My peace was shattered while I slept. His smug face and mocking laughter hurt my ears and toyed with my patience. I spent entire hours tossing and turning on the straw mattress, hours in which I sweated like a pig in summer. At some point, just when I thought I would finally find rest, my phone rang like a bomb and reminded me of one of the many responsibilities I had to fulfill. Today will definitely be my last day working as a walking alarm clock.

  Even though I was excited to find out how the powers I had recently discovered would work, all I brought home was disappointment, a bad memory, and an attempted murder. I can only hope today is different, but as long as that woman doesn’t ask me to drink anything strange, I think I’ll be fine.

  Every eyelash on my eyelids feels as heavy as lead bars, making it difficult to keep both eyes open. I want to go back to bed and sleep until tomorrow.

  Tonight is lonely, like so many others. My breath freezes in the air and the hairs on my arms stand on end as the cold slips through the thin fabric of my shirt. Maybe it’s a good idea to start saving for a coat, or at least a jacket. We still had several clients left to wake up, so my torture would continue for a good while longer.

  “Is it true? Are you a Laerim? Show me!”

  To keep from falling asleep while walking, I tell Nick about my new abilities—and maybe show off a little too.

  “What exactly do you want me to show you?” I shrug.

  Nick looks around, searching for something. I don’t understand what he’s doing, so I just stand there, patient and fighting to keep my eyelids apart.

  After a while he finds a large, irregularly shaped object whose surface is covered in dirt and dust. When he hands it to me, he asks me to crush it between my hands, claiming that a Laerim is known for extraordinary strength in addition to controlling a special kind of magic.

  I hesitate because I’m not sure I can do it. Rya really didn’t teach me anything about what I’m supposed to be capable of. But if I had enough strength to overpower her for a few moments and almost strangle her—even if I want to forget that—then I don’t see how a simple rock could give me trouble.

  “Fine, I’ll see what I can do.” I huff, determined.

  I place my palms on each end of the stone, take a deep breath, and adjust my stance. I stare at the object for a few seconds before pressing hard. With every passing second the air escapes my lungs and my arms begin to tremble. I stop to catch my breath.

  The rock remains intact. No cracks, no clear sign that I’m achieving anything. The only thing I’m managing is cramped hands and dirt under my nails.

  Nick watches me in silence, a smirk drawn across his mouth. I can only lower my gaze in shame.

  Fuck… what’s wrong with me? I curse internally.

  I don’t understand why I can’t break it. She said I’d be able to, didn’t she? But it’s impossible and I’m getting desperate. I clench my teeth until it hurts. A memory forces its way into my head. Laughter. A voice that has been with me since I woke up. This time I squeeze harder.

  Before I realize it, the rock gives way with a sudden crack—chunks fly outward and dust fills my mouth.

  “Awesome!” Nick shouts with extreme excitement.

  We accidentally wake up a lot of people. Dogs start barking furiously and the place fills with residents cursing us for interrupting their sleep. We have no choice but to leave before things get worse.

  Thanks to my demonstration, we “speed up” our work. We walk toward the meeting point, but we take our time. I also take the opportunity to tell him that I found a teacher and that I’ll soon join the guild’s ranks. Plus, this would be my last night working by his side. Nick can only congratulate me on what’s happened and wish me luck.

  To my surprise, this would also be his last week working here. Even though he hadn’t saved as much as he wanted, he’s tired of waking up early and earning so little—not just here, but also as a shop assistant.

  Rumors had reached his ears about some kind of “community caravan” heading to the royal capital. After a bit of investigation, he learned that some men would be heading to the territory’s mines to work. Nick was tempted by the idea, so he’ll travel with them to try his luck.

  Once our paths seem set, we say goodbye in the plaza with a firm handshake, wishing each other the best.

  Working as a hunter will take you to different parts of the world—if I ever set foot on royal soil, I plan to visit him.

  “Soon my luck will come,” I sing to myself. “I know that before I die, my luck will surely change.”

