I had a general principle in regards to violence, that being that holding back was a disrespect to both your opponent and yourself, and only in the exertion of your full capacity could you claim a duel. A fancy string of syllables to describe how I’m more than willing to beat the shit out of children. But it’s fine! I was doing them a favour really, every fight lost is more combat experience, and everyone needed that come armageddon. Jiso was the only one in the village who understood my grand purpose, although he didn’t believe in my prophecy. Meant he was the one I beat the shit out of the most!

  A shift in my stance, one leg forward after an acceptable parry, bringing down a blade of wood unto the boy’s head. The language of the World was vague in moments of spontaneous action, and I wasn’t nearly attuned enough to use it during combat, but I felt like it approved of the strike. Jiso barely parried the blow, pushed back by my advance. I followed up with a horizontal slash that almost collided with Jiso’s side, but he parried at the last second and slid the wood of his blade against mine. I backed away just before it would’ve hit my hand.

  Jiso took a step back and centred his blade to take advantage of his reach. He was just a bit taller than me, and his arms were predictably longer, but that was just an obstacle to overcome. I stepped forward and went for a quick jab that he slapped aside, we exchanged a few more light strikes, probing in their intentions.

  Then I hit his practice sword with almost enough force to knock it out of his hands. There were perks to being a blacksmiths apprentice. In the opening I received, I brought the blade up from a low stance and struck the boy’s chin.

  His head snapped to the sky and he stumbled back.

  Then a man with a trimmed goatee got between us, he was wearing peasant garb just like the both of us, but the way in which he carried himself almost seemed to enhance the visual flair. His arms were crossed as he glared at the both of us.

  “Another win for Yir,” Isidro said. “From where I’m standing it’s starting to look like you’re taking it easy on the cute elf, boy.”

  Jiso reoriented himself from his daze, blushing furiously and shaking his head. “No master! I’d never. She’s just gotten…better.”

  “Likely story.” Isidro grunted.

  I shouldered my training sword casually and raised a brow at Jiso. “Thanks, but I’m not interested,” I said. “Going to take me seriously now?”

  “I’ve been taking you seriously,” the boy whined.

  “Then why do you suck ass all of a sudden?” I said.

  Isidro pointed to me like I’d made a marvellous point. Jiso sputtered and let out his excuses, some variation of being tired, but I knew that was bullshit. The boy didn’t have shit to do as the elder’s son. The only exercise he got was from our training with the wayward soldier. If anything, he should've had the advantage considering my daily smithing. Bringing up as much shut him up good, leaving him to turn red and face the ground.

  “Enough. Both of you are done for the day, you’re wasting my time if you aren’t giving it your all,” Isidro said.

  “That’s bullshit!” I said. “Jiso’s the only one being a shit, I’m giving it my all like I always do.”

  “Jiso’s also the only one I have any obligation to train,” Isidro pointed out.

  My mouth clacked shut and I let out a grumble, but he wasn’t wrong. Isidro gave a nod and headed off to the village. Jiso gave me a nervous look but I just glared at the boy, signaling with ocular intent that I didn’t care for his presence at the moment. He took the hint and left as well, leaving me alone in an empty field with a wooden sword in my grip. I squeezed the handle, then got into a stance, and started venting my frustration in a series of swings.

  I went slow enough to communicate with the blade before each swing, just so I’d get an idea of how to do it right. The demon didn’t even interrupt, seemingly content with my simmering frustration.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  I stayed there for a while and…started to experiment.

  Before each swing, I opened sections of my circulation to let mana out into my body, holding it there with will alone, and then infusing my body with the energy—

  A wave of ecstasy washed over me, and with crystal clarity, I swung a strike that was marginally faster than my regular ones. I didn’t give any intent to the mana, just infused my body with it, I didn’t know what kind of funky shit could happen if I started getting specific. Better to limit myself to a general boost and mending fatigue.

