Tiago:

During the same time…

Crack…Crack…Crack! The leather belt was pulled taunt and whipped into Tiago's back again and again. With each snap, his father would pause to take a swig of some unnamed alcoholic beverage he had set aside on his desk. The room was dark, with a small amount of light spilling in through a gap in the curtains that his father had closed. The light illuminated small dark red patches of dried-up blood. Tiago wouldn’t have known what time it was if it weren’t for the light. At that moment, he was struggling even to remain conscious,

“You know you forced my hand, boy. If there is one thing we don’t do, it is to lay our blades on the maidens in our household.” His words slurred slightly due to the influence of alcohol.

He heard his father take a few steps back towards his desk, where he had pulled a chair to sit.

It was a moment of peace for Tiago; he sat on his knees, slightly hunched over. Every breath he drew was accompanied by sharp pains as his back muscles flexed. He could feel every gash. He stared down at the floor, his vision blurring in and out of focus. He raised his hands into his view, and the dried blood cracked on his hands.

“Not too much longer, alright, son, I am beginning to tire.”

His father rose from his chair and stepped towards him again, and he seemed to sway with his footing. He was drunk out of his mind. This reminded Tiago of his old life when he had been captured. Tortured for information, an enemy nation had surrounded his whole unit and killed everyone but him. Tiago's unit had taken out at least 300 men before he was captured, and his interrogator was torturing him out of spite, as his men had died at Tiago's hand. Starved in a bunker for weeks until one day, they made a mistake and put a rookie on guard duty. He had left that building covered in blood as well, much like the blood that covered him now. Anger started to fill Tiago's mind. Countless lives were taken, and countless lives were lost.

Crack. Tiago took a sudden sharp breath, he had lost focus, and the snapping of the large metal belt on his back took him by surprise.

“Finally, a reaction. Maybe now you’ll learn.” His father raised his arm, belt in hand, preparing for a much harder strike. Tiago's heart began racing, and panic filled his system. It was like he was on those fields of war all over again. Time seemed to slow down, and as the belt began swinging downwards, Tiago started to hyperventilate. Like a survival instinct, he pushed his hands on the floor and leaped forward, spinning backward. Narrowly dodging the swinging belt that soared past. His father catches the speeding belt. Tiago's eyes darted wildly around the room, his back arched forward, backing himself into a corner. Tore, his father, peered at his bloodied son. Who looked to him like more of an animal stuck in a trap. He stepped forward and cracked the whip in the air in front of his son. Tiago flinched, recoiling, his eyes continuing to rapidly scan the room as his father slowly approached every swaying step he took. He swung the belt around his head and cracked in the air. Tiago's eyes lock on a burnt-out candelabra. He leaned further forward, aiming to duck under the swimming belt to reach the burnt-out candle holder. His father was a few steps away from him when a sudden thrashing of the door began as it rattled rapidly.

His father turned his head to the door. A voice can be heard, Tia screaming out for Tiago.

“Tiago, what's going on!”,

“Your brother is busy right now!” he yelled angrily to his young daughter,

He turned back to Tiago, but he was no longer in front of him. He drunkenly turned around. Throwing his weight around the wooden floor creaked. In his drunken vision, he couldn’t see Tiago. The boy had hidden himself behind the desk, crouched down low, eyeing his father with terrified eyes. Candelabra in hand. However, from Tiago's point of view, his father was long gone. It was him alone in the battlefield again. No way out. He must survive. Voices were screaming in his ear, comrades and civilians who had screamed their will to survive. This man in front of him was a threat, and threats were eliminated. That was his job.

His father took another lumbering step towards his desk, he called out.

“Son, it isn’t much-” He burped, “Longer anyways.” he patted his chest.

