Ben’s brow as he took a deep breath and charged towards the Archer. He lifted the oversized dagger above his head and…

…he was promptly sat down on his backside. He didn’t even see the woman move. She had settled into a low stance. Tip of her staff pointing forward in a two-handed horizontal grip. The aching of his left ankle told him that he had been tripped.

"Again," she said, tone impassive.

Ben ambled to his feet, took two steps back, and lunged forward, stabbing towards the Archer’s chest. He saw her that time. She twisted her torso, feet planted, and the short sword bit nothing but air. She twisted her hips; her stained white skirt spun and evoked an image of a flower spiraling through the air.

His vision went white for less than a blink, and he saw stars. His temple began to throb with the rhythm of his frantic heartbeat. He tasted sand and realized that he was lying down, face-first, on the dusty road.

Jor stood above him, eyes concerned, yet she made no move to help him up.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"Ben, you all right?" She asked.

"Yeah, I’m-"

The young man was interrupted by a loud thud against his side. He wheezed.

"Hmm. Seems like we have a lot of work to do," Jor said thoughtfully.

"Fuck me. I didn’t think he’d do much, but this? Boy’s got no talent." Ainsle remarked matter-of-factly.

Jor considered the prone form of the young man in front of her.

"Again."

Ben and his torturer ‘trained’ for the better part of an hour; their spectator supplied helpful and insightful commentary all the while. The Priestess called the trio in for breakfast, which the young man was more eager than usual to attend. Ann had wandered out into the fields of the village and managed to forage a substantial amount of the produce left behind by the villagers.

The meal was an oddly delicious vegetable stew, which Ben considered with apprehension. Images of the deadly ejection of a dangerous payload haunted the back of his mind as the party broke their fast together.

They sat on the floor around a low, makeshift table that the Priestess had assembled with what appeared to be the missing front door and other wreckage. The young man’s body ached in ways he never knew was possible. Ann looked at him with kind yet unsympathetic eyes. He struggled to make sense of each of the ladies’ sadistic tendencies.

Ben sighed and dreaded the prospect of future ‘training’ sessions.

"Don’t look so down, my heart. Everyone has to start somewhere," Ann said warmly.

"Most folks start a little higher than that, to be honest," the Berserker grinned.

Ben felt dejected. He wasn’t able to even imagine touching Jor during their spar. The way she moved wasn’t necessarily fast, but it was timed so impeccably that each action brought her out of harm’s way at the exact moment a strike would land. Jor had only ever countered his attempts. She had never advanced. The ravine between their abilities was immense.

"Ben," the Archer spoke, appearing to have noticed his melancholy. "I hope you don’t feel too discouraged. Today was an integral part of your training."

"What, to humble any pretensions I had?" He retorted as he massaged his bruised elbow.

Jor considered him for a beat, and her tone softened.

"That too, but the main goal of today was to teach pain."

Ben looked at her incredulously. The Priestess nodded knowingly, and Ainsle defaulted to her ever-present shit-eating grin. Jor continued.

"That look is the exact reason why this is so important. You must learn to avoid it at all costs, yet be able to deal with it and continue to press forward. If we had a real fight, you’d be in pieces now, and I’m sorry to say, my close-quarters combat ability is dismal compared to an average soldier of the Empire."

The young man stared at the Archer. He knew, logically, that she was completely correct in her assessment of him and that her methods were probably the most efficient road to competency. Yet, he struggled to bring himself to accept it.

"I get it. I do. But you all have had a lifetime to train and improve your skills… I feel like I’m starting from zero here. I mean, as far as I know, I’m only a few days old when it comes to experience."

Jor was about to respond when Ainsle spoke up.

"And that, Benny Bones, is why you’ll surpass all of us."

Ben frowned. The statement the old woman made lacked the usual sarcasm or vulgar jab that he associated with her. He had trouble deciphering the meaning behind the remark.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"It means you don’t have to make all the mistakes we made. Learn the bad habits. Like spitting on and flipping off a Blade Dancer, you thought you beat, and getting a memento of your fucking-bottomless stupidity on your bloody face." She traced the winding scar from between her eyes to her jaw with her finger.

Jor seemed to agree with the sentiment and offered her perspective as well.

"Precisely. You may not realize it, or rather, you wouldn’t realize it, but having an Avatar changes a lot of things." Her mood seemed to sober for a moment. "Regardless of your… special circumstances, the fact that one resides within you, even though you cannot Wield it yet, means you have a staggering advantage over someone who is really starting from zero."

Jor looked towards the Priestess as if to ask whether or not she had any input. Ann remained silent, to which Jor shrugged and continued.

"You’ll find that you can do more with less. Your body will be stronger, depending on the nature and your connection to the concept or ideal, and you’ll recover from wounds faster than a normal person is capable of. Ain is a great example of this."

The Berserker winked her one eye in acknowledgment.

"Does that mean I learn faster as well?" Ben asked, leaning forward on the door-table.

"Well, not necessarily, but that would depend on how you define learning faster. If you mean, your improved stamina and recovery allow you to put in more hours than would normally be possible, then yes. If you mean by some divine providence that you pick up techniques and lessons quicker, then no."

"After what I saw earlier, I think you’d best be on the grind, lover boy," Ainsle interjected.

"Look," Jor said. "You have to want to learn. This isn’t going to work if you’re just going through the motions because you feel like you have to." She paused as a thought came to her. "There is something else we might try." She looked once more at Ann.

The Priestess, usually quiet and withdrawn in the company of the two women, faced Ben and shook her head.

"The Squad Leader is suggesting magic. Unfortunately, I sense no meaningful mana well within you, and your conduits are… underdeveloped. Stunted," Ann said, voice laced with regret at being the deliverer of bad news.

"It’s alright. That means you’re a Null, like us," Ainsle said cheerfully.

"A Null? What’s that?" Ben inquired.

It was The Archer who answered.

"A Null is the… derogatory term used to refer to someone who can’t manipulate mana. The correct term-" She frowned at the Berserker, before returning her attention to Ben. "- is ‘mana-insensitive’."

The young man made a mental note of the nomenclature so as not to inadvertently offend anyone in the future.

"Got it," he acknowledged. "Any other ideas?"

"Princess, let me have him for a couple of days. I might have just the thing." Ainsle said to Jor.

"Of course, if you’re up to the task. Priestess?" The Archer asked Ann.

"As long as it doesn’t involve any strenuous exertion. The V- Ainsle should be fine to move about after a night’s rest. The wound shouldn’t rip open unless she’s particularly careless." Ann brushed a lock of hair behind her ear and met the Berserker’s gaze. "Please be sure to see that it doesn’t happen. My aid is only guaranteed so long as you cooperate with my instructions regarding your recovery. You endanger him the longer we stay here, and that is my limit."

The cold manner of address seemed to radiate outward into the atmosphere of the dilapidated house. Ainsle’s grin faltered for less than a heartbeat. She bristled but, almost immediately, reined in her lack of composure.

"As you wish, Priestess." Ainsle’s tone was the usual cheerful, light rasp he had come to know, but her eye spoke of a slight that wouldn’t be forgiven.