ã€ŠReturn Of The Lost Swordã€‹


 Ashvenmoor

    Ashvenmoor, a world of wonder and terror combined. Ruled by powerful gods who govern the delicate balance of existence. They weave peace into the fabric of the world, empower the races with gifts of magic and strength, and create champions whose ambitions often lead them to seek power beyond their grasp. Each god holds dominion over their own realm, their strength unshakable and absolute in their sphere. Yet none can rival the might of he who has no name. The first. The creator. The father of all gods in the High Realm. His presence looms above all, a silent force of creation and destruction.

    But even in the sanctity of the High Realm, where divine power is absolute, a shadow stirs¡ªa harbinger of chaos that whispers of rebellion and ruin. The gods, mighty as they are, are not invincible, and the peace they have forged teeters on the edge of collapse.

    But that''s a story for another day. Let¡¯s descend to Ashvenmoor, to a random area on the outskirts of the human continent Velmerys.

    From the heavens, a piercing light blazed across the sky, cutting through the clouds like a burning blade. It streaked down with an otherworldly speed, igniting the air around it. A deafening roar followed, the sound building in intensity as it neared the earth, and then¡ª

    [ BOOM! ]

    The impact was cataclysmic. A monstrous shockwave erupted, blasting outward in every direction with unimaginable force. Trees splintered into shrapnel, rocks were vaporized into dust, and the earth itself cracked and buckled under the strain. A roaring inferno rose from the epicenter, consuming everything in its wake as the ground quaked violently, throwing debris high into the atmosphere.

    The sheer force annihilated everything within a 100-kilometer radius, leaving behind a barren wasteland. The once-lush terrain had been reduced to scorched, smoldering earth, a desolate scar on the world of Ashvenmoor where no life dared linger. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the distant crackle of dying flames and the faint whisper of ash settling onto the lifeless ground.

    [ 100 Years Later ]

    The area where the object had landed, once a desolate wasteland of scorched earth and ruin, had undergone a miraculous transformation. Over the decades, the land healed itself, as though some unseen force willed life to return. The soil, once charred and barren, became rich and fertile, sprouting vibrant greenery that stretched as far as the eye could see.

    Towering trees, their trunks thick and ancient-looking despite their age, now cast long shadows over lush meadows. Rivers flowed with crystalline water, their gentle currents weaving through the land like veins of life. Animals thrived in the forests and plains, creating an ecosystem that seemed untouched by the horrors of the past.

    Amid this newfound paradise, humans had arrived, drawn by the natural beauty of the land. They started small, with just a handful of settlers founding a quiet village they named Norway. The villagers lived in harmony, their lives simple and peaceful. Farmers tilled the fertile soil, hunters roamed the abundant forests, and families built homes of stone and timber, their laughter echoing through the serene landscape. Norway was a haven, a place untouched by strife or war, its people flourishing alongside the land.

    That was, until the capital took notice. News of Norway¡¯s prosperity spread far and wide, drawing the attention of Velmerys'' rulers. They saw potential¡ªnot in the village¡¯s peace, but in its strategic location and untouched resources. Officials arrived, followed by merchants, builders, and adventurers. They turned Norway into a bustling hub for travelers and fighters, transforming the quiet village into a lively adventurer''s outpost. Inns, forges, and guild halls replaced the humble homes, and Norway became a destination for those seeking fame, fortune, or refuge.

    Despite the chaos of its new identity, one mystery remained unsolved. In a land surrounded by wilderness, Norway had never suffered a single monster attack. No wolf packs prowled its outskirts, no goblins skulked in its shadows, and no greater beasts dared set foot near its borders. It was as if an unseen barrier protected the town, shielding it from harm.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.

    Rumors spread among the adventurers. Some believed the land itself was enchanted, blessed by an ancient god. Others whispered of a lingering presence, a remnant of whatever had fallen here a century ago. But no one knew the truth, and no one dared to dig too deep into the past. Whatever the reason, Norway thrived, its people living under the protection of a mystery they couldn''t begin to unravel.

    One day, under the scorching sun, a young teen could be seen working tirelessly in the farmlands. Sweat dripped from his brow, the heat relentless, but he didn¡¯t stop. This teen¡¯s name was Travis, a sixteen-year-old orphan who had spent his entire life in the village of Norway.

    Travis had known happiness once. His parents, both renowned adventurers, had provided him with a life most children envied. They weren¡¯t home often, always off on raids or missions, but they made sure he had everything he could ever want¡ªa warm home, toys, and stories of their heroic deeds that filled his young heart with dreams of following in their footsteps.

    But all of that shattered when he turned ten. During a routine raid, his parents were killed, leaving him alone in the world. Orphaned and grieving, Travis was taken in by Norway''s orphanage. The once-bright life he had known dimmed, and while the caretakers provided for his basic needs, the warmth and joy of family were lost to him.

    By the time he turned sixteen and was considered an adult, he had no choice but to find work to survive. Luckily, Mr. Logan, a crop owner and an old friend of his father¡¯s, offered him a job on the farm. It wasn¡¯t glamorous, but it kept him fed and gave him a purpose. For months now, Travis had worked hard, saving what little money he could to afford his needs.

    Wiping his brow with the back of his hand, he let out a sigh, the sun beating down on his shoulders.

    ¡®I should¡¯ve bought a hat instead of a new shovel, honestly,¡¯ he thought, shaking his head at his own poor decision.

    As he dug his shovel into the dirt, his mind wandered to the dreams he¡¯d once had. As a boy, he had imagined himself as a mighty adventurer, just like his parents. He pictured hunting monsters, going on grand raids, and becoming a celebrated hero. But reality had hit him hard as he grew older.

    When he turned twelve, like everyone else in Norway, he underwent the mandatory evaluation to measure his potential. It was a significant moment in every child¡¯s life¡ªa chance to discover their talents and determine their future. For most, the evaluation brought hope and excitement. For Travis, it brought shame.

    His evaluation results marked him as having the lowest possible talent, practically useless by society¡¯s standards. It was a rare outcome, but not unheard of. The label stuck to him like a curse, and the other children in the orphanage treated him differently from that day forward. He became an outcast, the target of ridicule and scorn. The next four years of his life were a living hell.

    Now, as he stood in the fields, the weight of those years felt distant, but not forgotten. He had come to terms with his fate.

    ¡®Adventuring was never meant for me. Literally,¡¯ he thought bitterly, stabbing the shovel into the dirt.

    ¡®And honestly, in my own opinion, it¡¯s not worth the risk. I¡¯ll just stick to farming. I heard farmers make good money. Mr. Logan seems to be doing pretty well, and maybe... maybe if I work hard enough, he¡¯ll make me his successor.¡¯

    A small smile tugged at his lips as he paused to glance up at the sky. The thought of a simple, happy life with Jessica, Mr. Logan¡¯s daughter, crossed his mind.

    ¡®Yeah, maybe I¡¯ll even marry Jessica. She¡¯s sweet, pretty, and¡ª¡¯

    ¡°Hey, Travis! Get back to work!¡±

    The sharp voice of his supervisor snapped him out of his daydream. He flinched, turning to face the man with an embarrassed smile.

    ¡°Yes, sir!¡± he called back, quickly resuming his work.

    As he dug into the earth once more, the fleeting moment of fantasy was replaced by the harsh reality of the present. Still, a small flicker of hope lingered in his heart¡ªa hope that maybe, just maybe, life would someday offer him something more.

    ''Well, for now, let¡¯s just focus on getting recognition,'' Travis thought, wiping the sweat from his brow as he positioned the shovel to dig into the earth.

    His mind wandered again, distracted by the simple but comforting fantasy of securing a stable life. But reality had a way of quickly snapping him back.

    With a grunt, he thrust the shovel into the soil. However, instead of sinking smoothly into the dirt, it met something solid¡ªsomething far harder than anything he had encountered before. There was a sharp, resounding crack, and before he could even register what had happened, the shovel snapped in half, the wooden handle splintering as the metal blade tore free from it.

    Travis collapsed to his knees in shock, staring at the broken pieces scattered in front of him. The sudden failure left him motionless, his chest tight with disbelief.

    His coworkers, who had been working nearby, immediately burst into laughter.

    ¡°Ahaha!! Man, you have such bad luck!¡± one of them jeered, his voice thick with amusement.

    ¡°That¡¯s the third shovel since he started working here!¡± another one chimed in, shaking his head with a grin. ¡°I guess I win the bet,¡± he added, looking smug, as if this had been expected.

    The others snickered, and a few even exchanged looks, as if this was some sort of joke at Travis''s expense. His face burned, and the embarrassment was overwhelming, but there was also something deeper¡ªsomething that gnawed at him, a sense of something wrong.

    Travis stared at the shattered pieces of his shovel, a sense of unease creeping over him. The handle, usually sturdy and dependable, had splintered as if it had struck something far harder than the rich soil of the farmlands. There was no explanation for it.

    ¡®What broke it?¡¯ he wondered, his heart pounding.

    TO BE CONTINUED

 Red Sword

    The ground beneath him looked no different than any other patch he had worked on. The earth was fertile, soft, and pliable. He had dug here before without issue, but today¡­ something was off.

    He reached down, running his fingers over the broken shards, a chill running up his spine. Was it a hidden rock? No, it felt different. Something in the soil felt unnatural. His gaze darted to the area where the shovel had struck, but all he could see was dirt and roots. It was as if the earth itself had resisted the strike, not with just the force of its depth, but with something far more mysterious.

    The laughter of his coworkers faded into the background as Travis¡¯s mind raced. He had to figure out what had caused this. Had he simply been unlucky again, or was there something deeper buried beneath the surface of this land? Something he had not yet discovered.

