With no hesitation, his grandfather swung his longsword. He brought up his own blade to parry the strike. Unlike with all the other weapons, the blade did not tremble in his hands; it did not crack or falter. It endured. The two swordsmen, for that’s what they truly were, stood there locked in place, both refusing to yield ground.

But he was able to see that his grandfather was faltering. The old man’s arms started to quake and his knees began to bend. And soon enough, his younger self noticed, and instead of letting the opportunity pass, he decided to capitalize on the moment.

With a mighty heave, he was able to overpower his grandfather, forcing him to step backward. He made a strike on his grandfather's side. But before the blade could make contact his grandfather adeptly blocked the blow. The two exchanged a few more blows before they both simultaneously leaped away from one another.

After the first clash, the skill of the two combatants was clear. Both seemed evenly matched. Emmanuel had the slightest edge of skill over his grandfather and had slightly better endurance. However, his grandfather had his own tricks up his sleeves. Which he quickly demonstrated. He crouched down and before the young man could react, he grabbed a handful of sand and threw it into his eyes.

After years of sparring with the old geezer, Emmanuel was accustomed to his tricks.

So, to avoid getting sand in his eye, he lunged backwards and ducked his head.

During the first exchange, his grandfather had slowly but surely carved a small indent into the ground. Emmanuel caught the edge of the indent with his backward lunge and tumbled to the ground. Maybe he didn’t know all the old man’s tricks after all.

His grandfather pounced towards his prone body. His grandfather lifted his blade and lightly rested the tip of his sword on his opponent’s throat.

“Your skill with the blade is still tremendous for your age; but that skill does not translate to your spatial awareness,” the old man said with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“I know, okay!” replied while batting away his grandfather’s proffered hand.

Over the course of the next two hours, the two continuously sparred with swords. Although occasionally they would switch to a different style, like a katana or a great sword, and even once to small daggers, the two primarily used long swords. Each lost as many fights as he won.

His younger self usually won when he didn't make stupid mistakes, paid attention to his environment, and capitalized on opportunities artificial or natural.

His grandfather won when he either came up with some crafty plan to trick young Emmanuel or caught his attention, lacking.

Seeing the duel between the two reminded him of how to improve his current fighting prowess. Although his environmental awareness had certainly improved, he still had a long way to go.

The two jumped out of the ring and his grandfather entered the shed one last time. When his grandfather emerged he was carrying no weapons. Instead, he walked over to him and placed his hand on Emmanuel’s shoulder.

“Good work today; the rest of the day is yours.”

Without another word he walked back into the house.

Emmanuel’s vision flowed and seemed to linger for a moment but he wasn't sure what. then he realized

It was a

simple

door

unmistakably

ordinary

but he felt like he had seen it before…

And then it all came crashing back to him. The door, the blackness, the thing in the blackness. The burning house of his father and mother. The Greenies and him being tortured: all came back in a flood. But before he could do anything, the door closed and the blackness returned.

But this time the memories didn't fade and the door only stayed closed for a fraction of a second before opening once more.

The scene revealed was quite strange.

Instead of his past self, he saw immense thunderclouds. And time seemed to speed up as within moments he saw the life cycle of the storm. First, it became a torrential downpour and then the air began to thrum with energy.

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He instinctively knew what was going to happen next as blue lightning struck the ground not 3 meters from where his vision was fixed. And with the strike of that lightning bolt, he remembered the scene.

He had just finished his first year in college and was on his summer break so he decided to go camping in the mountains. Unfortunately, although the forecast, unsurprisingly, didn't predict the mass of the thunderstorm, it still happened. As a result, he was stuck out in the woods alone in the heart of a thunderstorm.

Being the stubborn bastard that he was, he decided that he'd be fine to just hang out in his tent. To his utter surprise, 10 minutes later when he decided to go take a leak, just as he was about to return to his tent a lightning bolt hit the ground not 3 meters away from him.

The experience, of course, scared the living daylights out of him. From that day forward he never messed with the storm again.

The door appeared once more and with its opening revealed yet another new scene but just as fast as it appeared, the scene faded to black. Then once again, quickly on the heels of the storm, the door reopened.