Tiago immediately dashed down low, his father taking a step back in surprise. Tiago quickly swung the candelabra into his father's left shin, pushing into the bottom to dig the prong as deep as possible. The Candelabra penetrated through the skin, and his father let out a small grunt of pain, swinging his arm down to swat him away. The hair on Tiagos neck stood on its end as he leaped backward as the hand passed through the space he once was. The air seemed to ripple from the pressure of the attack. If he had been hit, he would’ve been sent straight through the wall. Tiago raised his fists, his target was at least 3 times his height and several more of that wide. His father reached down to the candle holder impaled onto his leg and grabbed its end. Pulling it out, he looked at the bloodied tip of where the candles were previously. Then, to Tiago, who stood prepped for a fight. He raises the candelabra and clenches his fist. His fingers curl into the metal, warping and bending it slightly. Tiago can see the anger on his face as his eyes focus on Tiago, recognising him as a threat, much like he had.

Suddenly, the door to the room swings open, and light floods into the dimly lit room, illuminating the grim scene. Blood splattered the center of the room atop sheets that had been put out to reduce the mess. His father’s front side had splotches of blood on his front. Tiago stood shirtless. His knight's pants were on with metal guards on his shins, and his boots were still strapped. Poised for a counterattack. His right arm was guarding, and his left was kept low, out of sight from his father. Tore did not break eye contact with Tiago as Tia ran inward, gasping at the sight.

“What is going on!? What have you done, Father!”

“Leave now, Tia; Your brother believes he has finally become a man.”

She ran over the bloodied sheets and raised her hand to stop her father when he suddenly threw the Candelabra at the wall to the left of Tiago, smashing a hole straight through. Natural light illuminated the remaining darkness from the gaping hole in the wall. Tia pushed her hand on his back, and he turned sharply, his eyes fixated on her.

“I said LEAVE!” He shouted, slamming the back of his hand into her, sending her flying into the bookshelf on the wall she came from. She spat blood out of her mouth and onto the floor. As she keeled forward into herself, Tore stopped suddenly, realizing what he had done. He raised his hands to his face. Tears welling up, Tiago immediately sprinted forward; his attitude completely changed. The moment Tia entered the room, he regained his senses but was still aiming to defend himself from his father's wrath. However, the moment he attacked his sister, everything changed. His only ambition for his new life was to protect his new sister, but he couldn’t fail again. He remembered the moves his father had taught him. That solidifying energy rippled through his muscles as he moved. Tensing wanted to be released when he attacked. He sprinted at his father and raised his hands. He needed a blade, and he needed to defend his sister. He leaped into the air, white energy growing up his arms in veins and spilling out into his right arm's palm, forming a brilliant white blade. He strikes downwards, the blade pierces straight through, stabbing deep into his father's back. His father howled in pain swinging around aimlessly to throw him off his back. Tiago gripped the hilt of this white blade, but the strength left him quickly; whatever energy had been used had already dissipated. His fingers went loose, but the blade did not leave his hand. It seemed to be connected directly to his skin. As his father violently jerked around, he did not let go. However, before he could do anything, Tore gripped onto his shoulders and threw him forward. The blade shattered in its middle as he was sent flying towards his sister, slamming into another section of the bookshelf, the broken blade disappearing in his hand and in his father's back. His father turned slowly towards his kids, who lay unconscious on the floor of his room. He yelled out in frustration.

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“Curse this world!”

Tiago's memory was fragmented from that moment. As he regained consciousness in and out, his mother, Joseph, and Shilah arrived, and his father was taken away. Joseph had then opened the curtains to the room. The light blinded Tiago, causing him to close his eyes. When they opened again, he was in his bedroom. Joseph stood next to his bed, opening his curtains just like he had done in his father's office, and a brilliant morning light lit up his face. Tiago rose out of bed and immediately looked at his hands. They were completely clean. He tapped around his bed, all appendages accounted for. Joseph noticed his somewhat panicked state and reassured him.

“Everything is accounted for; however, the scars will not fade so soon. “

Tiago swung his legs out of his bed finding he was only in his underpants; He felt perfectly healthy. He then walked to the mirror on the wall across from his bed. He turned to show his back, which had multiple large scars running across them. He sighed. He really didn’t think he got so many ugly scars so early in his life.

“I assure you, master Tiago, the ladies love a few scars.” Joseph attempted to console him,

“Not ones from their own father.” He spat back.

