When I awoke in the morning, I was still in a good mood. Even Rabbit’s wake-up call didn’t bring me down. Twenty-four hours of relief from Jack’s mouth would do wonders for my mood.

  Jack was still asleep, and Rabbit gave me a great idea to wake him up. I moved right into his face and said, “Wake up, sleepy he…”

  Unexpectedly, he punched me in the face.

  Immediately, Rabbit started laughing. After some blinding pain, lying on the floor, I decided it was funnier than it was painful, and I started laughing too.

  This woke everyone up, and Jack was blazing mad. Since he couldn’t complain, he started pacing around the camp, fuming mad, kicking things. Kaylie began to laugh, and when Sana couldn’t resist any longer, she burst out laughing too.

  After some time, Jack calmed down and flashed a maddening smile. He then asked, “Are you ready to train?”

  “Uh-oh,” I said audibly.

  “I’m going to teach you the same lesson my dad taught me on my fifteenth birthday,” he said before walking away.

  “I don’t need lessons in kissing!” I yelled after him. I knew I was going to pay dividends for that comment, but it gave everyone else a reason to laugh again. This morning was still going my way.

  “Before you go, can I check over the papers you received from the Black Rock Islands?” Sana asked, shifting the mood slightly. I pulled the documents out of the bag. I had collected some from the island itself and from the ship we had stolen. I had planned to look through them, but as I wasn’t going back there anytime soon, I had relegated that priority to the bottom of my list. If Sana wanted to look through them, it could save me some time.

  After thirty minutes, he returned, still smiling widely. We were all eating when he came back, and I offered him some oatmeal. “Sure, I can eat it while you are training,” he replied, his tone light.

  That sounded ominous, but I finished my portion and followed him out of the alcove. My only real hope was that Kaylie and Sana would save me at some point from what Jack had planned.

  We didn’t move far from where we had been. A deep, swift-moving stream ran between us and the others. The rocks beneath it were slick and unsteady, which made crossing time-consuming because we had to backtrack to do it safely. If we screamed, they would hear us easily enough, but reaching us quickly would mean rushing through the water and risking being swept away.

  When we arrived, we were surrounded by trees on all sides. The dense forest seemed to stretch endlessly in every direction. The bark of the trees was rough and gnarled, with deep ridges and crevices that had been formed over decades of growth. Moss and lichen grew in patches on the trunks. This area was home to many old trees.

  Jack spoke, “Remember how I said that in my childhood, I was taught skills, and later, I was physically trained?” This must have been a rhetorical question because he did not pause, and he wasn’t looking at me either. “By my thirteenth year, they started training my body along with continuing my skill progression. On my fifteenth birthday, my father decided to see if I was ready for true training. He told me what I am going to tell you. ‘If you can make it through today, you will have earned what our family is famous for.’”

  Jack paused and looked at me. He knew the question anyone would ask. “What is your family famous for?”

  “That, you’ll either have to earn today or not,” Jack said with a smile. “Okay, catch.” With that, he threw me one of his axes.

  It was surprisingly heavy, even for my enhanced strength. I’d guess that made sense in a world where people’s muscles were augmented to have heavier weapons, so opponents could not just knock them out of the way or stop them. Although I figured that speed would have the upper hand compared to strength. But then again, each person had their flavor of favorites, and strength had never been mine.

  He then turned to a tree and placed his hands on its trunk. “Your job is to chop this tree down while only cutting vertically.”

  I looked at it. While it was no bigger or smaller than the others around, it was still no tiny tree. Its trunk was so broad that if all four of us stood with our arms outstretched, we wouldn’t be able to wrap our arms around it. The height wasn’t as daunting as it was only around 30 feet.

  “I’m sorry. I’m confused. How am I supposed to chop down a tree by cutting it vertically?” I asked.

  “One stroke at a time,” Jack replied. He waved his hands over to the tree and backed away, waiting for me to swing.

  Rabbit broke in, saying, “You heard him. Work that wood one stroke at a time.”

  I ignored his antics.

  Hoping that Jack’s ax had magic of some sort, I mustered my strength, stepped forward, and swung with all my might. The ax was not some magical item that could cut a tree in half because all it did was what was expected. It drove deep into the wood, reaching the blade on the other side of the weapon. I looked at Jack, but he just stared at me and said nothing.

  When the ax refused to come loose, I recalled Jack’s previous advice, placing my foot against the tree for leverage. That didn’t work, so I escalated to using both feet, sacrificing stability in the process. My attempts grew more desperate as I climbed higher on the trunk, seeking a better angle. Finally, horizontal and pushing against the tree with both feet, the ax came free, and so did I, crashing to the ground.

  I landed awkwardly among the roots, my hand striking the ground hard in an attempt to cushion the fall. The uneven terrain meant my hand landed wrong. One finger caught a root, bending unnaturally. The result was a broken finger and a sprained wrist. Meanwhile, the ax I clung to in my other hand slashed my leg, a wound that, while painful, paled in comparison to the damage to my hand. Lying there, groaning in pain, Jack’s laughter echoed around me, adding insult to injury.

