“Huff… huff….”

Letting out ragged breaths, I collapse to the floor, my training sword still grasped tightly in my hand. From the ground, I glare at the wooden dummy in front of me, still in perfect condition.

You know those damage test dummies in games? Made of wood or straw, but seemingly indestructible? When playing a game, it’s the kind of thing you overlook, but when facing one in real life, you come to realise how absolutely absurd the idea is.

Where am I even? Well, if you keep following the path towards the bottom of the village hill, going further than the field, you’ll eventually find yourself a mini training ground. It’s got some dummies and practice swords, but that’s about it.

I probably would’ve come here earlier out of extreme boredom if it wasn’t for that thing…

I glance ahead of me. The path keeps running down before shortly reaching its end, which also turns out to be the world’s end.

From there, a seemingly endless cliff stretches past the horizon, acting as a sort of boundary for this realm. Embedded into this cliff is a large, blue glowing gate…

The sight of it still sends shivers down my spine, but now my condition’s not bad enough to prevent me from training.

It’s obvious that if I want to have a better chance at victory, I’ll obviously have to get better at combat. Even if I was bestowed with some degree of skill, it’s still subpar at best, definitely not enough to soundly beat one of them, let alone three.

What am I practicing you may ask? That’s indeed a great question that I would love to have answered too. I mean, I know jackshit about swordsmanship, having nothing but this alien muscle memory.

But that in itself is a good starting point. If my swings feel off, I’m doing something wrong, If it feels natural then I’m working in the right direction. It’s the same sort of intangible feeling you get once you do something enough, I bet you’ve probably felt it before.

I even tried to look for some books on swordsmanship, but over 90% of the library is full of crap no one needs. Why would anyone ever need to read Fundamentals of Parallel Universes, or A Guide to Managing Soul Pools? What even are those?

Anyways, that’s enough rest for me. Time for another round of ‘whack the dummy’.

Pushing myself off the ground, I fall into a stance. However, just as I raise my sword over my head, a lax voice catches me by surprise.

“No, no, no. Please, just stop. I might actually end up killing myself if I watch any longer”

A man covered head to toe in purple scales sits coolly on the fence. Small wings stick out of his back as his glowing white eyes show a hint of exasperation.

A draconean, at least according to him. The shape of his body parts more closely resembles that of a human than a dragon. In fact, if you were to take away those scales and wings, and a few other things, he’d probably look exactly like one.

“Uhhh… Shivror? How long have you even been there? You know that’s kind of creepy right?” I ask in confusion.

“Long enough for those skills of yours to start pissing me off.” Shivror replies.

“Then go piss off! I don’t remember asking you to be here!”

“Hmmm… on a second thought, I’ve got nothing else to do. So don’t mind me and continue… dancing about, or whatever you’re meant to be doing.”

With a sigh, I resume my practice. Thankfully, it’s easy enough to ignore Shivror. He isn’t overly annoying, nor large, nor loud. In fact, he’s surprisingly normal, though in this place, that is quite strange in itself.

Though because of that, his gaze still mildly unsettles me. I mean, having a silent observer just doesn’t feel the same as doing something alone. It’s like I’m constantly being judged!

His eyes are narrowed, seemingly lost in thought. He doesn’t even acknowledge that I’m sneaking some glances at him.

Well, there’s no reason to worry about him, this practice is all that matters right now, so I should start to focus.

I continue attacking the dummy, only just noticing the peaceful atmosphere. Complete silence, only broken by occasional gusts of wind and the repeated strikes of my sword. Never could I have imagined that I’d find myself so far removed from the busy life I’d grown used to. However, this calmness I feel is overshadowed by a constant restlessness. The feeling that I shouldn’t be here. The feeling that time is slipping between my fingers. The feeling that I’m meant for more than this.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

This tranquillity, that some people would kill to attain, continues to gnaw at me. This absence of any sort of pressure is almost like a void. A stress-free life is hardly a life at all. Maybe that’s why I’m here, desperately trying to find a way out. I’m not sure about the others, but I find this sort of life completely unbearable.

Heh, who could’ve imagined that I’d fondly look back on the days I spent crunching away? Though that may just be me being the weirdo I am.

Shivror finally gets off the fence, grabbing a sword from the rack.

“Hey newbie, stop playing about and come spar with me.”

“Gah! Just let me practice in peac-! Wait, spar?”

I thought this guy just wanted to mess with me, but he’s actually going to help? Well, there’s no reason to refuse, it’ll probably help me more than what I’m doing, fighting against an actual opponent and all.

“Sure.” I agree.

We head over to an open sparring ground, adjacent to the area with the dummies.

Facing each other from either end, Shivror raises his sword at me, grinning.

“Well then, come at me, newbie.”

Now that’s the second time he’s called me that. Does he think he’s cool? Trying to flex his superiority. Wait, how good is he even? I probably should’ve gotten that clarified beforehand.

