-Callia-

  I watch my brother Callen faceplant into the ground as a stone from Grandpa pegs him right in the gut. A smug satisfaction fills me. That's what he gets for disappearing from our morning training sessions.

  It’s my turn now, and I begin running through Grandpa’s gauntlet of fun. I feel a sharp tug on my instincts and in a moment hit the ground, sliding under a speeding stone before using my low position to jump to a low-hanging branch.

  With grace only countless hours of practice teach, I flip over a log barrier and hit the ground sprinting past my brother's prone body. Again I lean left as Grandpa releases a log that swings in my direction, and it swishes harmlessly by me. Now is when it gets tricky. Grandpa, using speed beyond my comprehension, starts repositioning himself rapidly while throwing rocks with high accuracy.

  I let my instincts govern my actions, reacting even before I realize the danger. I'm like Spider-Man, skidding around and dodging every which way. Until finally I reach Grandpa’s wall. It’s a 100 ft stone left in the middle of the forest, and to complete today’s session, I have to climb it while dodging or enduring Grandpa’s harassment.

  With a quick jump I ascend the first 20 ft., and like a bug, I begin scrambling straight up, closing as much distance as I can before Grandpa’s assault begins.

  Left, Right, Duck, Side hop. Move after move, I dodge as I inch closer to the top. ‘Thump.’ A stone hits my lower ribs. I know it will leave a nasty bruise, but I press on. With the stinging pain, whenever I move, my dodges lose a level of their agility, and it isn’t long before my right thigh is hit. Swallowing the pain, I burst the final segment, ignoring the hits of two more stones onto my right shoulder and left arm.

  I reach the top panting and raise my arms in victory. This time I beat my previous record by two hits! I think back to when Grandpa first set this hellish course when Brother began his punishment with his runes teacher. The memory of Mom scolding Grandpa for bringing me back covered head to toe in bruises comes to mind. The worst part is she was upset because it might interfere with my ability to do chores!

  Well apparently it didn't. My natural recovery made the bruises fade quickly, and she had me join her scrubbing dishes while listening to my stories from my day. I should mention the dishes weren’t just ours but a massive pile including all of the orphans Mom takes care of, easily piled as high as my head!

  Back to the present, I descended from the stone and cheered on Callen as he braced himself to try the course again.

  “Grandpa isn’t going to let you go until you get to the top. Even if it hurts, push through.” I quietly warn my brother through our connection. I can see his face twist in misery, and though I pity him, I also revel in his suffering. Unconsciously I smirk as he starts moments later, and he gets his first hit right to the gut. I see him gasp as the wind is knocked out of him, but he staggers forward, intent to push through.

  As I watch his struggle, I have no time to react as a rock pegs me in the stomach. I heave desperately and dodge to the side as Grandpa takes advantage of my brother's recovery time to remind me never to let my guard down.

  I twist behind a tree and sigh in relief as Grandpa retargets Callen. Grandpa knows I can recover faster, and I chose to follow this path, so he never hesitates to remind me nowhere is safe. I’ve been ambushed at night, ambushed while playing with my new friends, and he has even snuck laxatives into my breakfast. Sometimes I wonder if he secretly has some grudge against me, but the happy giggling reminds me he is often more like a child discovering a love for pranking.

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  I watch Callen push on getting turned into a pulp by Grandpa’s love. That is until he stops for a moment, and then the air around him shimmers, and I see in English the words ‘Stop incoming projectiles until 15 mana is expended, then cease protection.’ Part of me is confused why he is making a glowing sign, but my eyes widen in shock as Grandpa’s stone is stopped flat by a shimmering barrier.

  I notice Grandpa freeze in surprise before an excited gleam enters his eye and the occasional sniper shot changes into a machine gun as Grandpa resolves to test Callen’s magic shield. Honestly, I’m surprised it lasted as long as it did, but about three-quarters of the way up, it fades, and Callen is pummeled by the following barrage of stones. Grandpa catches Callen before setting him down; embarrassed, he rubs his head, declaring.