  I did that for a while, and with each infusion my body felt just a bit heavier, my gut a bit weaker, and my mind just a bit more scattered. It was a side effect of using mana, some kind of sickness. Magical limits weren’t dictated by how much mana a person had, but by how much their body could handle.

  I’d experiment to test my limits later, it’d only been a few days after all.

  I let out a grunt as my body started to feel like it was nearing the edge, I looked up to the sun and guesstimates that I’d spent perhaps an hour. You get good at that shit when there wasn’t a clock conveniently informing whoever had eyes of the time. I shrugged and headed back to the village proper, passing by a few other fools and exchanging pleasantries.

  Gossip was one of the few activities that entertained the adult population, and I wasn't free of it just because I was a child. It would’ve been rude to ignore them after all.

  Not that I normally had a problem with being rude.

  Apparently Gillian found a goblin on his farm, it was the talk of the village in fact. People speculated about the need for a runner to fetch the army, but there was only one. Could’ve just been a fluke. I let it burn in the back of my mind for a bit, but didn’t let it take up much space. Eventually, I made it to the Bakers house and knocked on their door. There was a bit of scrambling before someone came to swing it open.

  That someone being a girl of short stature, curly black hair acting as a crown to a thin face. Her eyes were a verdant green and filled with an emotion that screamed curiosity. She gave me a wide smile filled with teeth, a few of them crooked.

  “Yir!” Terra said. “Hello hello! How was the training? Did you hear a goblin attacked one of the farmers? Have you seen Uria? I need to deliver some bread to her family. Would you like some bread?”

  I smiled back to the energetic gremlin and ruffled her hair. “Shit. Yes. No. And that’s why I’m here.”

  “Great!” Terra took off into the house. “Mom! Yir’s here to buy some bread.”

  “Second basket sweetheart, don’t take anything less than a silver penny,” I heard Rea say in the distance.

  “You know I heard that, right?” I chuckled.

  “Even better, gets past the bullshit haggling,” Rea grunted from wherever she was in the home. Theirs was just a bit bigger considering their profession. Not as big as my home, and certainly didn’t match anything from my old world, but bigger than most in the village.

  Terra came back skipping with a small basket filled with bread in her arms. “You heard mama!” Terra chirped. “One silver please.”

  “Robbing me blind,” I grumbled with a smile, but I took out a silver penny and handed it to the girl all the same. “Get something nice for yourself at the weavers, yeah?”

  Terra smiled and handed the basket, I grabbed it and headed on home. The…whatever effect mana had on my body had started to subside, so I’d started to boost it in small portions. Impotent, but maybe that was how I increased my reserves? Or tolerance?

  Who knows, the game was all about levels and shit, which didn’t exist here, so I was working on blind hope.

  Mages had to get better somehow after all, and there were plenty of archmages in the empire that could rival my old world’s artillery. Though not in quantity, and by plenty I meant a few dozen. Still, a dozen missile launchers was better than none, and the empire’s military might depended more on their mundane soldiers.

  I think.

  It wasn’t like I’d spoken to anyone actually knowledgeable on the matter. Well, except for Isidro, but he was biased.

  I walked into my home and spotted my mother in the back, boiling some stew for dinner. I walked up next to Asna with the basket of bread.

  “Suprise,” I said.

  Asna turned to look at me with a raised brow, fiery red eyes examining her daughter's form before flicking her eyes to the bread. “Training went poorly?”

  “I’ll never get used to how you can do that so casually.” I shivered.

  “Converse with the World for long enough and you’ll learn just as I have,” Asna said.

  “Sounds like a pain in the ass.”

  “Accurate,” Asna shrugged. “But it’s also quite useful for figuring out someone's intentions, or in the act of making a good stew.”

  “The best stew.” I nodded.

  “You’ve yet to taste the wonders of a true chef, wait a few short decades and you’ll have the opportunity.”

  “So, you’ve lived long enough for a decade to seem short?” I hedged.

  “Nice try, go tend to some iron while I cook, your father would appreciate the help.”

  I sighed. “Alright.”