  The streets fill with passersby and carts. As I walk, a woman in a red dress and white hood approaches from the front. When she passes beside me I can’t ignore the sweet aroma coming from the basket she carries in her arms. Starving, I check her goods. I manage to get some bread and fresh cheese for breakfast.

  I’d love to pair this with a cup of coffee, but hunger wins.

  When I cross the decorated wooden door, Eleanor is setting up the place for opening. From the other side I can already smell one of today’s dishes: fried fish and mashed potatoes.

  “Good morning…” Covering part of my face with my hand, I open my mouth wide in a yawn.

  Our greeting is brief and soon I’m helping her clean. Every so often I rub my eyes to ease the fatigue. At some points they water from the constant rubbing. The weather is cool and the cloudy sky creates the perfect atmosphere for peaceful sleep. My mood is almost at rock bottom.

  I go to the courtyard to draw water from the well and wash my face. When I return to the dining room, my boss and Eleanor are chatting. They invite me over when they see me.

  “By the way, Ethan, how did it go yesterday with Rya? Did she teach you how to use your powers?”

  I swallow hard and make my brain work. I can’t tell her I almost killed her friend by accident—she’d hate me from here to the afterlife. I ramble in my answer, but it doesn’t seem to convince her. Eugine clearly thinks something happened.

  “So she didn’t teach you anything?” she asks.

  “It’s not that.” I shake my head. “She did teach me… to break rocks with my hands. It was surprising to find out I have so much strength now.”

  We stop the conversation so we don’t delay work any further. This time the tavern isn’t as packed as usual, so I’m enormously grateful for the lack of customers.

  The sun is at its highest and our break is just around the corner. Excited to recharge energy and fill my stomach, I serve my last customer before heading to a corner to eat lunch.

  “Good afternoon. What are you going to order?”

  “Oh, young man! How have you been?”

  A short, broad-shouldered man greets me warmly. Nearby, at the same table, two of his companions do the same.

  “Do you remember us, lad?” asks another, thin with long hair.

  I look at their faces. Even though I don’t know their names, I know who they are. Two of them look rough, as if someone or something had rolled them in the dirt for a good while—except for the skinny one, whose light armor is barely stained with dust.

  “Ah, yes, yes. I remember now.”

  “Do you know our names?” the short one asks.

  “No…” I shrug and give a forced smile.

  The short man puffs out his chest and announces his name with pride and force: Rafhall. The thin, friendly-faced one: Radorr. And the other, whose gaze seems to have witnessed the worst of humanity: Frigs. To me it feels like they’ve rehearsed this introduction for moments just like this.

  I take their order and make two trips to serve their food. The table surface is covered with large beer mugs and plates holding chunks of meat the size of my hand—or larger. There’s barely room to move. Such a feast sits before my eyes and I can’t help but feel a twinge of envy.

  “Are you celebrating something?”

  “Victory, lad! We’re celebrating our victory!” Rafhall bellows emphatically. “We earned a nice pile of silver for the job.”

  “And we would’ve earned more if someone hadn’t smashed those basilisk eggs,” Frigs adds with mild irritation.

  “Calm down. No need to get upset over something that’s already done,” Radorr says while grabbing some meat.

  Rafhall and Frigs argue briefly. Before the situation escalates, I intervene and ask for an explanation. The short man recounts—with tremendous enthusiasm—what happened on their last mission. Their group was tasked with clearing out a basilisk nest near some ruins located who-knows-where. Frigs’s complaint stems from their leader’s lack of care when handling the eggs, which broke in his hands.

  The bad atmosphere between the two fades after several mugs of beer and plenty of meat consumed. If I didn’t know them only recently, I’d think they’ve always gotten along.

  “Lad, celebrate with us. Come on!” the short man says, shoving a beer mug right in front of my face.

  “I can’t. I’m working.”

  Oh, protect me now, Almighty God. My values are being tested by the devil disguised as my friend. I can’t give in to temptation—mainly because I’d get in trouble with my boss.

