We didn’t pack much. In fact, if you’d seen our wagon, you might have thought we were just going on a weekend picnic rather than leaving behind five years of our lives. Chairs, tables, cookware, and all the little knickknacks that had accumulated over the years, we left them all. What we did bring could be summed up in one word: survival. Clothes, travel gear, and a few essentials. That was it.
My parents were emotional, especially my mother. She had grown close to the women at the tavern, and saying goodbye to them was like tearing out a piece of her heart. My father, stoic as ever, tried to mask his feelings, but even he lingered a little too long at the door.
The ownership of our house was turned over to Celen, who had just gotten married and, by sheer coincidence, needed a new home. It was almost too convenient, as though fate had been waiting for us to leave so it could hand him the keys. Celen and his new husband came over, and what began as a simple handover turned into an impromptu ceremony. There were hugs, tears, and awkward laughter. My family was emotional, and I had to admit...I was too.
Five years. Not a long time by most measures, but this was where I was born. This was where I awakened my classes. This was where I learned who I was. And yet, as with all things, we had to move forward.
We couldn’t stay here, not in a land ruled by a hypocritical religious body. With both my classes standing on the opposite side of their doctrine, it was only a matter of time before I was discovered. And when that happened, well… let’s just say “unwelcome” would be putting it mildly.
Jakob, ever the strategist, timed our departure with a merchant caravan heading west. Safety in numbers, as they say. The merchants had hired their own bodyguards, and it was expected that ours would work alongside theirs in a sort of collective defense strategy.
The merchants had four parties. We had two; or at least, that’s what they thought. In truth, we had only hired one party. The other “party” was my minions, who, to the untrained eye, looked like a second group of mercenaries. The merchants, assuming we were nobles with deep pockets, treated us with a certain deference. I didn’t bother correcting them. If people wanted to think we were rich and powerful, who was I to ruin their fun?
Our caravan was made up of several wagons, with one reserved for my family. The staging point was at the western gate of the city. Nina and the rest of the tavern waitresses came to see us off, their eyes red from crying. Even Sir Robert showed up. I suppose Nina’s affair with him had worked out in the end. I didn’t want to know the details of their relationship—some things are better left in the shadows.
Mother and her friends were especially emotional, fussing over me as though I were about to march into battle rather than sit in a wagon. I’ll admit, I was emotional too. Then, with a final round of goodbyes, we began our journey back to my parents’ homeland.
The Adventurers
As we moved along, I studied the adventurers we had hired. They were a well-rounded group:
- Anda, a level 43 warrior, broad-shouldered and perpetually scowling.
- Belle, a level 40 wind mage, elegant and aloof, with a voice that could probably cut glass.
- Jennie, a level 40 healer, cheerful and motherly, the kind of person who would scold you for not eating enough vegetables.
- Stanley, a level 42 rogue, who had the look of someone who would steal your coin purse and then help you look for it.
- Jake, a level 39 hunter, quiet and sharp-eyed, always scanning the horizon as though expecting trouble.
They were all humans.
From a gamer’s perspective, they were textbook: frontline tank, DPS, support. Balanced, efficient. I was curious to see how they handled real combat.
This was also an excellent opportunity for me and my siblings to learn. My minions could have taught us, of course, but they looked down on humans...even my siblings, Jack and Serena. Forcing them to cooperate would only breed resentment. Besides, I didn’t want my siblings influenced by their… let’s call it “flexible” moral compass. I, being an adult in mind, was already set in my ways. Morally questionable actions didn’t bother me as long as they benefited my family. But my siblings? They still had time to grow into their own paths.
The caravan moved at a crawl. Even though all the bodyguards had horses, the wagons dictated the pace. I’d estimate we were moving at ten kilometers per hour, maybe less. For someone from Earth, used to cars and trains, it was maddening.
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The scenery was nice at first; rolling hills, distant forests, the occasional flock of birds—but after a few hours, the novelty wore off. Boredom set in. To distract myself, I asked my brother about his training.
This caught my father’s attention.
“Why do you wish to learn how to fight with weapons? You are already a mage,” he said.
“That’s fine and dandy, Father,” I replied, “but I don’t want to be caught unaware. Imagine a mage who can also fight with weapons. That would be formidable.”