    The day¡¯s heat suddenly seemed more oppressive, and his hands trembled as he gathered the broken pieces of the shovel. Something was happening here¡ªsomething that had yet to reveal itself. But what? And why him?

    His supervisor, a middle-aged man with a permanent scowl etched on his face, strolled over, a lazy smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

    "Well, I guess you¡¯re off early today," he said, eyeing the broken shovel with a disapproving glance. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll make sure this comes out of your salary.¡±

    The words were coated with sarcasm, and he gave a mocking chuckle before turning on his heel and walking away without another word.

    Travis felt a surge of anger flood through him, his hands balling into fists. He stared at the man¡¯s retreating figure, and in his mind, he imagined grabbing the broken shovel staff and smashing it against his supervisor¡¯s head, knocking him to the ground.

    The vision was clear¡ªsatisfying, even¡ªbut it was only a fantasy. In reality, Travis simply stood up, his chest tight with frustration. He sighed deeply, slinging the broken shovel over his shoulder and walking away, leaving the fields behind him.

    ¡¯Why can¡¯t I do anything right?¡¯ he thought bitterly, kicking the ground as he walked.

    The dirt crunched under his foot, but the feeling of failure gnawed at him. He had tried so hard, yet every step forward seemed to end in disaster.

    As he trudged down the dirt road, heading toward his meager home, his thoughts were interrupted by a sight that made his heart sink. From around the corner, Jessica appeared, walking gracefully with a smile on her face. She was beautiful, as always, her golden hair gleaming in the sunlight, her presence almost ethereal. But it wasn¡¯t just Jessica that caught his eye¡ªit was the man walking beside her.

    Sora.

    Travis recognized him instantly. A well-known adventurer, celebrated for his strength and skill. Sora was everything Travis wasn¡¯t. Charismatic, confident, and effortlessly powerful. And here he was, walking beside Jessica, laughing as if they shared some private joke. The sting of jealousy shot through Travis like a sharp blade.

    ¡¯Damn, now that¡¯s the final hit to the nail,¡¯ he thought, his stomach tightening.

    He walked past them, trying his best to avoid making eye contact, but the bitterness inside him simmered just below the surface.

    When he finally arrived at his home, a dilapidated horse stable tucked at the edge of the village, he felt the weight of the day press down on him even more.

    His ¡°roommates¡± were horses¡ªlarge, smelly creatures that, for some reason, had become his only company. They gave him an occasional glare but mostly ignored him as he trudged inside, carrying the broken shovel like an unwanted burden.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    With a groan, Travis collapsed onto his bed. It was sturdy, or at least it used to be. As soon as he hit it, a loud creak sounded, followed by a sudden crash. The bed collapsed beneath him, sending him tumbling onto the floor with a thud. Anger flared inside him, and he started kicking at the wooden frame, muttering curses under his breath. The horses, who had been dozing nearby, raised their heads and stared at him, their large eyes unblinking.

    One of them let out a soft snort, and another made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. Travis froze, staring at them. "What¡¯s funny?" he muttered bitterly, sitting up and glaring at the animals. "I hope all of you get put down."

    The horses didn¡¯t respond, of course. They simply went back to their chewing, unbothered by his outburst. Travis lay back down, staring up at the wooden ceiling, his mind swirling with thoughts of frustration, disappointment, and the sense that nothing ever went his way.

    ¡¯I¡¯d do anything to get what I want,¡¯ he thought bitterly, the words settling heavily in his chest. But the truth was, he wasn¡¯t sure what he was willing to do anymore. Exhausted from the weight of his own anger, Travis finally drifted off to sleep, the sound of distant hooves echoing softly in the background.

    ...

    Late in the night, when the world around him was still and quiet, Travis suddenly awoke. His mind, still swirling with frustration from the day, was most fixated on one thing: his broken shovel. But what truly gnawed at him was what had caused it to break. What had he struck in the earth that was so strong it could shatter a sturdy tool?

    Driven by curiosity, Travis couldn''t shake the need for answers. He climbed out of his bed, the cool night air brushing against his skin as he silently made his way out of the stable. He moved carefully, avoiding making noise, not wanting to attract any unwanted attention. After all, sneaking into the fields at this hour was technically trespassing, and he certainly didn¡¯t want to get arrested for something as trivial as a broken shovel.

    The crop fields were bathed in the pale glow of the moon, the plants swaying gently in the night breeze. As Travis crept closer to the spot where his shovel had broken, a familiar figure appeared out of the shadows. Bruno, the dog that patrolled the fields, trotted up to him, tail wagging excitedly.

    Travis grinned, kneeling down to greet the dog. Bruno barked happily, nuzzling against him, and Travis couldn¡¯t help but laugh. The dog had always been a good friend to him, and now, in the stillness of the night, the two shared a rare moment of peace.

    But as much as he enjoyed the dog¡¯s company, Travis couldn¡¯t forget why he was there. He patted Bruno on the head, standing up and focusing on the task at hand. Walking up to the spot where he had broken his shovel, he crouched low, brushing the dirt aside with his hands. His fingers scraped against something hard, and his breath caught in his throat when he saw a faint glimmer from beneath the soil.

    ¡¯Did I strike gold?¡¯ Travis thought in disbelief, excitement beginning to build in his chest. He reached out, his fingers trembling as he touched the object. But the moment his skin made contact, a searing burn shot through his hand, causing him to jerk back with a gasp. His hand throbbed in pain, and he instinctively sucked his fingers, trying to soothe the sting.

    Bruno, who had been watching intently, tilted his head at Travis¡¯s sudden reaction. The dog let out a low growl, as if sensing something strange in the air. Travis stood still, his heart racing, his mind racing with questions.

    ¡¯What burned me?¡¯ He thought, still in shock. His curiosity pushed him forward. He wasn¡¯t going to stop now. He started digging again, more carefully this time, determined to uncover whatever lay hidden beneath the earth. Minutes turned into what felt like hours as he slowly uncovered the object, inch by inch, the cool night air brushing against his sweaty face.

    Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Travis unearthed the full extent of the object. His breath caught as he stared at what lay before him: a long, red blade, half-buried in the dirt. It looked almost alive, glowing faintly with a strange, internal light that illuminated the ground around it. The blade seemed to hum with energy, and Travis¡¯s hands trembled as he reached toward it.

    ¡¯A sword. What¡¯s it doing here?¡¯ he thought in wonder, staring at the glowing weapon in disbelief.

    Without hesitation, he grabbed the hilt of the sword, his fingers curling around it. The moment he touched the blade, a jolt of energy shot through his body. It wasn¡¯t painful, though. In fact, it felt almost good, a strange, exhilarating sensation that spread through his muscles and bones, awakening something deep within him.

    The sword hummed again, its glow intensifying as Travis held it aloft. He gazed at the blade, a sense of awe filling him as he admired its craftsmanship. It was beautiful, unlike anything he had ever seen. He had no idea where it came from or how it had ended up buried in the soil, but in that moment, Travis felt a surge of excitement.

    ¡¯I wonder how much this will sell for? This has to be a long-lost artifact or something.¡¯ His thoughts raced as he pictured the amount of gold he could make by selling it.

    Before he could revel further in his discovery, a voice shouted out from behind him.

    ¡°Hey!!! What are you doing there!!¡±

    Travis didn¡¯t even look back. His instincts kicked in, and without a second thought, he spun around and bolted. He sprinted through the fields, the sword gripped tightly in his hand as he heard footsteps pounding behind him. He wasn¡¯t sure who had spotted him, but it didn¡¯t matter. He wasn¡¯t going to be caught.

    His heart pounded in his chest as he ran, pushing himself harder, his legs burning with effort. The sounds of pursuit faded as he managed to outpace whoever had been chasing him. His breath came in ragged gasps, but the adrenaline kept him moving.

    Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he reached the stable. He skidded to a halt, his chest heaving as he leaned against the door, trying to catch his breath. Sweat covered his face, but a smile slowly spread across his lips.

    ¡¯That was fun, honestly,¡¯ he thought, his pulse still racing.

    He took a moment to calm himself, then lifted the sword, admiring it once more. The red blade shimmered in the dim light, and Travis¡¯s smirk deepened.

    ¡¯This is my ticket to get rich,¡¯ he thought, the thrill of discovery and the promise of wealth filling him with a new sense of purpose. Whatever this sword was, it had just changed his life.

    TO BE CONTINUED

 Awakening

    As Travis fell asleep with the sword in hand, he found himself drifting into an unusually vivid and mysterious dream.

    In this dream, Travis stood alone in the middle of an infinite white expanse. The emptiness stretched out in every direction, an overwhelming void that made him feel both small and insignificant. He¡¯d never encountered such a place before, and its strangeness unsettled him, leaving his mind racing for any explanation.

    He looked down at his hands, marveling at the sensation of his body, as if it were tethered to reality itself. He could move freely, control his actions as easily as if he were awake. The weight of the sword in his grip felt almost tangible, a surreal, grounding sensation.

    ''Hmm, am I actually in a dream? Or am I dead?'' he wondered, his thoughts a blur of confusion.

    The feeling of control combined with the utter strangeness of the world around him unsettled him further.

    As he turned and began walking, he felt a peculiar resistance in the air, like invisible barriers around him, hindering any real forward motion. No matter how much he moved, he remained in the same spot. Then, as if drawn by some unseen force, he turned back and saw something that made his heart skip a beat.

    The sword he had just found lay there, waiting. How had it returned to this place?

    ''What''s it doing here?'' he thought as he approached the blade, his hands instinctively reaching for its hilt. He swung it around, the action fluid and practiced. ''If only I were an adventurer. I''d probably use this as my own,'' he mused, but his thoughts were interrupted by a voice.

    "You seem familiar with swords."