  “You’re supposed to be nice to me, or did you forget already?” I spat venomously at Jack. “Remember yesterday’s deal?”

  He took a break in between chuckles to reply. “No, I wasn’t supposed to be nice. I was not supposed to make fun of you. Trust me, I have very colorful things to say, but I won’t at the moment. You can continue.” Jack gestured to the tree.

  “I can’t. I think I broke my wrist and at least one finger.” I held up the hand with a finger that was bent completely backward and hanging a little limply.

  The pain was intense, but I managed to straighten my finger, aligning it with its neighbor before bracing myself for the next step. Reaching into my magical pouch with the notion of finding some gauze, it materialized in my good hand. I carefully wrapped my injured finger alongside the one next to it, hoping to stabilize the break. I couldn’t help but wish for more sophisticated medical supplies. Aboard the ship with the Dwya, their reliance on magical potions meant that basic items like gauze and a needle with thread were the extent of their medical kit. I had taken these supplies partly because the Dwya seemed to consider everything on the ship as already mine, and partly because they had their own healers to rely on.

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  “So, are you giving up on training?”

  “Can you give me 15 or 20 minutes to recover? And I’ll be right as rain.”

  “That whole sentence didn’t make any sense, but either you continue, or you don’t,” he said frankly.

  Reflecting on my words, I realized my mistake. They didn’t measure time in minutes here, a concept I forgot wasn’t universal. People here gauged time by the sun’s position or by days, not by the minutes and hours I was accustomed to. Even I found the phrase “right as rain” odd, so it was no wonder it was lost on him.

  The question I had to ask myself was, did I still want to keep going? I felt like the day was going to continue this way. I would be hurt, and he wouldn’t care. He wouldn’t teach me anything, but he would keep telling me to chop down the tree. I didn’t feel like doing this all day. However, I did make a promise to myself yesterday to get stronger. If Jack did have some important family secrets to pass on to me, I would have to earn them in his eyes, and I was sure it would only be gained through pain.

  After that, I decided I was going to show Jack what I was made of once and for all. After today, he wouldn’t laugh at me anymore, because he would know that while I didn’t have a skill, I had an unbreakable will. I grabbed the ax and lifted it above my head. Upon seeing my perseverance, Jack stopped chuckling. I curled all my fingers around the weapon and chopped down. The pain coursed through my sprained wrist and my broken finger. I didn’t slam it as hard as last time so that it wouldn’t get stuck.

  I had estimated that the few minor wounds would heal in about five minutes, but I was sorely mistaken. Every time I swung the ax, I caused further injury to my wrist and finger. While the cut on my leg sealed up within minutes, it took a torturous twenty minutes for the throbbing in my wrist and finger to subside. My arms grew heavy as lead, prompting me to pause for a brief moment to remove my bandage.

  Setting the ax down, I noticed Jack glancing over at me. He had only recently begun his meal. For a short time, Jack seemed to find amusement in my discomfort, but his interest quickly waned, and he turned his attention to eating. Curious, he paused to observe as I held up my now healed and unbandaged finger for him to see.

  “Yep, it’s healed nicely. Can you see it?” I asked, playfully waving my middle finger at him and offering a grin. Thankfully, gestures here didn’t hold the same meanings, giving me the subtle pleasure of a private joke. After all, it was the little moments that truly made life worthwhile.

  I replaced the bandage in my bag and resumed practicing on the tree. There was no way I could chop this thing down vertically, but I was making some progress. Still, even if I managed to cut straight through one spot, the tree would probably hold together. The whole thing felt pointless, and I was pretty sure Jack was just wasting my time.

  So I turned off my time spell. It made me one percent slower. But if he was going to waste my time, I was going to waste more of his.

  After about 30 more minutes of torturing myself, my stamina was replenishing more slowly. Despite that, I wasn’t going to give in. I would lift the ax, slam it into the tree with barely enough force to make it move, pull it out, and then pant for 20 seconds before repeating the exercise. It was getting more and more difficult, and the breaks were becoming longer. I felt utterly drained, my body slow to recover and aching all over.

  Whenever I took long breaks between minutes from chopping the tree, Jack would demand, “Are you quitting?”

  Those little comments gave me the strength to lift the ax and hit the tree one more time. This relentless effort continued until every muscle in my body screamed in protest. The fatigue was crippling. I was so weakened that even the slightest push could have knocked me down for good. My muscles, especially in my arms, shoulders, and back, were aflame with pain. The repeated force of swinging the ax had left my joints throbbing and my limbs trembling. It felt as if every fiber was stretched to its limit, and my entire body was a map of aching, overworked muscle groups.

