“You are finally awake.”

  Looking to the side, Alhen saw Ale waiting for him.

  Focusing on her face, he saw something that confused him; she looked older, years older.

  She was sitting in a chair, looking at the door he’d just exited from.

  “Where is the father?” Alhen asked coldly.

  The woman in front of her had sent him with that crazy Lord.

  She had almost killed him, and he wouldn’t forget that.

  “Is this how you treat your healer? I can see the resemblance to the Kovesh. It is obvious that you are his son,” she said with a scoff.

  Alhen clenched his fists tightly, containing himself from lashing out at her at that moment.

  She had tried to kill him and then insulted him, comparing him with Father Vincent, that bastard.

  “I am nothing like him,” he said after taking a deep breath, but Ale only laughed at his words.

  Without waiting for Alhen to respond, she said, “The Kovesh told me that you should go to the church once you wake up. Supposedly, your mentor has arrived and is eager to train you.”

  Alhen remained looking at her without saying a word, just seeing her made him remember things he wanted to forget.

  “I want to ask one thing before I leave,” Alhen said, and Ale raised an eyebrow.

  “What exactly did you do to me? And how much time has passed since you healed me?” He asked.

  Ale smiled, closing her eyes and looking down at the ground.

  “Do not be too surprised. Every time I use Lord Silris' blessing, I lose five years of my lifespan, depending on the condition I am trying to heal,” she began.

  “You were out for a cycle, and as for what I did to you, nothing. Lord Silris herself healed your body,” she finished.

  “I don’t think that’s the case," he said, "She tried to kill me.”

  Ale raised an eyebrow, not at all believing what he said.

  ‘I should probably not tell her about what happened; information is dangerous,’ Alhen said while thinking of the advice his mentor had told him a few cycles ago.

  Thinking about what she said, he sighed.

  “Having a Lord’s blessing seems more like a curse to me,” he commented, but Ale only smirked, ignoring him completely.

  Without anything else to do, he left the Church of Healing and went to the Church of Orgurd.

  He passed through the streets filled with nobility who chatted and laughed heartily, sighing once again.

  Alhen, for the first time in a while, could say that he felt jealous of their situation.

  They didn’t have to worry about things like revenge and survival, but there was no use for lamenting.

  He left the walls of the district without trouble and passed through the empty streets, this time with his guard raised.

  It took him a few minutes to arrive at the church, which was close to the pig district.

  As soon as he stepped outside the walls of the district and entered where the church was, there was an immediate difference.

  He settled into the familiar atmosphere where no one was present outside of their homes.

  ‘After going through all that trouble, I deserve some relaxation. If I’m not mistaken, I should be able to use the private cleaning room,’ he thought.

  He entered the church and navigated the hallways.

  It was dead quiet, something unusual considering that every cycle seemed to be filled with prayer and worship.

  His footsteps echoed in the hall as he arrived where he wanted to be.

  An inconspicuous door, looking the same as all the other doors in the church, stood in front of him, but he knew that its appearance was deceptive.

  ‘I have only entered here once, and it was the best experience of my life,’ Alhen thought.

  Expectation started building up before immediately slumping his shoulders from disappointment.

  ‘To think that this is the best experience in my life, that’s pathetic,’ Alhen thought.

  As he opened the door, steam came out of the room, and he felt like he was in a sauna.

  A big metal bucket of water lay in front of him, big enough so he could fit inside.

  The walls and floor were made of wood, while the ceiling was of a different, smooth-looking material.

  Water flowed from a hole in the ceiling to a small hole in the ground in an endless motion.

  Many small wooden buckets of water lay around, and towels were on shelves perched on the walls.

  Without missing a beat, he closed the door and locked it before throwing his dirty clothes to the ground.

  The warm steam hugged his body, relaxing him by the second.

  He could feel his mind clearing, and he grabbed the small wooden buckets to fill them with water one by one.

  When he finished, he poured all the water into the big metal bucket, filled it, and threw himself inside.

  The water was hot, comfortable enough for him to feel the stress in his mind and body dissipate like vapor.

  Alhen lay with his eyes closed for a few minutes.

  He didn’t allow himself to think about anything that would lower his mood.

  After a while, he opened his eyes and thought about the first time that he entered this room.

  It was when Henry was put in a coma by Father Vincent.

  He had been mad, and the father allowed him to use this room to calm down.

  He sighed, thinking about the past made him feel things that he would rather forget.

  He shifted his thoughts to think about the time he met Lord Silris and what had happened in that space.

  ‘I was freaking out that the only objective I had was to kill Father Vincent. What other goals can I have in this life? I don’t want everything to be simply about revenge,’ Alhen thought.

  ‘No matter how much I hate the father, I refuse to give him more attention than he needs; that’s what he wants,’

  Closing his eyes, he tried thinking of something that would give him purpose other than revenge, but he came back empty-handed.

  ‘I don’t know anything about the world, so I should probably gain more information… Wait a second, talking about information, I have to find out why I killed my father in my past life,’

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  ‘I feel like that’s the reason I’m here in the first place,’ he thought.

