I led the way into a clearing away from the shack. I picked the first exercise with the sole reason of getting Xodoven to blow off some steam. The infamous Grimspark's attitude was still just as terrible as when we first met and his disposition hadn't show any signs of improving.

  "You better keep your word. Don't leave anything out. I'll know if you hold back any secret techniques," Xodoven said.

  Little did he know, the training I had planned was nothing more than an experiment, testing a hypothesis regarding raw stat points. I braced myself, taking a defensive stance. "Then we'll begin."

  Xodoven raised an eyebrow. "If you suggest a simple spar... I don't know what I'm going to do to you."

  "We aren't sparring. Hit me," I said, tensing my abs in preparation for his attack.

  With no hesitation, Grimspark shot forward at an alarming speed. He wound back his left arm, but struck with a short right hook, nailing me in the nose. I tumbled backward, blood running down my face.

  I pushed myself off the ground and reset the broken bones with a painful squeeze. The taste of iron spread across my tongue as I hawked a crimson loogie at my feet.

  He's quick.

  "Again," I said as I activated Agility Burst.

  Xodoven attacked again, this time I read his feint and dodged a left hook, but his knee burst upward into my stomach.

  My world turned upside down as I dropped on the ground, gasping for air. Eyes watering, I stared up at the towering warrior. "I thought you were stronger," I wheezed.

  Xodoven showed no mercy as he punted me into a tree across the clearing. Struggling to my feet as he approached me, a sharp stabbing pain radiated up my sternum.

  Broken ribs...

  "The Hollow Demon wasted his efforts on someone this weak?" Xodoven snarled. "I can't believe it."

  I raised my arms, attempting to block his fists as he pummeled me into the dirt.

  Warning HP Level Critical

  "Enough," I choked out as his iron gauntlet met my skull.

  Stars danced in my eyes as I lay on the ground. Xodoven leaned over me, still throwing punches, showing no sign of stopping the assault.

  I rolled aside, avoiding a sabaton to my temple. Stomach tied in knots, I shoved myself off the ground. Agility Burst's effects ticked as I focused on reading Xodoven's moves.

  "You'll really kill me." I sidestepped his elbow and lunged at him, locking his shoulder out, finger's sinking into his pressure points.

  Grimspark violently rotated his body, loosening the grapple until he flung me at his feet. He rolled his shoulder back and shook his arm out. "Interesting joint-lock. Show me more techniques like that."

  It was a basic Ude Garami—an entangled arm-lock I had learned when I practiced Judo. I smiled, knowing I had plenty of martial art moves I could share if he didn't kill me first. "There's more where that came from, but first I must recover."

  I grabbed a potion from my combat supply satchel and drank the cool liquid. The healing potion alleviated the immediate pain in my torso and slowly mended my fractured ribs. There was one healing potion left in the satchel, but there were several more packed away in the cart, along with various other goodies the villagers in Waystone had given us. I rummaged through the overstuffed cart until I found a box filled with rations, pulled three out, and carried them inside. Xodoven followed close behind me, eyes sewn on my back.

  I tossed Viessa a ration, who wasted no time in opening it and diving into the cured meat and cheese.

  Xodoven tore through one ration and went back for seconds, while I chewed on a greasy mouthful of rabbit jerky—sore and frustrated by the lack of additional stat points.

  Was this exercise a waste of time? I couldn't afford to waste two days with nothing to show for it. I had already considered going back into Ingcaster for my mask and daggers, then wiping out the Black Diamond Mercenary Company. I wasn't more than a few thousand experience points from hitting level 8. Still, I doubted my ability to ditch Xodoven for that length of time.

  I finished off a serving of pickled carrots and set the empty container down, pain flaring up my side. My luck started turning around when Xodoven's stomach began rumbling with the clearance rations raging throughout his bowels.

  He took off his helmet, removed his chest plate, and clutched his belly.

  "Something wrong?" I asked.

  Perspiration broke-out across his forehead, as he pulled off his gauntlets and wiped his face with clammy hands. His arrogant, "I'm just too good looking" demeanor crumpled.

  "Which one did you eat?" I asked.

  Xodoven pointed at the perpetrator—an empty ration box. "I knew it tasted fishy."

  The label on the container clearly read: Ox Meat. "They were quite affordable," I admitted.