The new scene was far tamer in comparison to the thunderstorm. Before him stood an altar with a photo of a familiar old man. Flowers framed the altar. The sight dredged up the deep pain within him. His grandfather had only died 2 years ago, right after he finished college. The doctor said it was because he overexerted himself too much. But Emmanuel never believed what the doctors told him.

Something inside of his brain knew that the old man was tired. When his parents died the responsibility of raising Emmanuel had fallen upon his grandfather. Somehow Emmanuel always knew that when he was fully grown and his own life truly began that his grandfather would not be there anymore. Still, that knowledge certainly didn't help abate the pain within him.

The scene slowly faded into the blackness and the door reappeared. And then once again it opened.

The door continued to show crucial moments in the foundation and turning points in Emmanuel's life. The first time he held a blade. His acceptance letter into college. His graduation ceremony. Finding his shitey apartment. His first date.

But each time the door opened and closed time sped up; the memories blurred by faster and faster before they became incoherent.

Suddenly the door snapped shut with an overwhelming force and crumbled into dust. Still, surprisingly, the blackness did not return and instead, he saw a gruesome scene. his vision didn't shift to that of his flesh and blood eyes. instead, it remained the same as when he viewed the memories.

As a result, he was able to see a human figure. On further inspection, he realized that the body was his own, although at first glance it was so ravaged that he couldn't recognize it.

To say he was a mess was an understatement. His ribs look just about ready to jump out from the flesh. He had more bruises, cuts and scrapes than alabaster skin. His legs were so mangled that he doubted his body would ever walk ever again.

In his imagination he could see the reaper waiting in the shadows, ready to take him to whatever came next.

But before it could he heard voices and the clattering of boots on stone.

“Are the masses gathered?” the first voice, high-pitched and nasally, inquired.

“Yep, we just go to grab the prisoner” replied the second voice. Which, in comparison to the first, was surprisingly bland.

“Well then, what are you waiting for? Go grab them” the first voice retorted.

Then Emmanuel heard rattling at the door and two Greenies entered. Both of them were of the bigger variety and both quickly walked over to his prone body and produced small silver keys. They inserted the keys into his shackles and Emmanuel’s body fell to the floor.

One Greenie picked up the shackles and walked out of the room. Emmanuel’s vision followed the two Greenies through the dungeon and back to the spiral staircase that he was previously dragged down. The dungeon seemed not to have changed; he didn't remember what or who the inmates were. So he couldn't be sure if the occupants of the dungeon had changed.

To the best of his knowledge, it was the same smelly, horribly lit dungeon. To his horror, the meat hooks with heads on them were still there. He had completely forgotten about their existence until he saw blood drip onto his limp corpse.

The two Greenies didn't seem to mind the blood dripping on them and just continued walking. Once they had reached the top of the staircase they exited through the same doors and out of the palace and into the town. After a while, the two Greenies stopped at what seemed to be the main town square.

He remembered when the soldiers had escorted him by the square; however, this time there was a major difference. The town square was now thronging with people. Above the ocean of green was a wooden stage with two large Greenies on it.

The first Greenie was impeccably dressed in what looked like clothes befitting a Medieval European nobleman. The second Greenie was a giant of its kind. It was easily a head taller than the other Greenie who was already a seemingly tall specimen.

The giant Greenie’s equipment was also of a much higher quality than that of the horde. With only a cursory glance at it, he could easily tell the armor was custom-made. It was still shiny and even though it had clearly seen a couple of battles, the armor remained in impeccable condition.

At the Greenie’s hip were a multitude of weapons. The Greenie had a hammer, a whip, and most importantly a sword. Seeing the blade, something seemed to stir within his and his body gained consciousness.

His vision shifted from the external perspective to that of his own eyes. Or, rather, singular eye as one had been removed sometime during the torture.

The two Greenies that had escorted him now brought him up to the stage and pinned him down. They did so in a manner to place his head perfectly and within range of the crowd once it was removed from his neck.

He didn't really know why they were executing him or why they kept him in the first place, but he told himself he could surely change their minds about chopping off his head.

After a few words from the richly dressed Greenie, the Greenie dressed in armor moved to Emmanuel’s side. With the metallic screech of a sword exiting its scabbard, the armored Greenie swung its blade down at Emmanuel’s neck.