Jakob considered this, then nodded. “You’re right. Such a mage would indeed be formidable. I will teach you the bow and daggers.”
Not to be outdone, Serena immediately chimed in. “Me too! I want to learn sword fighting and other weapons.”
I rolled my eyes. Always the competitor. She reminded me of my sisters back on Earth; lovable, but irritating in equal measure.
Jakob laughed. “Of course, sweetie. We’ll teach you. Isn’t that right, Jake?”
Jake, ever the ray of sunshine, scowled. “Only if you do as I say.”
Serena gritted her teeth. “Yes.”
Jake gave her an evil smile, the kind that made you wonder if you’d just signed a contract with the devil. Good luck with that, dear sister.
The Lesson
When the caravan stopped for lunch, we seized the opportunity to begin training. Jack’s first focus was the one-handed sword.
“The first thing to learn about swords is preference,” he explained. “A warrior may train with many types, but eventually, they find one that suits them best. For me, it’s the two-handed sword.”
He unsheathed a massive blade, gleaming in the sunlight.
“This was a gift from Sir Robert after my awakening ceremony. It’s far superior to what Nathan gave me two years ago. Ideally, it’s wielded with two hands, though you can use one in a pinch. But for maximum effectiveness, two hands are necessary.”
He went on with his lecture. I already knew a fair bit about weapons from my old world, but it was useful to hear this world’s perspective. After all, optimal strategies here might differ from what I knew.
The Weapon Dilemma
This brought me to a dilemma: where would I get good weapons? Did monsters drop loot like in video games? I mentally asked my minions.
“Do monsters drop items when you kill them?” I asked.
Krizek replied, “No, Master. The mechanics you are familiar with in your old world do not exist here. Monsters don’t drop items. We harvest materials; claws, skins, bones; which can be sold or crafted into weapons and armor. Some monsters, however, contain magic crystals.”
“Magic crystals?” I asked.
Leshner explained, “They are mana cores found in higher-level monsters. These can be used to forge items with magical bonuses; strength, agility, resilience, and so on.”
“I see,” I said.
“But Master,” Leshner added, “your shadow weapons are superior to anything man-made.”
Krizek nodded. “Though enchanted weapons do exist, and some are said to rival even the greatest artifacts.”
“Let me know if you find anything promising,” I told them.
“What specifically do you want, Master?” Leshner asked.
“I’m not sure yet. First, I need to develop my own fighting style.”
Xander chimed in. “You could emulate the great lords of the Nether. Many were masters of both weapons and magic.”
“Thank you,” I said, closing the mental link.
I went back to listening to Jack, who by now was locked in yet another argument with Serena. What they were bickering about, I had no idea; and frankly, I didn’t want to. With those two, it could have been anything from sword grips to who got the bigger slice of bread at lunch. Mother, ever the peacemaker, cut their quarrel short with a single sharp look, and just like that, the caravan rolled on in relative peace.
As the wheels creaked and the horses plodded forward, I mulled over what my minions had told me and compared it with Jack’s lesson. His teachings weren’t exactly groundbreaking; no secret techniques or hidden wisdom passed down from ancient masters. Just the basics. Solid, practical, but nothing that would make a bard sing about it. Still, I wasn’t disappointed. Basics are the foundation, after all, and I was already dead set on learning every weapon I could get my hands on and mastering them.
Jack could teach me, yes, but I also had another advantage: the vast library of knowledge tucked away in my head, courtesy of my old world. If I wanted, I could recall entire training manuals; rapiers, katanas, longswords, you name it. I could practically summon the ghost of a fencing instructor to lecture me on footwork while I brushed my teeth.
But there was a problem. Before I could even think about wielding a blade with any real skill, I needed to train my body. And therein lay the rub: I was still five years old. Five. My arms were better suited for hugging stuffed animals than swinging swords. My legs, while sturdy enough for running around the yard, weren’t exactly ready for battlefield sprints.
So, for now, I had to be patient. Maybe when I turned eight, I’d start with the basics; running, conditioning, swinging a wooden sword until my arms ached. Until then, I’d have to content myself with theory, observation, and the occasional sibling squabble turned impromptu sparring match.
Still, the thought of it excited me. A mage who could also fight with weapons; that wasn’t just formidable, it was terrifying. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that terrifying is a very useful thing to be.