  His temper flared for a second before a wave of nausea up-ended it. "Don't go anywhere," he warned, stumbling out the door as he dry heaved.

  While the infamous Grimspark set out to battle diarrhea in the woods, I took a few steps across the room and sat down next to Viessa.

  "Can you use the same heal as you did last night?" I asked.

  "It's only a basic regeneration incantation."

  "I'll take what I can get," I said, still feeling the after-effects of the beat down.

  Viessa sat behind me and placed her gloved hands on my shoulders. "Who is that adventurer? He won't stop staring or talking."

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  "A temporary ally. Just keep ignoring him."

  "Strange you consider him an ally after he nearly killed you," Viessa said under her breath.

  "What can I say? Humans are complicated. For now, he's useful. How many times can you cast this spell in a day?"

  Warm energy spread out of her palms, running down my back and shoulders, further easing the pain. "Heaven's Touch doesn't take much mana. I could cast it ten or eleven times depending on the time between uses."

  "I'll need frequent healing until we leave. Waystone supplied us with some mana potions, too. Use them if necessary. They were quite thankful for your help."

  Finished with the spell, Viessa crossed her arms. "I only wanted to practice. Skills dull overtime when they're neglected. I'd never aid the humans otherwise."

  Sure... Says the softie that refuses to kill.

  I had to admit, being showered in praise by the villagers had felt nice. On Earth, society condemned me, but here it was different. Although, in many ways Gadika was downright barbaric, considering the rampant slavery and human trafficking, at least the public wasn't condemning my actions. I wondered if Waystone's people would still call me their savior if they knew of my escapades in Oarwin.

  Probably not.

  Viessa tapped my shoulder. "You can move now."

  Stretching as I stood up, I noticed an immediate improvement in my ribs. Her magic lingered, tingling throughout my body. Originally, I thought Viessa was an unfortunate obstacle. A problem that needed a solution. But if she improved her healing abilities, she could become an asset.

  "Gods have mercy!" Xodoven's suffering echoed through the forest.

  Serves him right.

  "Have you tried learning any advanced healing spells?"

  Viessa's shoulders sank. "Codices and spell scrolls are highly regulated in Onadell. From what I saw in the bookshop, the same can be said for Aclana. Unless noble blood runs through your veins, you'll rely on Galdir's favor."

  "God's favor, huh?" I chuckled, curious about how Justice felt about the Aclana region worshiping a different deity. "But if you had a spell scroll or manuscript, you're confident you could master it?"

  The elf cupped the back of her head and leaned back, staring up at the water-stained ceiling. "I did graduate at the top of my class."

  "How large was the class?"

  "There were six of us." Viessa clapped her hands together, reminiscing fondly. "But the high council hailed us as the most intelligent students in Onadell. Competition was fierce, and only a small number of people were allowed to apply. It was a place where only academics mattered. No bloodline or political favor influenced your admission. I achieved the number one ranking by merit alone."

  Was she really that smart? When we had first met she was a starving hostage lost on a foreign continent in inconceivable peril. Somewhere down the line she must have severely miscalculated to end up in such a situation. Now she was a well-fed hostage and still no closer to home. Despite the amount of time we'd spent together, I hardly knew anything about the elf. Keeping her at a distance had helped smother past memories, but maybe I had written off her usefulness.

  Obviously, I couldn't continue living in ignorance, relying on the system's advantages to steamroll everything in my path. "So, if you had a rare spell scroll..."

  "Then indeed, in time I could learn a new spell. The difficulty lies in how well the instructions are written. It could take days or years before a new spell can be used reliably."

  For me, the system had simplified everything with ability and mastery points, and nothing I had chosen required mana. Incantationless casting also seemed rare from what I had experienced, but to me it came as second nature. I wondered if everyone else unknowingly improved the mastery of their own spells through simple repeated use.

  "On a scale of 1 to 5, what level of mastery is your Heaven's Touch?" I asked.

  "One's talents cannot be measured with numbers," she said. "I have a good grasp on Heaven's Touch, though I'll never consider it mastered. It's more potent than it was three years ago, but improvements are incremental. Some of the most renowned mages dedicate their lives to evolving their spells."

  "Aside from Heaven's Touch, what other spells can you cast?" I asked.

