The morning light crept through the cracks in the wooden shutters, casting long shadows across the room. Aric sat on the edge of his bed, feeling the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him, but his mind buzzed with the knowledge Lira had given him the night before. He wasn’t just grappling with the inheritance of his father’s Labor—he was part of something far larger. The Prime Evil’s forces, the shards, the potential for a second Labor—all of it loomed over him like an unseen storm.

His body ached from trying to wield the sword the night before. He looked over at the blade resting by the hearth. It seemed almost to mock him, a symbol of the power he couldn’t yet control. His father’s Labor was locked within him, but his body wasn’t ready. Every time he tried to practice, his muscles screamed in protest, and his movements were clumsy compared to the smooth precision that the Labor wanted to manifest.

He stood, wincing slightly from the soreness in his legs, and reached for the blade. Its weight was familiar now, but still uncomfortable. He knew every technique in theory—his father’s swordsmanship had been transferred to him with the shard—but theory wasn’t enough. He wasn’t ready.

There was a knock at the door, and Aric instinctively reached out with his Talent. In a flash, his rifle manifested in his hands, solid and reassuring. His eyes narrowed as he approached the door, but as soon as he opened it, the tension eased.

Lira stood there, her expression calm but determined. She glanced at the rifle before looking back at him. “You’re quick with your Talent,” she said approvingly.

“It’s all I know how to do,” Aric said, letting the rifle vanish from his hands. “The sword… it’s not working.”

“You’re pushing your body beyond what it’s capable of right now,” Lira said, stepping inside. “Swordsmanship takes time, training. Your father spent years honing his skill and conditioning himself to handle the strain. You can’t rush that.”

Aric sighed, frustration boiling beneath his calm exterior. “I know, but I feel like I’m wasting time. I need to be ready, and every day I fail with the sword feels like a day I’m letting him down.”

Lira crossed her arms, watching him with a measured gaze. “Your father gave you his Labor, not to burden you, but because he believed you would grow into it. This is a process, Aric, not an instant victory.”

“I get that,” Aric muttered. “But I don’t feel like I’m getting any stronger.”

Lira’s expression softened slightly. “You will. And you have something else on your side—your Talent. It’s a rare gift, Aric. One that could make you unstoppable when used with the right Labor.”

Aric looked at her curiously. “How do you know so much about all of this? You talk about Talents, Labors, and the shards like it’s common knowledge, but no one in the village knows anything beyond the basic stories.”

Lira hesitated for a moment, glancing toward the hearth where the sword lay. “There’s a lot you don’t know about this world. The Prime Evil may have been struck down, but his forces are still at work, and the shards are a key part of that. I’ve spent years studying them, tracking them. That’s how I found you.”

“Because of the shard?” Aric asked.

Lira nodded. “Your father’s group, the ones who tried to hide the shards from the Prime Evil’s followers, they were small but powerful. They sacrificed everything to keep the shards out of enemy hands. But the followers have gotten smarter—they’re hunting down people like you, who’ve inherited shards or abilities linked to the Creator. And they’re getting closer.”

The weight of her words settled over him. Aric had always known there were greater dangers outside the village, but it had never felt real. Not until his father disappeared, and not until the moment he’d stared into his father’s twisted, demonized eyes in the Deadlands.

“So, what now?” Aric asked. “You said we’d start training today.”

Lira’s eyes brightened slightly with approval. “We will, but not with the sword. Not yet. First, you need to get control over your body. Swordsmanship requires more than just knowledge. You need endurance, flexibility, strength—all of it. For now, we’ll focus on conditioning.”

Aric couldn’t help the sigh that escaped him. He had hoped for more, something to push him toward the edge of mastery. But he also knew Lira was right. Without a strong foundation, the sword would remain out of reach, a distant goal.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

“Fine,” he said. “Where do we start?”

The training field outside the village was quiet, only a few scattered villagers practicing their own routines as the early morning light stretched across the land. Lira had taken Aric here to begin his conditioning, and despite his reluctance, Aric could feel the importance of these exercises.

“Today’s focus is stamina and strength,” Lira said, walking toward a row of simple wooden training dummies. “You need to build up your body’s endurance so you can handle the demands of your father’s Labor. It’s going to hurt, but it will prepare you for what’s coming.”

Aric nodded, though part of him was impatient. He wanted to wield the sword now, to live up to the Labor his father had passed down. But he forced himself to listen. Lira knew more than anyone about this strange world of Talents, Labors, and shards.

“What about my second Labor?” Aric asked, curiosity finally winning over. “You said everyone can have two. How do I unlock it?”

Lira stopped in front of one of the training dummies and turned to face him. “Unlocking a second Labor is something that happens through intense personal growth. Some people discover theirs through years of training; others through a moment of crisis. Your second Labor will come when you’re ready for it, when your body and mind are fully aligned with your abilities. Until then, focus on what you can control.”

