She did not.

She had given him another slab of training. One so frightening, it made his stomach curl into a tight little ball.

His stomach remembered the pain of melting from the inside out. He was, of course, talking about his master’s cooking.

She placed a bowl of purple mud in front of him. Her arms were crossed, and shadows covered her face.

“Eat it.”

Remy’s lips quivered, as he grabbed her pants leg. “I don’t want to die. Please, don’t kill your only disciple.”

A reassuring hand gently clasped his shoulder. She gave him a smile a mother would make.

“Eat it. This is also your training,” she pointed to the bowl. “This is poison training.”

“It’s not fair.” Remy pulled on his face. “Your daughter threw me in the air. I had to fight a giant bird.”

“It’s fine.” She pointed to the corner of the room.

It was something he didn’t notice, but there she was, knocked out. A bowl of purple mud spilled all over the floor.

“You would do that to your own daughter?” Remy gasped.

“Remy.” His master sat down in the chair next to him. She took a spoonful of the purple mud as easily as if it were beef stew. “I have never been able to make real food. My gift and curse is cooking poison. No matter if I follow the directions, or whatever ingredients I use, it turns out to be poison. It’s why my party died, but it’s also why I was able to escape from the Big Lock Prison. It’s why I was able to buy this home after selling it to the assassin’s guild.”

“Hmmmm.” Remy rubbed his chin, narrowing his eyes at the poison. “You don’t say.”

“Here!”

She plunged the spoon of poison in his mouth. The effects were immediate. He gasped as his throat clenched closed. Blood dribbled from his nose, ears, eyes, and mouth like a faucet turned. Painful convulsions made him flounder on the floor like a fish and the edge of his vision was being consumed by the blackness of death.

His master watched him as she finished her serving. She opened her mouth, and the words came out slow and slurred.

“Suuuuuuurrrrrvvviiiiiiveeeee fooooooooooorrrr twweeeeeeeeeennnnnttttyy miiinnnnuuuuuttttess.”

Foam bubbled from his mouth. The pain overwhelmed him and threatened to cut the thread of consciousness. Still, Remy stayed conscious. Like she said, this was training.

He saw her smile and give a nod of approval. She threw her daughter over her shoulder and left the kitchen as he struggled to survive of the effects of the poison.

#

He survived the night, and by early morning when the sun was peaking through the hills, Remy was able to move. He scooped some of the poison mud in a couple of empty potion bottles that he had in his room.

A sinister smile spread across his face.

He couldn’t wait to sell this poison, to get enough gold to buy back his sword now.

He heard the wood creak and he froze with the vial in his hand. His head mechanically turned towards the sound.

“Oh, you’re awake.” His master walked in with a steaming coffee cup. She took a sip and taking in the scene and nodded understanding what was happening. “You can’t sell that in the market. No one will buy it, and if you try to sell it, the knights are going to arrest you and you’re going to have to fight more than the Dollmaster.”

“Shut up!” Remy yelled, slamming his fist to the table. “This is my reward for surviving that poison.”

“You want the poison as a reward for surviving training?” She arched an eyebrow at that. She walked around the table, and sat down. “You know, sure why not. This is also training. Show me what you’ll do with that poison. Go ahead and try to sell it. Go ahead and poison someone. Make sure you’re not caught though, or I’m going to give you another punishment.”

“Eh, really?” He narrowed his eyes at her. “This is suspicious. You never give me a reward.”

“Like I said. It’s training. I want to see what you do. Plus, I kind of feel sorry for you. To think that you took a beating from an adult Devil Bear.” She snickered at that. “You really more training.”

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“All I do is train.” He threw up his hands. “You should give me some slack. I did well considering the training.”

“No.” She took a sip, waving her index finger. “You made mistakes. First you allowed my daughter to throw you in the air, twice. Second, your movements were sluggish when you fought that bear in the pit fight, you missed many opportunities to counter the bear, but you allowed yourself to fear having your face carved out by its swipes. Third, you could have ended the fight with the bird when it neared the tree, but you weren’t paying attention, and had to wait another twenty minutes before you got low enough again.”

“I-I knew that.” He blinked. “If you were watching me, you could have helped me.”

“That’s your duty. Your duty is survival. I cannot save you on a whim all the time. It would only make you reliant on me. My duty is to ensure that you learn from your mistakes and allow you to grow as a Hero.”

Remy grabbed his face and shook his head. He sighed, and deflated down to the chair. He heard a creak, and then he stood up as Kanoa staggered in the kitchen, clearly under the aftereffects of the poison.

Her face was pale, and there were purple bags under her eyes.

“Good morning.” She looked to her mom. “Hey mom, why is there a-”

“Do you have something to say to my disciple here?” She cut her off and watched her as she made her way to the table.

Remy offered her his seat, and she sat down promptly.

The chair immediately gave in, breaking and she fell on the ground, releasing a scream.