  Rafhall keeps insisting for a good while. I can’t find an excuse to leave—or maybe I don’t even want to find one. I look around to see if there are any witnesses watching me.

  I don’t see her… She must be in the kitchen, I think to myself.

  The devil keeps tempting me and, unfortunately, even though God gave me strength to resist at first, I end up losing this battle against evil. He would be very disappointed.

  “Alright… just a little.”

  The cold in my body vanishes like dust in fog. This elixir restores my energy and makes me forget my sorrows—at least for a while.

  “By the way, how hard is it to get into the guild?”

  “Why do you ask?” Rafhall replies while chewing.

  “Curiosity.”

  I’m open to hearing any advice that might be useful in the future—if everything goes well, not too distant a future. Especially from someone as seasoned in the job as he is.

  “I don’t actually know right now, lad. In my day you just had to prove your strength and be clever enough not to die when you went out to kill monsters. When I joined the guild, your mother probably hadn’t even been born yet.” He laughs.

  I don’t know how to process that answer. Is he old? But he looks like a man no older than forty. Though in a world with hellish monsters and me having special powers, I wouldn’t be surprised if his words were true.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  Radorr and Frigs are too drunk to answer my question coherently. The only thing they manage to say is that you need to pass some exams to be accepted. I suppose Rya will know more, but something tells me she’d get annoyed if I asked her that when I haven’t even formally started training.

  “By the way, what’s with the apron?” the short man asks while his head sways. “Were you jealous of your coworker and decided to buy one too?”

  As funny as ever.

  “No. This apron is my uniform,” I clarify.

  “What? Weren’t you already working here the day we came?”

  “Not technically…” I shrug. “I was on a trial period. I only got officially hired recently.”

  Rafhall claps and shouts with energy. He soon encourages his companions to toast in my name.

  “Congratulations, son!” he exclaims. His back slaps start to hurt. “Let’s celebrate!”

  I’m tempted again and unfortunately I don’t resist. However, before I can get as drunk as them, the group signals me to look over my shoulder. With my vision slightly blurred by alcohol, I see Eleanor exchanging words with a very insistent man. When I notice distress on her face, I leave the table without saying goodbye.

  Continuing his harassment, the man uses cheesy pickup lines straight out of a terrible manual and then grabs Eleanor’s hand with fake gentleness. As I approach, I place myself between them, turning my back to my coworker and facing the guy.

  A scent of perfume I can’t identify invades my nose. It’s hard to hide my disgust at smelling such a stench that turns my stomach. The buttons on his eccentric red coat shine like drops of gold. When I ask for an explanation, Eleanor clarifies that this guy intercepted her while she was working and, without giving her a chance to speak, started demanding a date.

  I take a deep breath and try to talk to him, demanding that he leave my coworker alone or, failing that, leave the restaurant.

  “Silence. How dare you tell me what to do?” he spits, frowning and hiding his hands behind his back. “Don’t you know who I am?” He puffs out his chest, as if he wants me to admire him.

  I don’t give a damn who you are… I curse internally.

  We continue arguing. My alcohol breath fills the air as words come out of my mouth. Soon he threatens me, saying he’ll report me to my boss if I don’t apologize for interfering. This is going too far, and I’m terrified that Eugine will find out I drank on the job. The only option is to get him out of here without making things worse.

  “Hey, you’d better leave.” Touching his shoulder, I push him slightly aside.

  “Don’t touch me!” He slaps my hand away. “Not only do you dare give me orders, you don’t even look away from me. Has no one taught you manners?” he says as if speaking to a servant.

  That arrogant attitude is making my patience hang by a thread. Does he think he owns the place? The customers’ faces show concern or nervousness, and I don’t know why. In my ears, Eleanor whispers for me to watch my tone.

  All this seems strange to me.

  “Listen, I don’t want trouble.” Raising my arm, I point to the exit.