He didn’t think he’d feel such vitriol for the situation as the beating was for his benefit as well, but he would not be the punching bag for a decrepit veteran. He never thought he would suffer from any kind of trauma from the field, but maybe he and his father weren’t so different.

“Ahem, anyway,” Joseph coughed awkwardly, “Your Father would like to talk to you. With your mother present of course, he does feel extremely remorseful for his actions.”

Joseph then presents Tiago with his knight's garment, and he gets a moment's flashing memory of the pain on his back at the sight of the leggings, all set out on a stand in the corner of his room. He stared at it curiously,

“Hey Joseph, do you think I can make adjustments before we go?” He asked,

Staring at the notably restricting parts of the chest armor,

“I’m sure we can. What are we changing?” Joseph asked curiously.

Hours went by as Tiago began altering the armor set. What was a knight full-plated armor chest was replaced with leather pockets that he would manually put metal plates in, as well as completely removing conjoining metal pieces at the joints in favor of loose-fitting fabrics to maximize mobility, resulting in a strange mesh of modern military gear and knights armor.

“Does this suit your style more?” Joseph asked as he removed the last plate from the back of the chest piece.

“This is exactly what I wanted,” He smirked, fitting on the gear and looking in the mirror. He flexed his forearms and stretched his body to get a feel for his new kit. It could use much more work, but it would do for now.

Tiago and Joseph walked out of his room and were greeted by his mother, with his father standing behind her, staring at the floor. His mother eyed Tiago up and down and smiled, holding her arms out for an embrace. Tiago smiled back and hugged her; she stepped out of the way as his father stepped forward toward him. He slowly looked up at Tiago, his face now hardly the violent man he remembered from before, and he truly was just an old warrior just like him.

“Listen, son, I-” He is interrupted as Tiago quickly steps forward, hugging his father, who, taken by surprise, begins tearing up, Hugging his son back.

After separating, his father choked down his tears.

“As I was saying, I hoped ya’ would join ye’ father in an upcomin’ event the city holds.”

Tiago titled his head curiously,

“What event?”

“The yearly sword competition, marked by the yearly harvest. It’s quite the sight.”

Tiago had never heard of such an event, and it could be the perfect environment for him to learn more about the combat capabilities in this new world, as he remembered his father merely slapping air that could have sent him straight through a nearby wall at least.

“Yeah, of course,” He nodded eagerly,

His father smiled and patted Tiago's shoulder,

“You may not forgive me now, but I’ll turn you into a fine swordsman.”

“What do you mean by that?” Tiago asked him,

“Well, you’ll have to participate in two years, obviously.”

This took him by surprise, and he’d only be ten years old by then; the world had higher expectations of youth than he had predicted.

“You’ll do fine. I never won, but you showed me last night you were ready,”

He opened his palm, and a white blade slowly formed into it. It was as long as a great-sword. He then knelt at Tiago's height and pointed to the blade.

“You used a similar skill last night, It’s called a mana sword.”

Tiago remembered he pushed the inward energy he felt when using the Ein Sof sword arts outside and manifested a small blade.

“It manifests as whatever blade you need at the time and is strong and sharp as one's will and mana strength.”

Tiago considered this vital information. This would significantly increase versatility across the board.

His father closed his palm over the hilt and opened it again, and the blade fragmented into nothingness. He stood back up strong, impressed with Tiago's reaction. His son's eyes filled with excitement, reminded him of his youth.

“We leave this afternoon, and your mother and Shilah have business in the city as well, so you’ll be in charge of protecting your sister while we are there.”

He then waved to Joseph, the butler, then walked past Tiago, and followed Tore into his office. His mother then put her hand on his shoulder and parted her lips,

“Make sure you’re ready by then. We will be gone for three days.”

“Sure thing, mom.”

She smiled at him gently and walked past to Tia's room.

Tiago had heard a lot about the city of Colgrad, but he had yet to visit. It would be nice to have some different scenery other than the small village the Manor occupied. With that, he walked downstairs towards the kitchen. He was absolutely starving.