  Viessa stifled a laugh and adjusted her oversized hood downward. "Your sudden interest is disturbing. I know more about the bandits that kidnapped me than I do about you, despite us speaking the same language."

  Had I really been that impersonal?

  "Just answer the question," I asked nicely.

  The elf crossed her arms and turned her head away. "I will, if you answer one of mine."

  Surprised by her defiance, I mulled it over, running some potential tough questions through my mind, preparing a fool-proof defense of impenetrable bullshit. "Go on."

  "Who was the person I reminded you of?"

  My heart sank along with my prepared strategy. The worst case scenario surfaced—a memory I wish had vanished. "Ask something else."

  "Cyprus, answer the question. If you're keeping my company because I resemble your dead wife..." She trailed off as her eyes narrowed. "It's creepy."

  "No, that's not it," I muttered.

  "I knew it," she said, turning away. "The only time I've ever seen you express any emotion was when you admitted I reminded you of someone. And now you've brought me to this isolated place and poisoned that hero with terrible intentions."

  I almost needed a shovel to pry my jaw off the floor. "Did you leave your mind back in Waystone? Xodoven, a hero? He poisoned himself by not checking the goddamn expiration date on the rations. And don't get me started on what you meant by terrible intentions."

  The anguish I had spent years suppressing resurfaced. "She was someone that went through hell with me. I made it out, and she didn't. That's it."

  "Her name?"

  I cleared my throat. "Enough."

  "You can't say it, can you?"

  Why does Viessa even remind me of her? They look nothing alike. Is it the elf's attitude?

  "Leave it alone. My only intentions are for you to start honing your magic like your life depends on it."

  Viessa tapped her foot, squeaking a loose wooden floor plank in an uneven rhythm. "I only have a basic mastery of Heaven's Touch. Without consistent practice, increasing its potency is hopeless. As for other spells, I can cast Illuminate, but so can most other mages."

  Relieved she let me off the hook, I gave her a thumbs up. "That's no issue. You'll get plenty of practice, I'll make sure of that."

  Maybe I'd incapacitate the next mercenary or assassin that tried me, and keep them in a perpetually injured state. It was probably the least I could do.

  ***

  After a rough 30 minutes in the woods, Xodoven recovered. I was waiting outside the shack as he appeared through the tree-line, pale and sweaty.

  "This is your fault. I should've dragged both of you back to the guild," Xodoven said.

  "Sounds like you're ready for round two."

  "You can't be serious. I almost killed you once already, and you swore to show me the Hollow Demon's training methods."

  Rather than waste time speaking, I lunged toward the tree line, fists raised. Catching him off guard, I struck him in his breastplate, barely shoving him back.

  "You dimwit." Xodoven's fist flashed through the air and connected with my temple.

  Dazed from the blow, with stars in my eyes, I threw myself backward, still too slow to avoid the follow-up strike that sent me to the ground.

  "A rogue like you should be faster," Xodoven shouted as he closed the gap, looking like he was about to punt me like a football.

  I activated Agility Burst and flipped off the ground, dodging his kick as I put a bit of distance between us.

  "You can't win."

  "Winning isn't the point."

  He jumped after me, launching a flurry of heavy punches. As my concentration reached its peak, I dove forward, finding the slightest of openings and grabbed Xodoven around the waist. I squared my hips and harnessed every ounce of my strength.

  He didn't budge.

  "Then tell me what we're doing here!" Xodoven unleashed his frustration by dropping a series of armored elbow strikes into my upper back.

  My grip loosened as he twisted his body and flung me against the trunk of a massive tree. Dizzy from a likely concussion, I lay on the ground, watching a flock of purple leaves twirl down from the lush canopy above.

  +1 Resilience

  Xodoven stomped over, but I stared past him at the floating text, smiling as blood dripped off my chin.

  "What's wrong with you?" Xodoven asked as he bent over and struck me in the face again.

  My skull reverberated from the gauntlet's blow; yet, this time, the harm seemed diminished. He wound back his arm, then stopped—as if he was suddenly taking pity.

  Gross.

  "What are you doing? Hit me again," I said, sitting back up as he walked past me.

  "You've sapped the fun out of beating you into a pulp."

  My legs wobbled beneath my weight as I rose from the ground. "We're not finished."

  "I'm taking a break. Go ram your head into a tree if you're so inclined."

  That's not a bad idea.