Aric tried to mask his frustration. His marksmanship was something he had always controlled. His Talent had evolved with him, growing sharper as he honed it. But the Labor—the idea of unlocking another one—felt like a far-off dream.

“Focus on your Talent for now,” Lira continued, her tone sharp and commanding. “Your marksmanship is your greatest strength. You can manifest it better than most, and your ability to analyze the battlefield through your eyes is an advantage you can build on.”

Aric nodded, though his thoughts wandered back to the previous night. The rifle he could summon at will was something familiar, a piece of him, and as Lira had said, it would grow stronger the more he practiced. But the potential of having two Labors—two distinct sets of abilities—gnawed at him. He wanted to know what his second Labor would be. Would it align with his marksmanship, or would it push him in another direction?

Lira’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Now, hit the target,” she said, pointing to the training dummies lined up in front of them.

Without a second thought, Aric summoned his rifle. It appeared in his hands like an extension of his body, sleek and polished, as natural to him as breathing. He took aim, the world narrowing to a single point, his mind calculating the distance, the weight of the air, the angle of the shot.

The bullet flew straight and true, striking the dummy squarely in the chest. The impact echoed through the empty training ground, a reminder of the precision he had honed over years of practice.

“Good,” Lira said, walking up beside him. “But you can do more. Your Talent isn’t just about accuracy. It’s about control. Manifest it stronger. Make the rifle an extension of your will, not just your body.”

Aric frowned, unsure of what she meant, but he focused again. He summoned the rifle once more, this time trying to concentrate not just on the act of firing but on the weapon itself. He thought about how the gun had grown with him over the years, from a simple firearm to a finely tuned tool of precision. But now, Lira was asking for something more—something beyond just firing it.

He gripped the rifle tighter, closing his eyes for a moment. He imagined the weapon not as a separate object but as a part of him, an extension of his mind, his will. When he opened his eyes, the rifle had changed. It was longer, sleeker, and darker, its edges sharper, the barrel gleaming with a faint glow of power.

Aric’s heart raced. This wasn’t just an evolution of his Talent—this was something deeper.

“Now,” Lira said, her voice almost a whisper, “fire.”

He aimed again, and this time, as the shot rang out, he could feel the power behind it. The bullet struck the training dummy, and the entire structure shuddered from the force, splintering into pieces with a single shot. The air crackled with energy, and Aric stood still, staring at what he had just done.

Lira smiled slightly, her arms crossed. “That’s the beginning. Your Talent has potential beyond what you’ve been using it for. Your marksmanship is not just about hitting targets—it’s about controlling the battlefield, seeing every angle, using your mind and will to shape the environment.”

Aric lowered the rifle, letting it dissolve in his hands. His chest still buzzed with the residual energy from the shot, and his muscles tingled with a strange sensation, almost as if they had remembered something they hadn’t learned yet.

“I didn’t know it could be that powerful,” Aric muttered.

“Your Talent grows with you,” Lira replied, stepping closer. “It’s a manifestation of your skill, your mind. As you push yourself, it will evolve. And when you’re ready, your second Labor will follow.”

Aric looked at her, curiosity burning in his chest. “Do you know what my second Labor will be?”

Lira shook her head. “No one can know that for certain. A second Labor is shaped by the person who earns it. It could be something that enhances your Talent, or it could be something entirely different—something that challenges you in a new way.”

Aric felt a flicker of both excitement and unease. The idea of unlocking more power was thrilling, but the unknown nature of the second Labor made him wary. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for it—physically or mentally.

But he had no choice. He had to be ready. The world wasn’t going to wait for him to catch up.

Lira gestured to the training dummies again. “We’ll keep pushing today. Your conditioning needs to improve, but your mind is your greatest weapon. If you can control your Talent like this, you’re already on your way to mastering your father’s Labor.”

Aric nodded, gripping his fists tightly. He would have to focus, push through the aches, and embrace the training. His father had believed in him, trusted him with a responsibility far greater than Aric had ever imagined.

The training was hard, and the hours passed in a blur of sweat and exertion. Lira didn’t let him slow down, keeping him moving, pushing him through routines designed to build his endurance and strength. But no matter how much his body protested, his mind kept coming back to that shot—the moment when he had truly connected with his Talent.

He could feel it now. His Talent was growing, evolving with every effort. And somewhere on the horizon, a second Labor awaited him.

But before that, there was one thing he had to do. He had to master his father’s Labor, no matter how long it took.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, Lira called an end to the day’s training. Aric collapsed onto the ground, his muscles aching, his breath ragged. But for the first time in a long while, he felt something other than frustration. He felt progress.

Lira knelt beside him, her tone serious. “Tomorrow, we’ll push harder. The followers of the Prime Evil won’t wait for you to be ready. But if you keep at this, if you grow into your father’s Labor and unlock your second one, you’ll be more than ready to face what’s coming.”

Aric nodded, too exhausted to speak. He knew the road ahead was long, but for the first time since his father’s death, he felt like he was walking it with purpose.