    Startled, Travis spun around, his hand instinctively tightening on the hilt. Standing before him, a man cloaked in brilliant white robes met his gaze, exuding an air of serenity and power that unsettled him.

    "I apologize for spooking you," the man said, his voice calm and even. "It¡¯s nice to meet you, Travis."

    The words felt oddly personal, almost as if they were meant for him alone, as though the man knew him, understood him, in ways Travis couldn¡¯t begin to fathom. A sense of unease settled over him as he tried to move back, but his body remained rooted in place, unwilling to obey.

    "My name is Eryndor, and I am the All Father''s Blade."

    The title lingered in the air, an unfamiliar weight that made Travis feel both awed and apprehensive. He stared at the man, his confusion deepening.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    He had no idea who the "All Father" was, but something about Eryndor¡¯s presence felt immense, timeless.

    "Ah," Eryndor said, his gaze softening, "it seems you lack basic knowledge. But that doesn''t matter. I''m not here to offer you a history lesson. Instead, I¡¯ve come to deliver a message."

    Travis¡¯ mind raced, but he stayed silent, waiting for the answer to his growing questions.

    "You have been chosen by me to become the wielder of that sword you hold," Eryndor continued, his voice steady but carrying a gravity that tugged at something deep within Travis.

    "Why me?" Travis asked, his voice tinged with both curiosity and doubt.

    Eryndor smiled, a knowing expression flickering across his face. "It is you who found me, of course. You¡¯ve shown yourself capable, resourceful." His tone was quiet, yet it resonated in the silence that followed. "That sword calls to you, Travis, as you are its destined bearer."

    "So... you''re just going to be my sword, or is there an end goal?" Travis asked, a hint of skepticism in his words.

    Eryndor¡¯s smile deepened, a glint of something ancient flickering in his eyes. "I like that question," he said. "You see, the answer is more complex than you might think. My purpose is not just to be wielded, but to return to my rightful place." His voice grew more solemn, as though the words carried the weight of centuries. "I fell from the High Realm a century ago, a fall so great it nearly shattered this world. The impact could have leveled everything, but I controlled my descent. I landed with less devastation, though I was exposed to the elements for many years." His gaze turned distant, as if recalling events far beyond Travis¡¯ understanding. "Over time, I became buried, hidden from the world, until today, when you unearthed me from the soil."

    Travis stood in stunned silence, trying to comprehend the enormity of what Eryndor was saying. This was no ordinary sword. It was a relic, a being of unimaginable history and significance. Eryndor was not just a weapon¡ªhe was a piece of something far greater, a fragment of a world that Travis couldn¡¯t yet fathom.

    "Okay, how do I return you to the All Father?" Travis asked, the weight of the decision pressing down on him.

    Eryndor¡¯s gaze never wavered, his voice calm and steady, as if this was something he had long anticipated. "Well, it''s simple. You just have to find the Tower. Its location isn''t a mystery. It''s situated atop the highest mountain, in the North, where the Dragons reside."

    Travis blinked, the idea of what Eryndor had just said sinking in. "You expect me to go into Dragon Territory? You know I''m not that strong, right? I''d be crushed by a newborn Dragon. I can¡¯t even fathom what an adult could do to me," he said, the skepticism in his voice clear as he tried to imagine the overwhelming odds stacked against him.

    Eryndor¡¯s expression softened, but there was no trace of doubt in his eyes. "Yes, that is true. But power is the last thing you should concern yourself with," he said, his voice deepening, carrying the weight of something ancient. "Because I alone carry more power than all the living beings in your realm combined, and that power will be yours if you take up the task. So decide." He extended his hand, an invitation not just to accept the mission, but to accept everything that came with it.

    "Will you return me to my creator?"

    Travis hesitated for a moment, his thoughts a swirling storm of doubt and fear. Yet, as his gaze fell upon the hand that reached out to him, something shifted within him. ''I honestly have nothing to lose here. Since I¡¯ve already lost it all. Guess I''ll be returning this lost sword,'' he thought, the resolve settling into his chest.

    With a determined smile, he took Eryndor''s hand. "I''ll try my best," he said, a quiet promise to himself and the being before him.

    Eryndor¡¯s smile deepened, his eyes gleaming with approval. "Good choice."

    The moment Travis made his decision, the air around him seemed to change. His heart began to pound fiercely in his chest, the beat echoing through every fiber of his being. His brain pulsed with a sharp ache, as though something was awakening deep within him, something old and powerful. His palms were slick with sweat, his fingers trembling slightly as the sensation of heat began to build beneath his feet.

    "What¡¯s happening to me?!" Travis gasped, his voice edged with panic as his body reacted to an invisible force surging through him. He looked at Eryndor, hoping for some explanation.

    Eryndor stood unmoving, a faint, knowing smile on his lips. "Well, you''re awakening, of course," he said, his tone calm, as though he had been expecting this moment all along. The words sent a shiver down Travis'' spine, and he realized, in that instant, that the path he had chosen was only the beginning of something far greater.

    TO BE CONTINUED

 Coreflow

    As the sun began to rise, its rays shone bright into Travis¡¯s face as he lay on his bed. Turning to the side to avoid the light, he felt the cold steel of the sword pressing against his cheek, startling him awake.

    ''Guess it¡¯s time to wake up,'' he thought, sitting up with a groggy sigh. He glanced down at himself, noticing his body drenched in sweat. His bed, soaked through, mirrored the restless night he¡¯d endured.

    ''Wild night and a weird dream to top it all,'' he thought, dragging himself out of bed. His gaze landed on the sword lying beside him, but this time, something caught his eye. A scabbard sat neatly next to it. He bent down, picked them both up, and slid the blade into the sheath. His hand lingered on the hilt as he muttered to himself, ''So that wasn¡¯t a dream after all.''

    ---

    In the dream, after enduring excruciating pain for what felt like an eternity, Travis felt the torment slowly subside. Relief spread through him, leaving his body trembling as he caught his breath. He glared at Eryndor, who was still smiling, calm and unwavering.

    "Don¡¯t ever do that again," he said, forcing himself to his feet despite the crushing weakness in his body.

    Eryndor¡¯s smile didn¡¯t falter. Instead, his gaze seemed to deepen, as if peering into Travis¡¯s very soul. "That is the very last time you¡¯ll feel such pain, at least inflicted by me," Eryndor said. His tone was steady, yet it carried a weight that seemed to anchor the air around them. "Do you know anything about Coreflow, Travis?" He gestured, and two chairs materialized from nowhere. He dropped into his chair with the ease of someone who had all the time in the world.

    "I was told it¡¯s the energy in your body that helps gauge your talent. I remember using it for my evaluation when I was twelve, but I¡¯ve never bothered with it since," Travis replied.

    "They¡¯re not wrong," Eryndor said, his voice measured and deliberate. "Coreflow is the primal energy system of your realm. It is the lifeblood of the planet, drawn from its molten core, its ley lines, or the universal force that binds all living and non-living things. In simpler terms, it is the essence of the sun itself. Without Coreflow, everything in your world would cease to exist."

    Travis nodded, processing the enormity of Eryndor¡¯s words. "So do you use Coreflow as well?" he asked.

    "Oh no," Eryndor said with a faint chuckle. "I am forged from something far greater than that. But that¡¯s a story for another time. Let¡¯s return to Coreflow. Within your body, there are Core Nodes. These nodes are like gateways for energy, channels where Coreflow gathers and moves. They determine how much energy you can store and how effectively you can use it. If one is weak or blocked, your flow becomes disrupted, like a river hitting a dam. But when they are strong and aligned, your power flows like an unyielding current."Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    "I¡¯ve heard of that before but never understood it," Travis admitted. "I remember someone saying there are nodes in my brain, heart, palms, and feet. Am I right?"

    "Yes, you are," Eryndor confirmed. "Those are your primary nodes. But there are countless others spread throughout your body, smaller yet just as vital. You¡¯ll only come to understand their significance when you¡¯ve attained mastery over Coreflow. For now, it is enough to focus on the basics."

    Eryndor leaned forward, his expression sharpening. "Now listen carefully, Travis. While you possess my power, you are no different. Strength is not gifted; it is earned. If you are to wield me properly, you will need to work for it. That journey begins the moment you wake." His voice softened slightly, though it carried no less conviction. "This is goodbye for now. We will meet again when you¡¯ve crossed your first milestone."

    Travis opened his mouth to respond, but the world around him suddenly dissolved into darkness. Moments later, he found himself dreaming of a peaceful life with a beautiful woman who was no longer Jessica.

    Travis carried the sword in his left hand, its weight familiar yet strangely comforting, and stepped out of the stable after gathering his bathing materials. The morning air was crisp, and the sun bathed the horizon in hues of gold and orange, casting a serene glow over the landscape. He walked down to the river, the soft crunch of his boots against the damp earth mingling with the distant calls of birds and the gentle rush of water.

    Kneeling by the riverbank, Travis dipped his hands into the cool, clear water, relishing the refreshing sensation as he began to bathe. He scrubbed himself thoroughly, the cold water washing away the remnants of sweat and fatigue clinging to his body. His thoughts, however, were far from quiet. Questions swirled in his mind¡ªabout the dream, about the sword, and about Eryndor''s cryptic words. Yet, he knew the answers wouldn¡¯t come immediately, and there was no use dwelling on them now.

    He sighed, his gaze fixed on the rippling surface of the river as his thoughts shifted to the mundane. ''Well, guess I''ll be eating at Mr. Logan¡¯s house again. I hate being a burden,'' he thought with a twinge of guilt as he rinsed off the last traces of soap.