  “Sorry, Callen. I may have gotten excited seeing something like that. I’ve never seen a runic shield written in the air!” Grandpa rubs his head, and I can feel my brother's resentment as Grandpa pats one of many bruises.

  “I used ‘Manifest Mana’ to make the runes. It won’t stop a punch, but a nonlethal projectile without the support of a skill is possible.” He explains, but I get the feeling Grandpa doesn’t care about its limits, only about how he can press Callen to improve it.

  Soon Callen is off to continue his rune tutoring, and I’m left with Grandpa. We move off to the side and over to Grandpa’s Extreme Archery Zone. Sometimes I feel if Grandpa was born on earth, he would be some kind of special forces from his love to push harder.

  I look out over the area Grandpa has set. A heavily wooded area with a large variety of targets attached to ropes so he can swing them, but he has also prepared a number of wooden blocks with targets marked on them that he expects me to intercept as he throws them at me. I hold my child-sized bow and set a large number of arrows in my quiver and into baskets around me for when I need more.

  In the corner of my eye I see a target begin its swing and snap to it with an arrow whizzing off. I have little time to respond as Grandpa moves with extreme speed behind me and tosses a block at me. I barely swing my bow around and release an arrow, knocking it aside. I glimpse another target swinging in the distance and prepare to fire at it, but Grandpa throws a stone at me, which forces me to duck away before I let off my shot into the distance, catching the target moments before it disappears behind a tree.

  Again and again Grandpa mixes stones and targets, pushing me to my limits as I empty my quiver and begin drawing from the prepared baskets. I don’t stop and don't think as my pace and accuracy begin to put even Hawkeye to shame. This feeling is why I love this. Callen might be fascinated by magic, but I love the surge of adrenaline and the wind in my face as I gradually overcome even heroes by earth standards.

  Of course the moment I feel pride in myself, it’s like Grandpa needs to correct me, and a stone hits my forehead, and we stop briefly so I can recover. Sweat drips down my body as I flop to the ground. He doesn’t say it, but I can tell Grandpa is proud. He hands me a waterskin that I chug in large gulps before we set out to collect our ammunition to start round two.

  After several more rounds, Grandpa sends me off to spend time with Mom. Originally Grandpa would keep me all day, but eventually I started to burn out, and Mom was quick to notice. Now I have my morning training with my brother, the middle of the day with Grandpa, and I spend my evenings with Mom and the orphans.

  It was a weird experience, but I found it rather fun being the big sister to the orphans. At least, among the children, I'm older than. Mom already took time teaching me what kind of things are acceptable for normal kids. A lot of activities normal on earth aren’t acceptable, like hide-and-seek. Both sides would gain skills, and having countless children learning the skill to hide was a one-way street to making Mom angry. Instead, children were grouped by whatever they wanted to become.

  It may seem unethical to have children and toddlers choose their future so early, but I’ve noticed at least in this aspect humans of this world are far more committed to whatever path they choose. I suspect that is the difference between an Earth human soul and a native soul. People are naturally drawn to paths that align with their skills, so a child with the run skill will be more restless and active. Therefore, people of this world didn't just believe in their dreams but let their dreams shape them into who they wanted to be.

  I ran up to Nixie and Reesia, my friends from the orphanage track team. Turns out sports and competitions are the go-to for child entertainment, one skill applied in a variety of ways. I push myself to my limit keeping up with them as we begin to catch up on the latest exciting gossip. Turns out in two days there's a big race around the perimeter of the village!

  I relax into my pace as we keep jogging through the afternoon, occasionally waving at passing villagers or watching the activity down by the docks as we pass by. With my keen sight I notice an unusual amount of alarm on the docks, and in the distance I see half of a ship slowly approaching. I let the girls know before breaking off to watch the dock workers set out to rescue survivors from the wreckage. I barely make out the ship's name, ‘The Watchman.’ I feel my heart hammer in anxiety as I realize that’s Dad’s ship.