  I decide to follow my coworker’s advice, but my polite warning is ignored. Am I speaking Chinese, or why doesn’t this guy understand me? The dispute escalates. He starts poking my chest hard with his index finger. His insults and offenses don’t stop.

  Tired of his aggression, I grab his forearm and—without meaning to—crush it with force. He falls to the floor screaming in pain. Fearing I broke something, I try to help him.

  “Are you okay?!” I bend down toward him. “Hey!”

  While he writhes on the stone floor, I carefully examine his limb. My suspicions are correct and my face pales when I see his arm is slightly swollen and rigid.

  He violently rejects me when I try to do anything.

  “You bastard, you’ll see!” Getting to his feet with difficulty, the guy leaves the tavern.

  I don’t know how to react. For a few moments I felt as though his bones stopped being solid and, wrapped in my fist, were more like plastic bottles.

  This is worrying. I need to learn to control this strength—not just for my ambition to join the guild, but because it could be a real danger to people. It’s strange that ever since I discovered my power, it now feels completely out of control.

  ?──────────────────???──────────────────?

  The commotion this afternoon didn’t go unnoticed. Eugine scolded me for resolving the dispute with violence, but at the same time praised me for protecting Eleanor. He also kindly reminded me that I shouldn’t drink during work hours—even if a customer offers. This time, thanks to me handling that jerk, my boss won’t dock my pay for the day.

  As usual, Rya visited once the business closed, but our group chat didn’t last as long as previous days because the redhead has a responsibility toward me. While we walk away from the stables toward the hill, she comments that she’s now motivated to train me—partly because she might learn something new, and mainly to break the routine.

  “Careful where you touch…” she whispers.

  “Oops, sorry.” I move my hands up to her shoulders. “Has anyone ever told you you have a great figure?”

  “Yes, they have.”

  With her hair waving in the wind, a heady fragrance reaches my nose. The sky is clear, snow-capped mountains decorate the horizon, and the breeze blowing over us has a pleasant temperature.

  “Okay, what are we doing?” I ask while stretching my limbs.

  After securing Isabela, she takes a couple of objects from the mare’s back and walks toward me with a playful smile that confuses me. She hands me a weapon with an iron blade lacking an edge and a wooden handle—but it slips from my hands and falls to the ground. Why does something only slightly larger than a baseball bat weigh so much?

  “Ready?” she asks with enthusiasm.

  “Ready for what?” I reply while trying to pick up the sword.

  “Starting today you’re going to learn how to control your strength.” She points at me with her index finger. “I want you to be aware of when to use it and how to use it. Because if you don’t, you could hurt someone by accident.”

  I remember what happened this afternoon. I don’t think I’ll easily forget how terrifying it was to break that man’s arm with minimal effort. It will be necessary to learn how to hold back in moments like that.

  “Okay, what do I have to do?” I nod.

  “First listen and watch what I’m going to do.”

  Spreading her legs slightly and adjusting her stance, Rya swings the weapon with impressive agility. Once the blade is above her head, the space around her seems to distort in a tiny area; a cloud of dust swirls around her legs and the grass dances beneath her feet.

  The huntress holds her breath for a few moments and, with a barely perceptible movement, draws a semicircle through the air with the sword, making the wind hum.

  Explaining what she just did, she waits for me to replicate it. Doubts bubble up inside me like air in water. I can hardly bear the weight of this fake sword, and she wants me to lift it over my head?

  God, give me strength.

  “Remember, you have to feel a kind of tingling. When you do, swing the sword with all your strength,” she instructs.

  Preparing myself, I lift the sword with difficulty and place it above my shoulder. I close my eyes to try to concentrate, but the weight of the weapon crushes my collarbone.

  Nothing strange. Unable to hold it any longer, I let the sword fall and it hits the ground with a dull sound. My arms burn and I pant like a dying animal.

  “Very good.” She smiles. “Try again.”

  I catch my breath and try to lift it once more, but my strength fades in seconds. A drop of sweat enters my eye, burning for an instant. When I try to brush my hair back, my hand comes away wet.

  “Well? Do you feel anything?”