    On his way back to the village, Travis took a moment to appreciate the scenery around him. The aftermath of the explosion had left the land surprisingly level, transforming it into an enchanting meadow teeming with wildflowers of every imaginable color. The delicate petals swayed gently in the breeze, creating a vibrant tapestry that seemed almost too beautiful to be real. He smiled to himself, taking in the world¡¯s quiet beauty, before leaping over a fence and entering the village.

    As he walked through the cobbled streets, the murmur of voices reached his ears, drawing his attention.

    "¡­heard there was a man in the fields at Logan¡¯s farm. Wonder if they caught the guy yet," a villager said, their tone laced with suspicion.

    "I heard that too. What kind of evil must he have been doing to the food? May Artol save us from him," another added, their voice filled with concern.

    Travis quickened his pace, his heart beating a little faster.

    ''I should probably hurry on to Mr. Logan¡¯s house,'' he thought, feeling a faint prickle of unease.

    Once he reached his small dwelling, he changed into clean clothes and headed toward Logan¡¯s house. The estate was a sight to behold¡ªa large, beautifully decorated home that stood proud beside the sprawling farmland. The intricate woodwork and polished stone gave it a regal air, a reflection of the family¡¯s status.

    Logan¡¯s lineage traced back to the first settlers of the area, and their farm had grown into a near-monopoly, making them one of the most influential families in the region.

    Travis approached the door, pausing to clear his throat before knocking. Moments later, the door opened, revealing a smiling woman. She was one of the assistants, her demeanor warm and welcoming.

    "Oh, Travis, do come in. The Master has been waiting for you," she said with a bright smile.

    Travis nodded, returning the gesture with a polite smile as he stepped inside. The familiar scent of roasted meats and fresh bread wafted through the air, guiding him toward the dining room. It was where he spent most of his time whenever he visited, and today was no different.

    As he entered, he saw Mr. Logan and his family seated around the large dining table, their voices a soft murmur of conversation. The sight made him pause, his throat tightening slightly as he gulped.

    ''Man, I hope it doesn¡¯t turn awkward like normal,'' he thought, steeling himself before walking further into the room.

    TO BE CONTINUED

 Working All Day

    Logan raised his head to face Travis as he walked in, his eyes lighting up with recognition. A grin spread across his weathered face as he set down his utensils, wiped his hands on a napkin, and rose to his feet with a chuckle.

    "Travis, my boy. You came!" Logan exclaimed warmly, his deep voice carrying the weight of genuine affection. He closed the gap between them in a few strides and pulled Travis into a firm embrace, the scent of wood smoke and freshly tilled earth clinging faintly to his shirt.

    "Yes," Travis replied, his voice steady but tinged with hesitance. "I thought maybe I¡¯d drop by since it¡¯s been a while."

    A sharp scoff cut through the air, drawing his attention to Jessica, who sat at the table with her arms crossed. Her expression was unimpressed, her eyes briefly flicking over him before returning to her plate.

    Logan waved off the tension without missing a beat. "Well, I¡¯m happy you came. Now, let¡¯s eat, okay? Have as much as you need," he said, gesturing for Travis to sit.

    Travis moved to the opposite side of the table, directly across from Jessica, whose expression soured further when he took his seat. Her glare didn¡¯t go unnoticed, but Travis kept his focus on Logan, though the awkwardness hung thick in the air.

    Logan¡¯s wife, Andrea, entered from the kitchen carrying a steaming dish. Her warm smile was a balm to the tension.

    "Travis, it¡¯s so good to see you again," she said, setting the plate down and briefly touching his shoulder.

    Travis returned the smile, grateful for the kindness. "Thank you, Mrs. Logan," he said softly, picking up his fork as the aroma of the food filled the room.

    Logan settled back into his chair, leaning forward slightly. "Now, Travis, I heard about your shovel breaking yesterday. Don¡¯t worry about it. You don¡¯t need to bother buying a new one. I¡¯ll give you one¡ªhell, take as many as you need," he said with a hearty chuckle.

    "Thank you, Mr. Logan. I really appreciate it," Travis said, his relief evident. "I¡¯ll start working as soon as I¡¯m done here."

    He forced a smile but couldn¡¯t help his wandering thoughts. ''The only reason I bought my own was to feel more responsible... and because I used it to help clean people¡¯s gardens.''

    Logan¡¯s eyes landed on the sword at Travis¡¯s side, his brow lifting in curiosity. "Oh? You¡¯ve got a sword now? Are you planning to become an adventurer?"

    Before Travis could answer, Jessica let out a sharp laugh, her voice dripping with mockery. "Oh, please. Don¡¯t even bother. You know how low your talent is for that, right?"

    "Jessica, don¡¯t be rude," Andrea snapped, her calm demeanor giving way to a sharp edge. "Now apologize to Travis this instant."If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Jessica sighed dramatically but muttered, "Sorry," before returning to her meal. Her glare at Travis, however, lingered like a challenge.

    Logan cleared his throat, steering the conversation back. "So, Travis, what were you going to say?"

    Travis shifted in his seat, his voice steady but quiet. "Um, yeah, I was thinking of trying it out, honestly. I know my talent isn¡¯t much, but that doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m completely useless. Even a few Gleams from kills could help me a lot."

    Andrea nodded thoughtfully, her smile returning. "That¡¯s a nice goal, Travis. I hope it works out for you."

    Logan chimed in, his curiosity piqued. "Where did you get that sword, though? It looks like it¡¯s high quality."

    Panic flared in Travis¡¯s mind. ''Think of a lie!''

    He cleared his throat, plastering on a sheepish grin. "Oh, uh, I found it in the river when I went for a bath last night. Couldn¡¯t believe it myself, but I guess someone must¡¯ve thrown it away for some reason."

    Logan raised a brow. "Peculiar. Probably belonged to an adventurer. Well, I hope it serves you well. Maybe you¡¯ll join Jessica¡¯s group when you¡¯re strong enough. Did you hear about that?"

    Travis shook his head. "No, I didn¡¯t."

    "Jessica, tell him about it," Logan said, his tone firm.

    Jessica groaned, slouching in her seat. "But, Daddy, I don¡¯t want to."

    "Jessica," Logan warned, his glare cutting off any further protests.

    She huffed, her voice flat with disinterest. "Fine. Me, Sora, and Alissa started an adventuring group."

    Travis smiled faintly. "That¡¯s nice. I hope it goes well for you guys."

    Jessica¡¯s frown deepened. She abruptly stood, brushing crumbs from her dress. "I¡¯m going to meet them now. Thanks for breakfast," she said curtly before storming out, leaving the room in tense silence.

    Logan sighed, shaking his head. "She¡¯s a good girl, you know. I just don¡¯t understand why she¡¯s so against you. Have you done anything to upset her?"

    Travis shook his head, rising to his feet. "No Not anything I can remember. Well, I should get going. Thank you for the meal¡ªit was really kind of you." He bowed politely and made his way to the door.

    Logan watched him leave, the weight of unspoken thoughts settling in his gaze. "He really is like his father, isn¡¯t he?"

    Andrea smiled softly. "I think he¡¯s more like his mother. Calm, measured... you¡¯d think he had the whole world at his feet."

    Logan nodded, his expression thoughtful. "You really would."

    .....

    Travis went ahead and threw himself into the work, picking up right where he left off yesterday. He labored with focus, his hands moving swiftly as he hauled, lifted, and hammered under the unforgiving glare of the scorching sun. Sweat should have dripped from his brow, his muscles should have ached, but instead, he felt a strange energy coursing through him. Each movement felt lighter, each breath fuller. It was as though the heat only served to fuel him, rejuvenating him with every task completed. No matter how hard he pushed himself, exhaustion never came.

    At first, he was baffled, stopping briefly to flex his fingers and glance at his arms, expecting some sign of strain. But then he remembered Eryndor''s words from yesterday: "Awakening." The memory lingered in his mind like a half-formed question. He didn¡¯t fully understand what Eryndor had meant, but whatever it was, it seemed to have changed him. He resolved to figure it out later¡ªafter work.

    By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of amber and purple, Travis had finished his tasks. The tools were neatly set aside, and the day''s work stood as a testament to his effort. Collecting his pay, he left without so much as a glance behind.

    ''Sooner or later, I''ll have to quit that job if I plan on becoming an adventurer,'' he thought as his boots scuffed against the dirt road.

    The idea of adventure tugged at his mind, a mixture of excitement and uncertainty. He needed to get stronger, that much he knew. But how? His goal was clear, but the path ahead was shrouded in fog. Still, he clenched his fists, his resolve hardening. He¡¯d figure it out, step by step.

    As he walked, deep in thought, a familiar voice snapped him back to reality. He looked up to see Jessica, flanked by her two friends, Alissa and Sora. The three of them stood a few paces away, their faces lit up with teasing smiles that only spelled trouble.

    Jessica¡¯s piercing gaze met his, her smile widening as if she already knew exactly how to get under his skin. Alissa and Sora on the other hand simply stared at him blankly.

    ''Oh, bother,'' he thought, bracing himself.

    TO BE CONTINUED

 Guild Association

    "So, Travis, you''re back from the crop fields. How was it?" Jessica¡¯s voice cut through the evening air, laced with a teasing edge as her lips curled into a smirk. Her tone was light, but her eyes held that familiar glint of mischief that always left him on edge.

    Travis slowed his pace, briefly meeting her gaze before looking past her. "It was alright," he replied curtly, his voice steady but his impatience evident.

    "I''m in a bit of a hurry now. Can we talk later?" Without waiting for a response, he brushed past them, determined to avoid whatever trouble they had in store.

    Before he could take more than a few steps, a firm hand clamped down on his shoulder, halting him in his tracks. The grip was unyielding, and Travis turned his head slightly to see Sora standing behind him, his face twisted into a mocking grin.

