It had been several weeks since the so?called bandit attack, though the word “bandit” felt like a cruel misnomer now. Christine had adjusted surprisingly well to our family, thanks in no small part to my mother Serena’s nurturing presence and Shive’s patient guidance. My mother was like a mother bear; fiercely protective, endlessly loving, and unwilling to let anyone she cared for slip through her grasp. Christine, once a frightened orphan, had begun to smile again under her care.
After long talks with my siblings, we agreed that Christine deserved more than just shelter; she deserved to be part of us. That meant teaching her mana sense, the foundation of our family’s magical practice. It was not a decision we made lightly. Mana sense was intimate, almost sacred, but Christine had already become one of us. To deny her would be to deny the bond we had forged.
The truth was none of us could imagine letting her go. Christine was sweet, gentle, and resilient despite the horrors she had endured. She was the kind of child who clung to hope even when the world tried to strip it away. Who could blame us for wanting to keep her close? Leaving her at an orphanage or some cold institution would have been unthinkable.
When Christine finally opened up about her past, the weight of her words struck me like a blade. She had no family left. The so?called “bandits” who had been slaughtered were not criminals at all...they were her extended kin. Cousins, aunts, uncles. People who had raised her, laughed with her, loved her. My blood boiled as she spoke.
Why had the merchant’s bodyguards not even attempted to parley? Why had they chosen violence over words? Were they paranoid, or simply bloodthirsty? If it was the latter, then justice would be demanded. I swore silently that they would pay for their cruelty.
Weeks of travel finally brought us to the first city we had seen since leaving Kizah: Kharb, a sprawling settlement of nearly 37,000 souls. By the standards of the theocracy, it was considered one of the larger cities, bustling with trade, faith, and danger. Rumors spoke of dungeons scattered around its outskirts, places where mana pooled unnaturally thick. Even before reaching the gates, I could feel it...the air was heavier, saturated with energy, as though the land itself pulsed with hidden power.
There was so much I still did not understand. Why did dungeons cluster here? Was it the will of the gods, or some natural phenomenon of mana density? The mysteries gnawed at me, but answers would have to wait.
On the journey, I managed to acquire proficiencies in several weapons: one?handed and two?handed swords, spears, and daggers. Much of this came from sparring with my minions and training under Jack. For now, it was enough. My body was still that of a boy, small and limited, but knowledge was a seed that would grow with time.
I wanted my minions to delve into the dungeons. The experience and loot would be invaluable, and more importantly, it was the fastest path to breaking level 50. So, I approached my father.
“Hmmm… I think we have time,” Jakob mused after a moment of thought. “The merchants will be trading in the city. We’ll be here three days at most.”
Relief washed over me. Three days was enough.
Our caravan set up camp outside the city walls, joining the throngs of travelers who preferred the safety of open grounds to the uncertainty of crowded streets. My parents, cautious as ever, forbade us from wandering too far. Priests and paladins moved in and out of the city in steady streams, their presence a reminder of the theocracy’s watchful eye. Better to stay within sight of our camp than to risk unwanted attention.
Still, I sent my minions toward the dungeons. They traveled under disguise magic and cloaking brooches, but the risk remained. Priests and paladins were perceptive, and discovery could mean disaster. Yet the temptation of progress was too strong. If I wanted to break level 50, this was the only way.
While my minions marched toward danger, I turned to training. Jack, ever the patient teacher, placed a long sword in my hands.
“This weapon is designed for two?handed use,” he explained, his tone firm but encouraging. “Notice the longer blade and grip. Many knights prefer it, forgoing the shield entirely. I favor this weapon.”
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I listened, though part of me drifted. Jack spoke of history, of knights and traditions, but my mind wandered to Earth’s archives. My internal search engine pulled up the great masters of longsword combat...German, French, Italian. Among them, one name stood out: Fiore dei Liberi, the Italian master of 1409. His Fior di Battaglia, the Flower of Battle, was a treasure trove of martial wisdom. Longsword, dagger, spear, mounted combat; it was all there.
Curiosity overcame me. I downloaded the manual into my mind.
Then something strange happened. As I read, my body froze. Knowledge flooded me, not painfully, but with disconcerting intensity. In seconds, I understood Fiore’s stances, his strikes, and his philosophy. When I looked back at Jack, I saw him differently. Every flaw in his offense, every gap in his defense, every subtle misstep was laid bare before me.
It was a cheat. A glorious, unbelievable cheat. Simply by reading, I had absorbed mastery.
I opened my status:
- One?handed Sword Mastery: 1
- Two?handed Sword Mastery: 2
- Spear Mastery: 2
- Dagger Mastery: 2
- Mounted Combat: 1
It was a start. Knowledge alone was not enough; my small body remained limited. Practice would be required to translate theory into proficiency. Still, the potential was staggering.
“You’re doing it again,” Jack interrupted.
“What?” I asked, startled.
“You’re staring into your status page. I can see it...you’re not watching my moves.”
I chuckled nervously. “Sorry, brother. I was checking to see if I gained proficiency by observing.”
Jack frowned but nodded. “Of course you did. That’s how it works. But remember, Nathan, hard work is everything. There are no shortcuts.”
If only he knew.
Jack handed me a smaller two?handed sword, which to him was little more than a short blade, but to me felt like a proper longsword. I mimicked his stances, swung carefully, and adjusted my grip. Ten minutes later, the familiar ding of a system prompt echoed in my mind.
Two?handed Sword Mastery: 3
A grin spread across my face. My strategy was working. I would learn all I could from Jack, then supplement with Fiore’s teachings. Together, they would push me further than either alone.
“Stop checking your status mid?practice!” Jack scolded. “It’s distracting. Save it for later.”
I nodded sheepishly and continued. Hours passed, sweat dripping, muscles aching, until my mastery reached level 5. Progress slowed, but the foundation was solid.
During lunch beneath a shady tree, Christine, Shive, and Serena approached. Serena’s eyes sparkled with excitement.
“She got it!” she exclaimed.
“Got what?” I asked, wiping sweat from my brow.
“Mana sense,” Serena replied proudly.
I turned to Christine, the blonde girl blushing furiously. “Congratulations,” I said warmly.
“It’s because of your teaching, Nathan,” she whispered, smiling shyly.
Before I could respond, Serena shouted, “Mom! Dad! Nathan is in love!”
My jaw dropped. “What the hell?!”
Laughter erupted from my father and Jack. Dianne giggled, shaking her head. “Stop teasing your brother, Serena,” she said.
Christine’s face was red as an apple, but beneath her embarrassment was an undeniable talent. She had achieved mana sense in mere hours...a feat that had taken Serena days. Was she a prodigy? Perhaps.
I was genuinely impressed. Her speed hinted at potential, though she still had far to go. For now, I instructed her to focus solely on refining her mana sense. Tomorrow, she could attempt to form her mana core. Another spellcaster in the family would be invaluable, though I prayed we would not need to rely on her abilities anytime soon.
As the day wound down, I found myself reflecting on everything. Christine’s resilience, Christine’s talent, Jack’s guidance, and my cheat. The city of Kharb loomed nearby, its dungeons promising danger and opportunity. My minions were out there, risking discovery by priests and paladins. My family laughed and teased, unaware of the storm brewing within me.
I was still a boy, but I carried knowledge centuries old. I was even determined to become a battle mage or a battle warlock. Back in the game, warlocks were only limited to spellcasting and minions or pets. In this world, I will show them something they haven’t seen before, a spellcaster that is also a weapon master. And this world will quake in fear. a