  “No.” I answer curtly.

  I don’t feel a damn thing, I want to say.

  This frustrates me, but I should calm down for a second. These are only the first attempts and maybe I should change my perspective to notice any improvement.

  “Nothing?” She frowns. “That’s strange.”

  “Did you feel that tingling the first time?” I ask while rubbing my eye with my thumb.

  “Yes. But back then I had to guess the right sensation.”

  Arms crossed, the redhead reflects in silence. I wait calmly for her answer while letting the sword fall so my fingers can rest. I wonder what she’ll come up with now to help me.

  A fresh breeze revives my spirits. The sweat on my skin evaporates, but the cold increases because of my soaked shirt.

  “Tell me, did you notice anything out of place in that illusion?” she finally speaks. “Something related to your blood, I think I remember.”

  “Oh, that’s right.” I look up. “It was like I could feel my blood moving inside me.”

  Clapping once in the air, she walks toward me decisively. Closing her eyes, Rya demands that I pay attention to her instructions.

  “Listen—many Laerim experience different things when they awaken their powers. I felt tingling; you felt the sensation of your blood traveling through your veins. I need to make you remember that feeling.”

  It’s the first time she’s been so close to me. When I open my eyes I study her face carefully. Her pupils shine like two precious stones in the sunlight and her body scent is soft and sweet. Her lips, though a little dry, have a healthy color.

  “Are you listening to me?” She raises an eyebrow.

  “Yes, yes. Of course.” I sigh and swallow.

  I didn’t know her eyelashes were so long. They were barely visible because they’re so fine.

  “I’m going to touch your arm with the tip of my nails so you have a reference. Try to remember what you felt,” she explains.

  I don’t like reliving that nightmare, but I have to. Since dawn I haven’t stopped remembering my death on that abandoned pier, along with my killer’s face. I think I’m getting used to it.

  No sign, but I don’t give up. I keep searching the hidden corners of my memory. I remember that in the orphanage there were constant abuses. When I became more aware of my surroundings and what they did to us there, I began to hate every person in that place—especially one man.

  A small room, translucent curtains covering the windows, and an older man in a black robe with a white collar. When he read the Bible aloud, sometimes he would place his hand in places I didn’t like, but he never went further than that.

  When I realize what he could have done to me, the disgust returns full force. So does the hatred.

  My breathing quickens.

  In my palm I feel his wrinkled, dry skin. When I squeeze hard I hear crackling from his throat. From inside I feel my blood slamming through my veins with fury.

  “Ethan!” a voice shouts beside me.

  I snap out of the dream and see my hand holding the sword higher than my head.

  “Listen to me—you have to concentrate!” she urges. “Try to hold that position as long as you can.”

  I close my eyes again. I try to forget everything outside, but over time my strength fades and so does the sword.

  The joy I feel can’t be put into words. I finally did it.

  I continue training after a short break. With renewed confidence it’s now easier to raise the weapon over my head and cut the air—though nowhere near as well as Rya does.

  Hours later my limbs hurt terribly and the movement of my arms is clumsy, as if controlled like a puppet. Exhausted, I drop my butt onto the grass to rest.

  “Hey, can you tell me how our magic works?” I ask, on the verge of passing out.

  “Has anyone ever told you you’re impatient?”

  “Yes!” I grin, showing teeth.

  Sweat droplets slide down my forehead and drip from my chin. While Rya thinks of her answer, my chest expands like a balloon, trying to recover lost oxygen.

  “You see, every living being in this world is born with this energy. Humans, monsters… anything that breathes and has some rationality has mana. The difference is that we can manipulate our own energy, but not that of another living being,” she explains, playing with her hands.

  The horizon turns violet and little by little the sun disappears behind the mountains. In the night sky, stars light up every corner like tiny fireflies.

  “Another important thing is that, in general, we have a larger mana reserve than an average person,” she adds. “And that’s why we can do so many things and fight monsters.”