  I tried telling Jack, but I couldn’t speak. It was as though my mouth had sand in it. No, more like my tongue was sandpaper, and my throat was one open wound. I tried swallowing, but it hurt. It looked as though it was past midday, so it hadn’t been that long since I drank something, but after all of this exertion, I seemed to have drained myself in every way.

  After painfully swallowing, I uttered in a pained voice, “Can’t li…” I coughed for a little bit. “Need a break.” I then coughed some more.

  He moved closer to me and looked me directly in my eyes, challenging, “Are you giving up?”

  I couldn’t believe his audacity. I felt as if I were at death’s door, so weak that the smallest creature could be a threat. I could not lift the ax because it was physically impossible, and he wanted me to tell him I was giving up. My disdain for Jack deepened. This entire ordeal seemed designed to humiliate me. It was his way of compensating for not being able to mock me directly. He pushed me to my limits, hoping to see me break.

  Well, screw Jack. I wasn’t going to give up. If the ax didn’t lift and he wanted to stare at me the rest of the day, incapable of moving, he could. I was going to give it my all to show him that I wouldn’t give up, even if I couldn’t do anything. He would have to tell me he was sorry to get me to stop trying.

  With sheer force of will, I reached for the ax again, but my muscles barely responded. Jack’s eyes followed the feeble movement, the ax dragging on the ground as if held by a child.

  I summoned all my strength for another attempt, pushing against the overwhelming exhaustion. The ax moved just slightly, barely inching forward again. This time, it felt like fire moving through my muscles.

  “I see you can’t get it up?” Jack said, smarmily.

  He wasn’t supposed to be insulting me since that would be against his promise, but the fact was that I literally couldn’t get the ax off the ground.

  I channeled every ounce of my energy, desperate to lift the ax so that he couldn’t make those comments anymore and get away with it. I strained my will through my body with all of my might. It was like trying to suck a bowling ball through a straw. It was a fruitless exercise, and you could push as hard as you wanted, but it wasn’t going anywhere.

  Glaring into his smug face, I fueled my annoyance into strength, pushing through the pain with all my might. My sole focus was to lift that ax from the ground. I strained and heaved, and finally, with a grating scrape against the dirt, the ax lifted. I was sweaty and surprised by my success, yet immensely satisfied. I managed to hold the weapon aloft for just a moment before it dropped back to the ground. This time, it wasn’t just exhaustion that overcame me, but the sheer pain rippling through my muscles. It wasn’t a remarkable feat, but it was a personal victory, and I was incredibly proud.

  Jack immediately decided to destroy all my happy feelings. “I said up. Even if that is off the ground, it is still not up. Can you get it up?”

  My body was in pain, and I had given my all for that little miracle. There was no way to lift the ax more than that. It was impossible. My arms and my shoulders felt like they had been dipped in acid, and I didn’t have an ounce of stamina. However, he was still looking at me like the dick that he was. I wanted to bury this ax in his face and stand over him and ask if he had given up.

  But instead, I focused on finding that sliver of willpower that had allowed me to lift the ax moments before. Gripping the handle tightly, I attempted another lift. Initially, the ax barely moved, stubbornly hovering just an inch above the ground. Instead of doing it in heaving motions, trying to pull it up with a burst of might, I just put my effort into it in one steady strain of power. Slowly, I was able to lift the ax off the ground. After about a second, my arms were on fire. I could feel the pain run up my shoulders and down my back.

  “Can you keep it up?” Jack asked, and I was determined never to let it fall, no matter how unlikely.

  I didn’t stop my effort. I passed the one-second mark and then the two-second mark. Before I knew it, five seconds had passed, and the ax was still up. I looked at Jack, expecting him to be in awe.

  “Is that all?” he taunted, much to my dismay.

  With every ounce of strength left in me, I continued to pour my effort into holding the ax aloft. The continuous pain was almost unbearable, and every instinct screamed for a break, but I was determined to push through. Digging deep for that last reserve of will, I managed to hoist the ax even higher. Gradually, it ascended until it was at least three inches above the ground, a testament to my resolve in the face of excruciating discomfort.

  As the intense burning in my muscles persisted, the effort paradoxically began to feel more manageable. Perhaps my body was adapting to the strain, or adrenaline was dulling the pain. Encouraged, I pushed harder, and the ax started to rise more smoothly. I lifted it gradually, navigating through the sharp stabs of pain.

  Eventually, I got the ax to a level position and then raised it above my head. At this point, some of the pain was relieved, while it spread. I expected Jack to say something, but he remained silent. He just looked at me, then the tree, and raised his eyebrows.

  I relented to his unspoken challenge. Shifting my weight forward, I mustered all the strength I had left and swung the ax toward the tree. The impact was anticlimactic, more a testament to my exhaustion than a display of skill, as I was barely able to keep myself upright. The ax hit the tree with a dull thud, barely slicing into the bark. It was a stark reflection of how drained I felt, struggling to remain standing.

  “Let’s do it again,” Jack said.