“It would be pretty damn funny if your ass gets beaten after all that talk.” I taunt.

“You couldn’t even dream of it.” He replies. “Now stop wasting time and come! Fight!”

I was feeling pretty confident, but at the word ‘fight’, my body freezes.

How exactly does one fight?

How could I, with practically no experience in combat, initiate a battle? What do I even do? Charge at him? I’ve watched enough TV to know how that will turn out. That would make this bout ego-feeding exercise for him. Do I approach slowly? But what would even be the point of that?

Every possible action seems like a fatal error. Wasn’t there a saying that went like ‘Don’t interrupt your opponent when they’re making a mistake’? This whole situation is basically a trap! Should I just do nothing?

Shivror stares at me, clearly annoyed as I squirm about, struggling to solve this rather simple dilemma.

“Ugh.” he says, breaking the silence. “Here I thought I’d teach you a quick beginner’s lesson, but you’re slightly smarter than I assumed.”

“What? You thought I’d just hand my ass to you on a silver platter?”

“To be frank, after that pathetic performance before, yes.”

Am I really that bad at swinging a sword? I mean, it isn’t surprising since I just started today.

“How low was your opinion of me?” I ask. “I’m not some stupid kid you know?”

“Kid? You’re more like an infant. Aren’t you about seventeen now?”

“It’s not my fault this place if full of old hags.” I chuckle. Time is relative you know.

“Hah-hah!” Shivror laughs before taking an angrier tone. ”Let’s see you laugh after I give you the ass-beating your parents never gave you, kid!” He shouts as he begins to rapidly close in.

Shit! Now Shivror’s the one on the offensive. I should’ve just struck first; this is way too scary!

In a panic, I instinctively raise my sword, catching his attack with a blunt Thud. The impact sends tremors through my body.

But it doesn’t stop there. His offensive never lets up, driving me back with blow after blow, leaving no opportunity for a counter in the midst of my frantic defence.

Even if a gap were to present itself, I don’t possess either the skill or the confidence to take advantage of it.

Each strike comes down heavier than the last, my breath coming in short gasps. It’s a miracle my trembling arms can still find the strength to keep hold of my sword.

By the time I register his feint, he thrusts his sword into my chest. Courtesy of my horrendous balance, I’m sent crashing to the ground.

Embarrassingly, my initial indecision lasted longer than the actual fight.

Breathing manically, I glance at Shivror, who hasn’t even broken a sweat. In fact, he looks bored and even more displeased than before.

“I knew being the one on the offensive wouldn’t be as satisfying…” he murmurs.

He walks over and stares down at me, wearing quite the puzzled expression.

“Why are you grinning like an idiot? You lost you know?”

What’s not to be happy about? Sure, I lost, but if there’s someone so skilled in such a close vicinity to me, my most pressing issue has been solved.

It may have also hurt like hell, but that’s no issue, since here in The Haven, it’s somehow impossible to sustain injuries. That doesn’t make it hurt any less though.

“Hey Shivror, didn’t you say you were bored?” I ask, getting back on my feet.

“I don’t like where this is going...”

“Your suuuper bored, right?”

“Uhh, yeah? Who isn’t?” He replies, meekly scratching the back of his head, as if embarrassed to admit it.

“Then you don’t mind teaching me how to use a sword, right?”

“What?”

Why so surprised? What else could I have possibly requested?

“You’ll do it, right?” I pester.

“Uhm…”

“Right?”

“Ugh, fine, but you’ve to do what I say, ok?”

“As long as I’m in this training area, I probably will.”

“Probably? Only probably?”

“Yeah, it would be pretty greedy to expect any more from me, wouldn’t it?”

“But you’re the one who’s being- ugh.” Shivror rubs his temples in exasperation. “Anyways, that’s not the attitude of someone who wants to learn. You’ve got to show me more respect you know? If you’re going to be like that, I can just leave…”

“Sure then, bye-bye!” I say as I wave mockingly. “Leave. Have fun dying of boredom.”

I’ve gotten him cornered now; don’t see any way he can talk himself out of this one.

Shivror lets out a massive sigh. “Fine then” he mutters reluctantly, shaking his head like he’s made the worst decision in his life. “When do we start?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Alright...” He yawns. “I'm way too tired for any more of this shit. I just want to sleep.”

Dejected, Shivror retreats back to the village, his wings drooping in defeat. He may have won the battle, but it seems like I’m the one who’s won the war.

Contrary to him, I’m almost shaking in joy. The feeling of having yet another productive day never gets old. It's yet another win for me.

However, the very thought of my end goal still gives me goosebumps. Is it really possible for me to beat them?

Gazing at the glowing gate ahead of me, my grip tightens in resolve. With a deep breath, I raise my sword once more.