  “Okay…” My eyes shine like matches. “And why can we do that? Why only a few and not everyone?”

  Something must have happened when I woke up in this world, because before all this I never experienced anything out of the ordinary—and I went through plenty of situations where rage overwhelmed me.

  “That’s a story for another day, alright?”

  What a disappointment. I wanted to know more and maybe, once I understood the origin of these abilities, some of my questions would have been answered.

  “At least can you teach me how… you control that?”

  “Fine, fine…” She sighs. “Just a little.”

  She steps several paces away. Breathing slowly, her hands pretend to touch something. Moments later a luminous aura surrounds her body, transforming her surroundings. Beneath her fingers emerges a sword made of… light? It shines brightly, though not as intensely as the afternoon sun.

  Even though it isn’t solid, I can make out certain details in that spectral weapon: the folds of the pommel, even the edge of the blade. If she used it, I’m sure it would cut anything in half.

  I beg her to teach me that ability, but she firmly refuses, saying that once I pass the first phase of training, she’ll instruct me in that power.

  “Can I touch it?” When I try to reach for the blade, Rya pushes my hand away.

  “No, no, no, no. Never do that.”

  The origin of our power is the same, but the properties of mana vary between each user, so it would be dangerous to interact with another Laerim’s energy. Understanding this and fearing the consequences, I pull my hands back. Still, I bombard her with questions that come and go. Rya stammers when trying to answer.

  “But isn’t it better to use something you make yourself than a regular sword? That one doesn’t look so strong.”

  “It’s not like that. Believe it or not, my mana is being drained just by giving it this shape. Look—it’s complicated to recreate objects… depending on many factors, your energy can deplete very quickly.”

  “Is it difficult then?”

  “Very difficult, but it depends on the shape, durability, and power you want to give it. Come, I’ll show you.”

  Keeping a safe distance, I walk behind her. At the foot of a tree Rya asks me to pay attention. With good technique she delivers a couple of slashes that damage the bark and leave clean cuts. However, if she ever dissipates her energy or loses focus, the creation loses all durability, according to her.

  In a final demonstration, she attacks the trunk again—but the blade shatters like fine crystal and particles of light vanish into the air.

  “Now it looks like paper, right?” Rya tosses what remains of the weapon to the ground; it explodes into white sparks. “Do you understand now?”

  In emergencies, fighting with my energy isn’t useless, but it is counterproductive. Unless I have an absurdly large reserve, it’s better not to waste it—because the more complex the creation, the more mana it requires. In the worst case, if my reserves run out, I would die.

  Although her explanation was useful, I still don’t understand one thing.

  “But then… doesn’t that sword of yours break every time you go hunting? Do you always buy a new one when you come back from a mission or how does it work?”

  “No,” she laughs like a little girl. “It doesn’t break. But it depends. Look—to avoid technical details even I don’t fully understand, basically my sword is made of a special metal. Remember the material my necklace is made of?”

  “I think it was… arcanite…?” I close my eyes hard and try to remember.

  “Exactly! They use arcanite and a metal called duritia to make weapons or armor.” She carefully unsheathes it.

  She shows her weapon with pride and steps away from me again, this time farther. She adopts a combat stance. The silver hilt reflects the moon like a polished mirror and the gem embedded in the pommel glows incandescently. The metal of the blade shifts color, shining like the light sword from earlier.

  “What’s special about this combination is that it can store and contain mana, making my sword much stronger. That’s why I can do things like this,” she emphasizes.

  The glow of her sword intensifies and blinds me for a moment. When my eyes recover, I see a huge crack in the ground—as if lightning had split the earth. I’m left speechless.

  “That scream at the end wasn’t necessary,” I comment.

  “Well…” She clears her throat while her cheeks flush. “Now you know how it works.”

  So much power within reach… and so many opportunities I won’t let slip away. Once I master it, I’ll do whatever I want. Tomorrow I’ll give my best effort to improve as quickly as possible and join the guild. My blood boils with excitement thinking about all the things I’ll be able to do.(