    "Aren''t you being a bit rude?" Sora asked, his voice low and deliberately taunting. His fingers tightened their hold, pressing into Travis''s shoulder with a force that made him wince. "She asked you nicely."

    Travis grit his teeth, trying to shrug off the hold, but it was no use. Sora¡¯s strength was overwhelming, and no matter how much Travis struggled, the grip only seemed to grow tighter. Pain shot through his shoulder, making his jaw clench as he glared at the taller boy.

    "Don''t bother with him, Sora," Jessica chimed in, her tone dismissive as she flicked her hair over her shoulder. "He''s not worth our time. Let¡¯s go. We need to cash in these Cores before the guild closes." Her words dripped with arrogance, her attention already shifting elsewhere.

    Sora held his grip for a moment longer, as if savoring Travis¡¯s discomfort, before finally letting go. He took a step back but didn¡¯t miss the chance to glare at him, his dark eyes narrowing with disdain. Then, just as Travis thought it was over, Sora leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper.

    "I''m banging your crush," he muttered, just loud enough for Travis to hear.

    Travis stiffened, his hands curling into fists at his sides, but he refused to give Sora the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, he kept his gaze steady, his silence the only response he could muster.

    Sora chuckled darkly and turned away, slipping an arm around Alissa and Jessica¡¯s shoulders with ease. He even gave them a playful tug on their cheeks, earning lighthearted giggles from both girls. Travis watched them stroll off, Sora¡¯s laughter trailing behind them as they disappeared down the road.

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Exhaling sharply, Travis shook his head, the tension in his body slowly ebbing away.

    ''Not worth it,'' he told himself, turning away from the scene. He had better things to focus on, bigger problems to solve. With steady steps, he made his way back to the stables, where his modest bed awaited him.

    The familiar scent of hay and the soft rustle of the horses greeted him as he stepped inside. He threw himself onto the rough mattress, the exhaustion of the day finally creeping in. Yet, even as his body relaxed, his mind raced. He needed to grow stronger, to become someone who wouldn¡¯t be shoved around so easily.

    Lying on his back, he stared up at the ceiling, the dim light of the lantern casting faint shadows. ''There has to be a way,'' he thought, his determination flaring despite the ache in his shoulder. Ideas swirled in his head¡ªtraining, seeking guidance, or even learning more about this "Awakening" Eryndor had mentioned.

    Eventually, the weight of the day caught up to him, and his thoughts began to blur. His eyelids grew heavy, and as he drifted off to sleep, one single thought lingered in his mind: I won¡¯t stay weak forever.

    ....

    When morning came, the first rays of sunlight filtered through the wooden beams of the stables, casting a golden glow over Travis¡¯s makeshift room. He pushed himself up from his straw-filled mattress, shaking off the remnants of sleep. Today was different. He had the day off, and he already knew how he wanted to spend it. His mind was set on heading to the guild for another evaluation.

    The only catch? He needed money.

    Travis glanced around the stable, his gaze settling on a haystack in the corner. With deliberate steps, he walked over, crouching down and plunging his hand into the scratchy pile. After a few seconds of digging, his fingers closed around a small, worn pouch. He pulled it out and loosened the string, the faint jingle of coins echoing in the quiet morning air.

    Opening the pouch, he couldn¡¯t help but grin.

    ''I¡¯m sure this will be enough,'' he thought as he eyed the contents.

    Inside were 50 Gleams¡ªmonths¡¯ worth of savings from his long days in the fields and the odd jobs he¡¯d taken on for the village folk. It wasn¡¯t a fortune, but it was his, earned through sweat and persistence. Enough to pay for the evaluation and even get him a ride to the next town by carriage if needed.

    Still, a small pang of reluctance hit him as he fingered the coins. This money had been set aside for something bigger, something more permanent. He¡¯d dreamed of using it to find a better place to live, away from the cramped and drafty stables.

    But then he shook his head, resolve hardening in his chest.

    ''I don¡¯t plan on staying here any longer. I just need to make sure I¡¯m at least ready enough to survive in this world,'' he reminded himself.

    Survival and strength mattered more than comfort right now.

    Travis tucked the pouch securely into his belt and stepped outside, feeling the crisp morning breeze brush against his skin. The village was just beginning to stir, and the sound of roosters crowing echoed in the distance as he made his way toward the Guild Association.

    The Guild Association wasn¡¯t just a local establishment; it was a cornerstone of life across Ashvenmoor. A sprawling, world-wide organization that managed adventurers and their exploits, it served as the backbone of countless towns and villages. Their reach was undeniable, with guild stations planted in almost every corner of the world, no matter how small or remote.

    For adventurers, the guild was a lifeline. It provided resources, connections, and most importantly, jobs. Anyone in need of assistance¡ªbe it protecting their lands, gathering rare materials, or dealing with dangerous creatures¡ªcould post a request to the guild. These jobs were categorized by Class, a ranking system that determined the difficulty and pay. The higher the Class, the more dangerous the job, but also the more lucrative the reward.

    Travis had spent enough time around adventurers to know the guild¡¯s reputation. It was a place of opportunity, but it was also fiercely competitive. People of all kinds passed through its doors, from seasoned veterans to fresh-faced rookies. Those who thrived within the system could carve out a name for themselves, while those who failed often disappeared into obscurity¡ªor worse.

    As the guild building came into view, a sturdy structure of stone and timber with the guild¡¯s emblem hanging above its doors, Travis felt a flicker of anticipation in his chest. He didn¡¯t know what the future held, but today would be another step toward finding out.

    TO BE CONTINUED

 Talent System

    As he stepped into the guild, the atmosphere hit him with the force of a storm. The place hummed with life, every corner alive with movement, noise, and purpose. Adventurers filled the spacious hall, their presence a vivid tapestry of different races, backgrounds, and personalities.

    Some were draped in gleaming full-body armor, their polished steel catching the light in flashes of brilliance, while others were barely covered, their lithe bodies wrapped in cloaks that whispered secrets of shadowed movements. There was an unmistakable tension in the air, a vibrant energy that told stories of countless battles, journeys, and feats accomplished. The smell of sharpened blades, sweat, and faint traces of magic lingered in the air.

    Travis'' eyes darted around, instinctively sizing up the room. He could already tell who the strong were and who were still learning the ropes. The seasoned adventurers moved with purpose, their every step calculated. They weren''t just dressed for battle; their gear bore the marks of real combat, tested and refined by time and trial. It wasn¡¯t just the materials that made their armor impressive¡ªit was the quiet confidence in their posture, the way they commanded respect without speaking a word. There was something raw and powerful about them, an unspoken promise of danger and experience.

    The rookies, on the other hand, were easier to spot. They fidgeted nervously, exchanging uncertain glances, their gear new and unscuffed, their movements still carrying that slight hesitation of those who had yet to face the horrors of the world outside the guild walls.

    But there was also something vibrant about them¡ªhope, determination, and the promise of growth. In the midst of it all, Travis couldn¡¯t help but feel both an excitement and an undercurrent of nerves. The guild wasn¡¯t just a place to belong¡ªit was a challenge, a proving ground where one¡¯s worth would be determined, not just by what you wore or who you were but by what you could do.

    He watched as small groups of adventurers sat at tables on the second floor, their voices rising in a casual rhythm as they spoke of monsters to slay, lands to conquer, and the thrill of unknown battles.

    Their laughter filled the room, and there was a sense of camaraderie in the air. These were not just colleagues; they were friends, allies, bound together by their shared pursuit of adventure. Some chatted animatedly over steaming bowls of food, their faces lit with excitement as they relived the day¡¯s victories and shared tips for the next challenge.

    Nearby, a group had gathered around the mission board. Eyes flickered from one parchment to the next, calculating the risks and rewards of each job. Their collective focus was palpable, a shared fire that could ignite ambition in even the most uncertain of hearts. There were jobs for every level¡ªmonster hunts, treasure retrievals, even high-risk contracts that promised riches for those brave enough to face the unknown.

    In the midst of all this, Travis felt a surprising sense of calm. The chaos, the noise, the endless flow of adventurers¡ªit should have been overwhelming, but instead, it was invigorating. There was a rhythm here, an underlying pulse that spoke to him on a deeper level. It was a place for those who wanted more than a quiet life. It was a place where destinies were forged and changed, where the ordinary became extraordinary.

    ¡®Alright. I should probably go follow that line before it gets any longer. Man, it¡¯s so long and the day just started,¡¯ Travis thought, pulling himself out of his reverie.

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    The line stretched ahead of him, winding its way to the counter. Each passing moment felt heavier with anticipation. He shuffled forward, mind whirling as he tried to steady his nerves. He had been waiting for this moment for years, but now that it was here, his stomach twisted in a knot.

    When he finally reached the counter, a woman behind it greeted him with practiced ease, her voice smooth and professional. "Hey, my name is Glenda. How may I help you today?"

    Travis took a breath to steady himself, trying to ignore the sudden wave of anxiety that hit him. "Oh, I¡¯d like to get my evaluation and sign up as an adventurer, please."

    "Okay, please step to the side. I¡¯ll get someone to help with that. Thank you," Glenda replied, her tone warm but efficient. She gestured to a nearby corner where other adventurers were waiting their turn. Travis nodded, murmuring a quiet thanks as he moved to stand with the others.

    The time in line stretched on. People came and went, some walking with the confident swagger of veterans, while others stepped forward nervously, faces painted with a mix of excitement and uncertainty. Travis couldn¡¯t help but observe them. Each face told a different story, but all were driven by the same goal: to be more than they were today.

    Soon, another guild employee approached him, a man with a clipboard, and motioned for him to follow. He led Travis through a series of narrow hallways to a small, private room where a gleaming orb sat on a pedestal, bathed in soft light. The orb was simple in design but held an almost otherworldly aura, as if it had witnessed countless stories of greatness¡ªor failure.