Remy patted his stomach. His laughter came deep from his belly. He almost couldn’t breathe. He actually was having a hard time.

Remy gasped, air wasn’t coming down his throat. Remy’s eyes bulged as it swiveled around to look for the source. He found it. The elf was lying in front of him, her hands outstretched, her eyes burned with rage and hatred.

Since he knew the source, it didn’t matter if he couldn’t breathe. He had been trained to hold his breath for thirty minutes while having his feet tied to an anchor, and his stomach being punched by his master.

He stepped up to her and reached down at the elf. She was surprised by his relative calmness and struck him with an air claw attack. It cut the air in five marks, but Remy had stepped back to avoid it.

His eyes widened in shock. That wasn’t a move a human could use. That was something he had seen a monster use on him once. It had come from a Pop Lion. Remy turned to his master, and it took one look for her to understand what he had realized. She gave him an affirmative nod.

Remy stepped up towards the blue haired elf and pulled her up to her feet. He gave her a long stare, gestured for her to stop. She hissed and refused.

Gently he patted her shoulder, giving her a big smile, and lifted his hand in front of her face. He flicked his middle finger hitting her head. She fell to the ground, and her hold on him finally dissipated. His nostrils flared as he breathed in the sweet air.

“So.” He stroked his chin looked down at the elf and then to his master. “Your daughter is a Red Mage. That’s pretty nifty. I was wondering why she wanted those crystals. So it was to absorb their abilities.”

“I know how to make them don’t I?” Her tone didn’t match her pride in those words.

Remy once more, started to laugh. “This is so crazy. What exactly are you?” Remy stopped laughing and stared at her hard. “Master, what are you? How can you have an elf as a daughter? You don’t look older than thirty.”

Her clear red eyes stared at him for a silent moment. He could feel pressure being applied to him, enough to make him feel uncomfortable. She went back to her coffee, taking a long sip.

“If you want to know, you have to earn it. Let’s say if you defeat the Dollmaster with the chains on.”

“Do you want me to turn into a doll?” He bristled at that. “You’ll lose your number one disciple.”

“I wouldn’t say you’re my number one disciple. I would say maybe my third.”

He felt like he sunk into the ground. “You have another disciple?”

“I’ve had other ones. Right now, I have two. You and my daughter laying on the ground right there.” She put her mug down. “You should go soon. Whatever you’re going to use that poison for, you should take your time and decide. A Hero is a person that uses whatever he can use to get the job done. Go show me you can do it.”

Remy snorted. “Of course I will. I will show you what I’ll use this poison for.” He held the vial high in the air. “I will show you!”

He was about to leave, when he passed by Terry who was sitting in front of the door. He was giant man with ebony skin and a calm smile. A chill went down Remy’s spine as he held up his fists ready to fight him.

Terry chuckled, flipping a page in the book he was reading. “I’m not here for you today, Remy. My training involves Morgan’s daughter.”

“Oh.” He kept his fists up. “That’s exactly what you would say if you were trying get my guard down.”

“It’s good your wary. You should be. But go ahead and pass by me. You don’t have a choice after all. You’re too big to fit in any windows to escape.”

The bald bastard was right. Remy kept his fists up and shuffled past him carefully. Like he was a corpse that might leap at him if he moved too close.

Remy was able to get around Terry without an incident. The man flipped another page in his book.

“Have a nice day, Remy,” Terry said without looking up from his book.

“Go eat a bag of-”

“Don’t say anything rude.” He lifted a finger, a ball of purple light floated above it.

Remy narrowed his eyes. “Dicks.”

For the first time, Terry’s gaze met Remy’s. The air between them felt like it was on the verge of snapping. Remy was ready to fight the man, and it looked like Terry was about to release the purple ball upon him.

“No.” He finally said. The purple ball died down and he went back to his book. He shooed him. “I will not fight you today. You do not hold my interest. Now leave!”

Remy waited a moment, and a smile cracked upon his face. “You little scaredy cat. I guess I-”

A purple lance stabbed his head. Remy cracked his neck to the left, letting the lance cut the air where his head had been. Terry gave him a dead stare. The lance retreated back into the perfect ball.

“You are warned.”

Remy snickered. “It’s not like you could even beat me anymore. The last time we fought, who was it that came out on top.” He tapped his chest. “Me.”

His unflappable face was cracking, turning red. “It’s only because you got that lucky shot, that I-”

“It’s not luck. It’s all skill.” Remy goaded him further. “You might have beaten me when I was a thirteen-year-old kid, but…you know, you couldn’t even beat me if I was a thirteen-year-old boy now.” He chortled.

“Is that Remy I still hear? Does he wish for training?” His master’s voice called out from the kitchen.

Remy jumped out of the window. Rolling and made a safe landing. Sensing mana well up from the house, he made a mad dash, pushing aside anyone that was in his way.