  Making up his mind about one of his objectives, he stopped worrying about it and spent a few more minutes basking in the hot water.

  When he felt that he had had enough, he bade this place goodbye.

  ‘If I want to find out why I killed my father, I have to grow stronger and gain more information about this world. I will do that first, and then I will worry about killing Father Vincent.’

  He threw his bloodied clothes in a straw basket and left them there for the maids to find and clean while he searched for his mentor.

  Alhen then changed into clean but poor-quality clothes that lay in another basket perched on the wall.

  The clothes were too big for him, and he felt like a kid trying on his parents’ clothes.

  ‘I had almost forgotten this feeling,’ Alhen thought, almost melancholically.

  Now being clothed, he headed out in search of Alaran.

  He headed towards Father Vincent’s office, where he hesitated a second before knocking on the door.

  He entered after he heard a voice from the inside call out for whoever was behind the door.

  “My son, how are you feeling?” Father Vincent asked without taking his gaze from the book he was reading.

  “I’m doing well now, my body feels better than ever before,” Alhen answered.

  He omitted the details of what happened back in the Church of Healing.

  “Are you not forgetting something?” The father asked, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at him with a slight smirk.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Alhen responded

  “My thanks, I haven’t received them yet,” Father Vincent said.

  Alhen scoffed and ignored him.

  Even though everything turned out well, he had almost died.

  “Where is Alaran?” He asked.

  “Don’t you think that you are being childish, my boy? When your father asks you to do something or does something for you, you should be thankful and respectful at all times,” the father said.

  Alhen ignored him and waited patiently for his question to be answered.

  “If this attitude keeps being a problem, then I will be forced to lecture you. Alaran is in the training arena, go find him there,” Father Vincent said.

  Without saying a word, Alhen turned to leave, exiting the door and leaving the father behind.

  Now alone in his office, Father Vincent sighed and shook his head.

  “This boy is becoming too defiant to his father. So, he is in his rebellious phase, huh? I will have to teach him some manners,” the father said with a wicked smile adorning his face.

  Alhen walked through the long hallways and ended up in the training grounds.

  The first thing that came to his eyes was the figure of Alaran sitting on a chest full of weapons.

  He read the same book without a cover.

  He approached, and Alaran became aware of his presence.

  “What are you reading? I always see you with that book at hand,” Alhen commented.

  “It is a diary,” Alaran responded.

  He wanted to ask more, but he realized that Alaran didn’t seem to want to talk about it.

  “Took you long enough to arrive. I was starting to get bored, even considered leaving,” his mentor said.

  “Why did you wait for me here? You could have waited at your home,” Alhen questioned.

  Alaran laughed, “I do not know what home you are talking about.”

  With those words, he stood and approached him.

  “I found out about what happened in your last hunting contract. The girl you were working with told me,” Alaran said.

  Alhen widened his eyes, looking nervously at Alaran.

  “You need not get nervous, I know that there was nothing your group could do, we are talking about a reaper blood wiht after all.”

  Alhen looked down at the floor, sinking into the feeling of failure.

  “You will need to work to get stronger, for something like this to never happen again, to protect those whom you care about,” Alaran said.

  At the end of his sentence, Alhen could feel the heaviness of the statement.

  Alaran was mad.

  “What are you doing standing there without doing anything? Go run sixty laps, now!” Alaran ordered.

  Alhen didn’t argue and ran, leaving his body a sweaty mess by the end of it.

  ‘I just ran sixty laps, and despite feeling like shit, at least I’m not a mess on the ground,’ Alhen thought, a small smile creeping up his face.

  “Very well, now that we have warmed up, it’s time for lessons with the axe,” Alaran said before retreating into the distance and getting Alhen’s thuls.

  He had forgotten he didn’t have them until that moment.

  Alhen approached his mentor before Alaran threw the thuls his way.

  He grabbed the axe and the revolver with one hand, almost fumbling them into the ground, but locking them firmly in his grip soon after.

  “Oh, before I forget, you have to start absorbing energy from a dead wiht or human. You have not been doing this, and it will hinder you,” Alaran began.

  “Techniques using weapons and your blessing can help you avoid being outmatched by a higher sign holder, but this will only take you so far,” he finished.

  “Thanks for the advice. I will start absorbing energy on my next hunt.” Alhen thanked sincerely.

  “Very well, for now, focus on your axe lessons,” Alaran said.

  “Understood,” Alhen said before charging at his mentor with everything he had.

  Despite his enthusiasm to grow stronger, he barely knew what he was doing, and the axe was still too heavy for him.

  Alaran dodged with ease, looking almost bored at his attempts, not really focusing on him at all.

  To add salt to injury, he grabbed the diary perched where he had left it and began reading it in the midst of Alhen’s attacks.

  Alhen gritted his teeth from frustration and activated his artifact.

  His right arm materialized in the form of blue light before he gripped the axe with both hands.

  This time, he had the strength to wield it correctly.

  The axe became faster, and each hit would hit harder, but the result didn’t change.