    "30 Gleams for the evaluation," the man said, holding out a pouch. Travis handed over the coins with a quiet clink, the sound of each one slipping from his hand almost reverberating in his chest.

    Standing before the orb, Travis took a slow breath. This was the moment. The one he had been waiting for. The system was simple: the color of the orb¡¯s light would reveal his talent, his potential. He recalled the time long ago when he''d stood in the same spot, a nervous child, only for the orb to glow orange¡ªa low talent, the kind of result that made the orphanage boys laugh.

    The ritual had become a rite of passage, something everyone went through. The orb¡¯s color would determine everything about their future.

    Orange - Low Talent

    Green - Mid Talent

    Blue - High Talent

    Red - King''s Talent

    Purple - Emperor¡¯s Talent

    The memory of the orange glow still stung. ''I was just a kid... I didn¡¯t understand what it meant back then,'' he thought. But now... now, it was different. He was older. Stronger. Better.

    "Sir, may I ask what talent you received in your first evaluation?" the examiner¡¯s voice cut through his thoughts.

    "It was Low Talent. Why do you ask?"

    "Well, now that you''re older, your Coreflow is more concentrated. When you transfer your energy, you¡¯ll need to focus all of it. Don¡¯t worry, we have potions for any withdrawal symptoms. Just use all your strength, alright?"

    Travis nodded, swallowing the unease that still lingered. He extended his hand toward the orb, his thoughts focused. He imagined the Coreflow surging from his heart, the node in his mind directing the flow down to his palm. As the energy began to move, the orb vibrated, its surface glowing in response.

    The light flickered at first¡ªgreen, then blue¡ªand Travis¡¯s heart leaped. The orb¡¯s light intensified, and he couldn¡¯t help the smile that stretched across his face. ''Blue. High Talent. Yes!'' he thought, elation bubbling in his chest. But just as quickly as it had appeared, the light flickered again¡ªjust a brief, almost imperceptible flash of purple.

    For a moment, his breath caught in his throat.'' Was it? No. '' He blinked and the light steadied back to blue.

    ¡°Maybe I¡¯m just hungry,¡± he thought, brushing the moment aside. He withdrew his hand, taking a deep breath.

    The examiner handed him a set of papers, and Travis scanned them quickly. His stomach dropped as his eyes traced the numbers.

    Name: Travis

    Age: 16

    Level: 0

    Stats:

    Strength: 3

    Speed: 4

    Stamina: 7

    ¡®Is that it?¡¯ he thought, disappointment settling in. He had expected more. All those grueling hours of working at the fields, all the effort he had put... and this was the result? He couldn¡¯t help but feel a pang of frustration. ''I thought they¡¯d be better...''

    But then again, this was only the beginning. ''I guess this is just the start,'' he reassured himself, the words dull but comforting.

    After completing the necessary paperwork, Travis signed up officially as an adventurer. The test was straightforward, and he passed it with relative ease. His class assignment followed swiftly: Class E¡ªhumble, but a starting point.

    The wooden adventurer¡¯s card felt solid in his hand, surprisingly weighty for something so simple. The insignia of the guild was etched into the surface, marking the first step in his journey. He smiled, despite the disappointment, and slipped the card into his pocket.

    ''Should I look for a job?'' he thought, gazing at the bustling mission board. The possibilities were endless, each job a new path to walk, a new story to shape. He took a step forward, ready to embrace whatever came next.

    TO BE CONTINUED

 Weak

    As he tried to board, two figures suddenly stepped into his path, blocking his way. Travis stopped in his tracks, his brows furrowing as confusion swept over him.

    "May I help you?" he asked, his voice carrying a mix of politeness and uncertainty.

    The pair exchanged knowing glances before one of them¡ªa broad-shouldered man with a sly grin¡ªspoke. "Of course, you may. But let''s talk outside," he said, his tone deceptively casual.

    Before Travis could respond, they grabbed him by the arms, their grip firm as they dragged him outside. His protests died in his throat as he realized he lacked the strength to resist. The tavern¡¯s patrons barely reacted, sparing only brief glances before shaking their heads.

    "Those two are at it again, aren¡¯t they?" an older adventurer muttered, sipping his drink.

    "Yep. Got themselves a rookie this time. Poor kid. Even better for them, though," another replied, shrugging.

    A younger man, new to the area, frowned and asked, "Who are they?"

    "The Gear Snatchers," someone replied, their voice low. "They prey on rookies. Best advice? Don¡¯t flash anything valuable around here unless you want trouble."

    ---

    In a narrow alley, Travis found himself shoved against a cold, damp wall. The rough stone bit into his back as one of his captors stepped closer, eyeing him like a predator cornering its prey.

    "Nice sword you got there," said the first man, his grin revealing crooked teeth. His name was Bob. "Wanna sell it to me?"

    "Yeah, sell it to us. We''ve got the money," the second man, Hobbs, added, jingling a pouch of coins in one hand as he loomed closer.

    Travis shook his head, his jaw tightening. "It''s not for sale," he said firmly, trying to edge away. "Now, if you¡¯ll excuse me, I need to¡ª"

    Hobbs slammed him back against the wall, his voice turning cold. "Well, if you¡¯re not gonna sell it willingly, you¡¯ll sell it forcefully." He drew a short, jagged blade and pressed the tip against Travis¡¯s throat. The steel was icy against his skin, sending a chill down his spine.

    Travis clenched his fists, every instinct screaming at him to fight back, but his body refused to move. Gritting his teeth, he let out a resigned sigh as they pried the sword from his grasp. They tossed a small bag of coins at his feet, mocking him with their smug expressions before disappearing into the shadows.

    He stared down at the bag, his shoulders slumping. A frown darkened his face as bitterness welled up in his chest.

    ''Why can¡¯t I ever win?'' he thought, his heart heavy as he trudged back to his cramped living quarters.

    The journey felt endless, each step weighed down by frustration and shame. His mind replayed the scene over and over, tormenting him with thoughts of what could have been. If he had been stronger¡ªif he had even a fraction of the power others wielded¡ªthings would¡¯ve been different.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    If only he wasn¡¯t weak. If only he wasn¡¯t... him.

    ''The weak have no words,'' he thought bitterly, his hands curling into fists.

    When he finally reached home, the sight of his worn mattress only deepened his despair. He sank onto it, the fabric creaking beneath his weight, and stared blankly at the cracked ceiling. His mind churned with regret and anger, not just at the Gear Snatchers, but at himself.

    He couldn¡¯t live like this anymore. Something had to change.

    Taking a deep breath, he pushed himself to his feet. His hands trembled, but his eyes burned with a newfound resolve.

    "I''m fed up with being weak," he said aloud, his voice breaking the silence of the room.

    He glanced at his empty scabbard, a stark reminder of his humiliation. Though the desire to reclaim his sword burned within him, he knew rushing after those men would only lead to another failure. He wasn¡¯t ready¡ªnot yet.

    If he wanted to change his fate, there was only one path forward. He had to grow stronger. No shortcuts. No excuses.

    Travis squared his shoulders, determination hardening his expression. He¡¯d train. He¡¯d fight. And one day, he¡¯d make sure no one could ever take anything from him again.

    ....

    Travis stood in the middle of the dense woods, the sunlight barely filtering through the thick canopy above. The air was cool, crisp, and filled with the scent of earth and bark. His breaths were steady but determined as he gazed at the towering trees surrounding him. This was his makeshift training ground, a sanctuary where he¡¯d forge himself into something greater.

    He clenched his fists, his knuckles already raw from days of practice. In front of him stood a thick oak, its rough bark daring him to strike.

    ''Start simple. Break the tree,'' he told himself, planting his feet firmly into the soil.

    He pulled his fist back, then drove it forward with all his strength. The impact sent a sharp jolt of pain up his arm, but he ignored it. He hit the tree again. And again. His strikes lacked finesse at first, his movements fueled by raw frustration more than precision. Splinters began to lodge into his skin, but he refused to stop.

    Minutes turned into hours, and soon the bark began to crack, small chunks falling away. His knuckles bled freely now, staining the wood with streaks of red. The pain was overwhelming, but Travis saw it as a reminder of how far he had to go.

    '' Not done yet,'' he thought, gritting his teeth.

    He stepped back and assessed the tree. The cracks he¡¯d created were growing, but the trunk still stood strong. With a deep breath, he adjusted his stance and began experimenting with his punches. Some were straight and focused; others came from different angles. He noticed that hitting the same spot repeatedly weakened the wood faster, and he began to incorporate this tactic into his strikes.

    When he finally broke through the tree, it wasn¡¯t from brute strength alone¡ªit was from strategy. He¡¯d chipped away at its foundation until it had no choice but to fall. As it toppled with a thunderous crash, Travis stepped aside, sweat dripping from his brow. His arms burned, his hands were a mess of blood and dirt, but a small smile tugged at his lips.

    ---

    After tending to his wounds with bandages and wrapping them tightly, Travis moved on to the next part of his training. He gathered fallen branches and sharpened their ends with a small knife. Then, he set up crude targets¡ªlarge rocks, hanging vines, and distant tree trunks.

    ¡®If I can¡¯t overpower them, I¡¯ll outthink them,¡¯ he decided, tying the targets at varying heights.

    He practiced hurling the sharpened sticks with precision, focusing on hitting the smallest possible areas. At first, his aim was wild, the branches either bouncing off or missing entirely. But as the days passed, he began to understand the mechanics of his throws. He adjusted his grip, his stance, and the angle of his arm. Soon, he could land a stick squarely in the center of a target with ease.

    To simulate fighting more than one opponent, he set up moving targets by tying branches to swinging ropes. He ran, dodged, and spun through the forest, throwing his makeshift weapons while evading the swinging branches. His movements grew sharper, more fluid, as he trained his reflexes to react quickly and effectively.

    ---

    For strength and endurance, he devised challenges using the natural terrain. He climbed trees, using only his hands and feet to reach the highest branches. He carried heavy rocks across the forest floor, balancing them on his shoulders. He even submerged himself in the frigid river, holding his breath and forcing his muscles to adapt to the cold.

    When night fell, he lit a small fire and reviewed his progress. He¡¯d etched a rough map of his surroundings into the dirt, marking areas he could use for different kinds of training.

    ---

    One morning, as he stared at another towering tree, an idea struck him. He collected thick vines and used them to create an obstacle course. He climbed, swung, and leapt through the air, imagining himself dodging blows and outmaneuvering enemies. When he stumbled or fell, he got back up and tried again until his body memorized every movement.

    After a week of relentless training, Travis stood in the clearing, looking at his hands. The skin had toughened, the scars a testament to his efforts. His punches now carried weight and precision, his aim was deadly, and his body had become leaner, stronger, and faster.

    He turned back to the fallen trees and the sharpened sticks scattered around him. It wasn¡¯t enough to be strong¡ªhe had to be smart. He had to be ready for the cunning of his enemies. And when the time came, he¡¯d face them not as the weak boy they had mocked, but as someone who had earned his strength.

    Travis took a deep breath and closed his eyes. For the first time in a long while, hope stirred in his chest.

    This was just the beginning.

    TO BE CONTINUED

 Victory

    Travis rose from his bed, his body still sore from the relentless training he¡¯d endured over the past week. His feet dragged slightly as he made his way to the water jug by the corner, pouring himself a cup to calm his nerves. He took slow, deliberate sips, his gaze fixed on the horses in the stable, their eyes following his every movement. They were silent witnesses to his restless pacing, the tension rolling off him like a storm.

    He hadn¡¯t gone to work for over a week now, and the thought of explaining that to Mr. Logan made his stomach churn. The man wasn¡¯t known for his patience, but Travis tried to brush off the guilt. He had a reason¡ªa damn good one¡ªand for once, he didn¡¯t feel bad about putting this above everything else.

    He sighed, setting the cup down as he leaned against the wooden post. Today was the day. The day he¡¯d get his sword back.

    He tightened his fists, feeling the raw edges of his palms, a painful reminder of the training he¡¯d endured. Images flashed in his mind¡ªsplintered bark beneath his fists, branches breaking under his kicks, and dirt kicked up from hours of footwork. He¡¯d prepared, even if his body wasn¡¯t as strong as theirs. He didn¡¯t think he was ready¡ªnot yet¡ªbut he wasn¡¯t walking into this blindly. Not this time.

    ''If there¡¯s a will, there¡¯s a way,'' he reminded himself, exhaling deeply as he straightened up.

    He dressed quickly, pulling on his worn boots and throwing on his coat, the weight of the day already bearing down on his shoulders. Leaving the stable, he found a nearby restaurant and sat down for a quick meal. His eyes scanned the room as he picked at his food, his mind racing with thoughts of what was about to happen.

    He began mapping out scenarios in his head, running through every possible outcome. He remembered the cramped alleyways of the district¡ªtight spaces, uneven ground, sharp edges of stone walls. He thought about how to control the space, how to use the environment to his advantage. No matter how he played it, the results were grim. In every scenario, he either ended up severely injured or worse.

    ''But at least I¡¯ll have done something instead of nothing,'' he thought, his resolve hardening as he forced down the rest of his meal.

    After paying the bill, Travis stepped out into the street. The sunlight felt heavy on his skin, and as he stood there, it hit him¡ªhe didn¡¯t even know where they lived.

    ''Fuck,'' he thought, shaking his head. ''Guess I¡¯ll have to look around.''

    ---

    An hour of searching later, he spotted them. Bob and Hobbs were strolling down the street like they owned the place, laughing obnoxiously as they went. What caught his eye most was his sword, now slung casually over Hobbs¡¯s shoulder as if it were a trophy. The sight of it made Travis¡¯s blood boil.

    Gritting his teeth, he marched toward them, his heart pounding harder with every step.

    ¡°Yo!¡± he called out, his voice sharp and deliberate.

    The two turned in perfect sync, their smug grins widening as they recognized him.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    ¡°Well, if it isn¡¯t our favorite customer,¡± Hobbs said, tapping the blade against the ground like a cane. ¡°How you been? Spent all that money already? You¡¯re glowing. Don¡¯t tell me¡ªyou hit up the brothels with it, huh?¡± He laughed, the sound grating on Travis¡¯s nerves.

    Beside him, Bob snickered like a fool, his laughter high-pitched and irritating. The sound fueled Travis¡¯s anger, his fists clenching involuntarily at his sides.

    ¡°Yeah, about that,¡± Travis said, his voice cold. ¡°I¡¯ve got a complaint. Let¡¯s talk about it in that alley over there.¡± He jerked his head toward a narrow passage between two tall buildings.

    The two exchanged amused glances before Hobbs replied, his tone dripping with mock courtesy. ¡°Of course. What kind of gentlemen would we be if we didn¡¯t listen to our favorite customer?¡±

    Bob chuckled again. ¡°Lead the way, boss.¡±

    They turned and began walking toward the alley, their movements casual and unhurried. Travis followed a few steps behind, his eyes burning holes into their backs as he clenched his jaw.

    As they stepped into the shadowed alley, the air seemed to grow heavier. Bob and Hobbs moved ahead of him, their posture relaxed, their confidence oozing out of them. Travis slowed his pace, glancing briefly at the scuff marks along the walls and the uneven cobblestones beneath their feet.

    He imagined every possible move he could make, every strike he¡¯d need to land. The narrow alley forced them into a line, limiting how they could move.

    ''I have no reason to be honorable,'' he thought, shifting his stance slightly. ''Especially not in a fight where I could die before I even get the chance to fight back. Let¡¯s just get this over with.''

    He exhaled, steadying himself as his steps echoed softly against the cobblestones. The time for thinking was over. Now, it was time to act.

    The moment they entered the alley, Travis slowed his steps, watching Bob and Hobbs turn to face him. The sword rested lazily on Hobbs¡¯s shoulder, the smug grin on his face making Travis¡¯s blood boil.

    ¡°So, what¡¯s your complaint, huh? Not enough coin for your liking?¡± Hobbs said, tilting his head mockingly.

    Travis didn¡¯t answer. Instead, he reached into his coat pocket, feeling the small pouch he¡¯d prepared earlier. His breathing slowed, steady and deliberate. This wasn¡¯t about brute strength. He couldn¡¯t win that way¡ªnot against them.

    ¡°Well, come on, speak up,¡± Hobbs continued, stepping closer, his boots crunching against the cobblestones.

    Travis waited until Hobbs was within arm¡¯s reach before flicking his wrist, tossing a handful of crushed red pepper into the man¡¯s face. Hobbs let out a guttural yell, stumbling back as his hands flew to his burning eyes.

    Bob reacted immediately, lunging forward. Travis dodged to the side, his movements sharp. Bob¡¯s fist missed, slamming into the alley wall instead. Before Bob could recover, Travis ducked low and swept his leg across the man¡¯s shins. Bob fell hard onto his back with a pained grunt.

    Not giving him time to recover, Travis grabbed a sharpened stick from his belt. He jabbed it toward Bob¡¯s shoulder, stopping just short of making contact. Bob flinched, instinctively rolling to the side and exposing his ribs. Travis took the opening, slamming his foot into Bob¡¯s side.

    Hobbs, meanwhile, had wiped his face enough to see and charged with a roar. Travis darted toward the alley wall, leaping up and using it to propel himself over Hobbs¡¯s swing. He landed behind him and struck the back of Hobbs¡¯s knee with the flat of the stick, sending the larger man stumbling forward.

    Hobbs spun around, his face twisted in fury, and lunged again. This time, Travis sidestepped, maneuvering him toward a small patch of loose ground he¡¯d prepared earlier. As Hobbs¡¯s boot hit the uneven surface, his ankle twisted, and he fell to one knee.

    ¡°Damn it!¡± Hobbs cursed, trying to push himself up.

    Travis didn¡¯t hesitate. He grabbed a hanging vine he¡¯d tied to the side of the building earlier and swung it toward Hobbs¡¯s face. The thick rope smacked into the man¡¯s nose, drawing a pained yell and forcing him back down.

    Bob, now recovered, rushed at Travis from behind. Travis turned just in time, ducking under the wild punch and driving his shoulder into Bob¡¯s chest. The force sent Bob stumbling into Hobbs, the two crashing into a heap on the ground.

    Breathing hard, Travis grabbed his sword where it had fallen during the scuffle. He gripped it tightly, his knuckles white, and pointed the blade toward them.

    ¡°Still think this is funny?¡± Travis said, his voice cold and steady despite the burn in his lungs.

    The two men hesitated. Bob was clutching his side, and Hobbs¡¯s face was a mess of sweat, dirt, and blood. They glanced at each other, the confidence in their eyes replaced with unease.

    ¡°Fine, fine,¡± Hobbs muttered, raising his hands. ¡°You win, kid. Take your damn sword.¡±

    Bob muttered something under his breath, but Hobbs grabbed his arm and hauled him to his feet. Without another word, they staggered out of the alley, their bruised pride evident in every step.

    Travis leaned against the wall, his legs trembling. His body ached from the effort, but he¡¯d done it. Everything he¡¯d trained for, all the hours spent in the woods¡ªit had paid off.

    As he stared at the blade in his hand, a faint smile tugged at his lips. He¡¯d fought smarter, not harder. For the first time in a long while, he felt like he¡¯d earned this victory.