  Alaran flipped through a page of the diary before shifting his eyes to look at his mentee.

  “You are showing some progress, but it is still not enough. I need to see you do more than that.”

  “Now that you can use both arms, training will look different. Come here,” Alaran said before retreating to another area in the arena.

  Alhen gave off a frustrated sigh and walked with his mentor to the dummy area.

  ‘This experience has truly opened my eyes to the vast amount of power my mentor possesses,’ Alhen thought.

  ‘My first goal should be to make him pay full attention to me while we fight, then I can move on and try to touch him and eventually beat him.’

  Alhen smiled, finding the idea of beating his mentor anytime soon laughable.

  “You will be focusing more on fighting with your left hand, as you cannot rely on something that is limited in nature.”

  “That artifact will give you a good boost, but it is not eternal. That being said, it does not mean that you will not practice using your right hand; it is still useful,” Alaran said.

  Alhen nodded before he practiced deflection and attacking with him.

  Alaran struck at a reasonable speed, and he had to deflect the attacks over and over again until he got the hang of it.

  Each time he made a mistake, his mentor would point it out patiently and give him the extra boost he needed to improve.

  It wouldn’t help him any time soon with wihts, but in case he ever got in a fight with a human, it would be worth it.

  Then came attacking, Alhen had to attack to break Alaran’s defences continuously, and he had to block.

  Alaran restrained himself in this test, having the average strength and speed of an Initiated Hunter to start.

  Alhen swung more than half the time with his left arm and the other with both arms.

  Of course, he didn’t manage to do any real damage, but at least he got down some of the technique.

  Sweat poured down his forehead as he was forced to attack endlessly to improve his stamina.

  ‘You will become someone who will never tire,’ Alhen remembered the words his mentor had said.

  He was dead set on making him a stamina demon, and Alhen wasn’t opposed to the idea.

  If he ever needed to run away or take care of himself in a drawn-out fight, he would be able to do so.

  His attacks slowed down considerably, with each of them looking as if they were sent at a snail’s pace.

  Alaran harmlessly flicked the axe away with his fingers, and that’s when he was allowed a break.

  “Continuing would be useless; you would just be wasting energy for no reason. I believe that you have practiced with the axe enough; it’s time to use that revolver hanging on your waist,” said Alaran.

  Alhen nodded, being fed up with using the axe already.

  Although he didn’t want to use the axe anymore, he saw the progress with it, which brought a dumb smile to his face.

  “What are you smiling about? We are not done, focus. I will be throwing these metal plates into the air, and you have to shoot them down.”

  “It is basically the training we did last time, but with added difficulty,” he said.

  Taking out his revolver, he checked that it was still loaded and got into position to shoot down the plates.

  Alaran took them out of a nearby chest and started throwing them one by one in the air.

  “Bang!” First shot, miss.

  “Bang!” Second shot, miss.

  “Bang!” Third shot, miss.” Alhen frowned, and Alaran started laughing loudly.

  ‘God, how I wish I could just punch him in the face,’ Alhen thought, being slightly embarrassed.

  “Kid, what are you aiming at? Get serious. Remember what I told you at the last training session.”

  Not taking his focus away, he breathed deeply and gripped his revolver tightly.

  Alaran sent another plate into the air, and this time, “Crack!” The plate broke, shattering into many pieces and landing on the ground.

  Alaran didn’t stop and kept throwing plate after plate.

  Alhen managed to take down a few of them, but otherwise struggled to think and act fast enough to break the barrage of plates Alaran threw in the air.

  After a couple of minutes, he stopped and reloaded his revolver for the twelfth time, having to use the artifact to do so comfortably.

  “Alright, you are done. Go do whatever you want, I am going to take a walk,” Alaran said before leaving the training ground, leaving Alhen alone.

  ‘What do I do now?’ He asked himself.

  “Oh, right, Sloan and Sierra, I have to talk to them about other missions and to find out what happened.”

  He went to his room, where he found his hunter clothes having been washed and changed in a heartbeat.

  He threw the clothes he had used on the ground before leaving the church.

  He walked through the narrow streets of the district with a clear mind.

  ‘I hope they are in The Crying Halberd or else I would have walked here for nothing. They only wanted me to fill the numbers of their party last time, will they accept me again?’ he wondered.

  Alhen decided not to think about it.

  His mind was tired, and he could feel himself losing focus more than once during his walk to the establishment.

  All that training had him feeling liberated but exhausted.

  The Crying Halberd came into view, and he started to relax.

  Before he could approach, however, he felt something piercing his neck.

  He couldn’t scream, couldn’t fight, couldn’t escape; he had been paralyzed.

  His eyes widened, and his heart hurt.

  ‘What is happening?!’ He desperately thought.

  Nothing he did worked; it was useless.

  He could only watch as his body was dragged through the streets, and the establishment got left behind.

  His limp body was carried helplessly through the dirty streets.

  For each second that he got further away from the establishment, the growing sense of dread within him rose.

  ‘I am being captured.’

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