    With the sword now secure, he straightened up and began the slow walk home, already planning what he¡¯d need to improve on next.

    TO BE CONTINUED

 Changing Form

    As Travis stepped out of the alley, his body aching and his breaths uneven, there was a glint of grim satisfaction in his eyes. The sword, his sword, was finally back in his hands, its familiar weight almost grounding him after the chaos of the fight. He wiped the sweat from his brow, glancing back briefly at the narrow alley that had served as his battlefield.

    Last night, he had spent hours pacing in his dimly lit room, turning over every detail in his mind. The alley had been part of his plan from the start¡ªa space too cramped for wide swings or overwhelming strength to dominate. It was a place that would force Hobbs and Bob to rely on precision rather than brute force, a weakness Travis knew he could exploit.

    He had even considered the uneven cobblestones, recalling how they could easily cause a misstep in the heat of battle. He thought back to his training, how he had deliberately practiced fighting in confined spaces, striking quickly and retreating to dodge imaginary counters. Every punch, every bruise, every drop of sweat had been in preparation for moments like this.

    The fight hadn¡¯t gone perfectly¡ªhis throbbing side and torn sleeve were proof of that¡ªbut Travis had stuck to his plan. He¡¯d stayed unpredictable, forcing the two into awkward positions where their strength meant nothing. Every movement he made had been calculated to turn their confidence against them.

    Now, as he walked back onto the bustling street, sword in hand, the tension in his shoulders eased ever so slightly. The night of planning, the week of brutal training¡ªit had all been worth it. For the first time in a long while, Travis felt like he¡¯d finally outsmarted the odds stacked against him.

    ....

    In the quiet stillness of the night, Travis lay asleep on his bed, his breathing steady and deep. As his mind drifted into slumber, the familiar dream began to unfold, just like it had so many times before. But this time, there was no rush of panic. He simply waited, calm and expectant, for Eryndor to appear.

    The vast white expanse stretched out endlessly around him, a blank canvas of nothingness. He stood alone, yet not for long. In an instant, Eryndor materialized before him, his presence as undeniable as ever. Without a word, Eryndor flicked his wrist, summoning chairs to appear out of thin air. They were simple, but solid, the kind of chairs that could only come from the hand of a sword spirit who had mastered the art of creation.

    They sat across from each other, the quiet settling between them like an old, familiar companion.

    "Yo," Eryndor greeted him, the simple word carrying an unmistakable sense of amusement.

    Travis gave a small smile. "You seem quite happy. I guess all those grueling nights of punching trees have paid off," Eryndor said, his smirk obvious even without a face to frame it.

    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    Travis raised an eyebrow. "Yes they were. Wait, how do you know about that?"

    Eryndor¡¯s voice became almost teasing. "Well, you do know that only you can wield me, Travis. What do you think that means?"

    Travis paused, his gaze narrowing with suspicion. "It''s pretty straightforward, I guess. So please, get to the point."

    Eryndor leaned back slightly, enjoying the moment. "It means the sword is yours and it recognizes you¡ªand only you¡ªas its master."

    "Why are you speaking in third person?" Travis asked, now genuinely confused.

    " Dramatic effect," Eryndor replied smoothly.

    "Oh," Travis said, his confusion fading as he nodded in understanding.

    "Now," Eryndor continued, "that gives you many advantages. The first one being, no one can steal the sword. Because if they did, it would return back to you, either way. You just had to call for it, and it would come back in a second, like a servant attending to his master."

    Travis scoffed, his frustration creeping back in. "How would I know that if you don''t tell me? I guess I was supposed to smell it in the air." He sighed. "Oh well, it doesn¡¯t matter anymore. I fought for my life to get you back. I at least expect a ''Thank you.''"

    Eryndor paused, as if considering his words. "Travis, I think maybe I should change forms."

    "What?" Travis¡¯s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but before he could say more, a blinding light flared in front of him. He snapped his eyes shut, shielding them from the sudden brilliance.

    When the light finally simmered down, Travis opened his eyes again, only to find that the figure before him had changed. No longer was Eryndor the form of a man. Instead, she now appeared as a woman, her presence radiating an almost ethereal beauty.

    She wore a flowing white dress, the fabric shimmering like moonlight. Her long, silvery white hair cascaded down her back in gentle waves, and her bright blue eyes seemed to pierce through the void with a gaze that was both serene and powerful. Her smile, soft yet radiant, made Travis''s heart race in his chest, his breath momentarily hitching.

    Eryndor chuckled, her voice laced with amusement. "I guess this form is better for a young boy like you. Don''t worry, I am neither man nor woman. I am, in fact, just a sword spirit."

    "Um, okay. Is your name still Eryndor?" Travis asked, still taken aback by her transformation.

    "Yes, it is. I could never change my name. My creator gave it to me himself," she said, her tone warm, though there was a hint of nostalgia. She smiled again, her gaze softening. "I am proud of your ambition to save me. I never thought you''d grow through such a challenge just to get me back. It honestly warms my heart."

    Her voice was like a melody, each word filled with warmth and sincerity. Travis, caught off guard by the emotion behind it, found himself at a loss for words. He simply stared at her, entranced by the beauty of her presence.

    ''Oh, I must be too beautiful. Should I turn it down?'' Eryndor thought, sensing his reaction.

    Travis blinked, shaking himself out of his daze. He cleared his throat. "Well, as long as you understand, then I''ll forgive you."

    His thoughts lingered on her beauty. ''She''s even prettier than Jessica. In fact, she outclasses her in every way.''

    Eryndor smiled knowingly. "Why, thank you, Travis. Your compliments make me happy." She leaned forward slightly. "Now, let''s talk about your level. You''ve grown stronger, Travis. You are now level one."

    In an instant, a screen appeared before him, displaying his current status.

    Name: Travis

    Age: 16

    Level: 1

    Stats:

    Strength: 9

    Speed: 10

    Stamina: 10

    "So you can show me my stats?" Travis asked, his curiosity piqued.

    "Yes, that''s one of my abilities. Pretty neat, right? I know." Eryndor¡¯s voice was casual now, almost playful.

    "Wait, what happened to your god-like accent?" Travis asked, noticing the shift.

    Eryndor¡¯s tone shifted to something more formal, cold even. "Do you prefer me being formal? Because if you wish, I may change back to it."

    Travis quickly shook his head. "Nope, please continue with this new one."

    "Okay, let¡¯s continue," she said, her voice warm again. "I made an adjustment to your body before. It makes it so your level doesn¡¯t necessarily tell how strong you really are. It¡¯ll grow accordingly, but your stats will tell a different story here than in the real world. You understand?"

    "Yes," Travis responded, absorbing the information.

    "Good," she said with a smile. "Now, I¡¯d like for us to start talking about how you¡¯ll grow in swordsmanship and become stronger as my user."

    TO BE CONTINUED

 Announcement !!

    Eryndor¡¯s hand glowed faintly as she summoned a shimmering duplicate of the sword. With a flick of her wrist, the blade pointed directly at Travis, its gleaming edge glinting in the dim light. Her eyes locked onto him, sharp and unblinking, and in an instant, the sword shot toward him, a blur of metal and magic. It was so fast that Travis barely had time to react. His body tensed, his muscles frozen in place by the sheer speed of it. There was no way to avoid it.

    Bracing for impact, Travis squeezed his eyes shut, preparing for the sting of the blade. But nothing came.

    Tentatively, he opened his eyes, his breath caught in his throat. The sword was floating mere inches from his face, suspended in the air, as if held by some invisible force. He could feel the faint pulse of energy radiating from it, but it wasn¡¯t moving, not a hair¡¯s breadth closer to him.

    Eryndor¡¯s voice was soft, but every word carried the weight of authority. "Lesson 1. A sword must listen to everything its master says. If you want me to cut something, I will. If you don¡¯t, I won¡¯t. Very simple, but you need power to make that happen. As much as I hate to admit it, you have to tame me, Travis."

    Travis blinked, still frozen in place by the unnerving sight of the sword suspended so dangerously close. He tried to process what Eryndor was saying, his confusion clear. "Huh? I thought I was already your user, or whatever."This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    Eryndor¡¯s lips curled slightly, a faint trace of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Correct, but that doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯ve accepted you completely. You¡¯re a temporary host. Take, for example, a K9 companion or a dog. You can let your close friends walk with it, even train it, but at the end of the day, it listens to you because you are its owner. Right now, you¡¯re just a close friend. The almighty God of all is still my true owner."

    Travis furrowed his brow, a knot forming in his stomach as the weight of her words sank in. '' How the hell am I supposed to tame a sword used by the strongest God in existence? ''

    Eryndor¡¯s eyes glinted with something that could almost be mistaken for amusement. "Yes, it won¡¯t be simple. But I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll figure it out eventually. For now, that should be your end goal. Well, we¡¯re done with lessons today. Time to teach you how to fight."

    She gestured to the space around them, and Travis felt a tingle of anticipation. He still didn¡¯t fully understand the task ahead of him, but he knew one thing: whatever came next, it wasn¡¯t going to be easy.

    [A/N : It''s your author here. Thank you for reading! For now, I''ve decided to go on hiatus and focus on my other novel. This has always been a future project in my mind, so if you could wait a month, that would mean a lot to me. As you can see from the unfinished chapter, I''m still working on developing this story.

    I want to create a unique system, solid world-building, and an amazing story, and that will take some time. But I''m sure once I''m done with my other novel, I''ll definitely continue uploading. Thank you for the support so far. I¡¯ve made a Discord so I can stay in contact with you all.

    If you''re interested, feel free to join!

    https://discord.gg/9XWrMXrF

    Peace ]