"You're not doing nearly enough to defend yourself. You still haven't grasped the concept of Ki, and your foot placement is so bad it's making me question your life choices," Lucien lamented, watching Valeri crash into yet another tree. For a moment, he wondered if the trees had formed a union against his apprentice. Valeri groaned, struggling to untangle himself from the branches. "But my movements are getting faster! I almost dodged that first attack!" Valeri argued, brushing off twigs with all the dignity of a man who had just kissed bark. Lucien raised an unimpressed brow. "You talk too much during fights. If you do that in the Vanguard Exams, someone might shut you up permanently." Valeri snorted, trying to regain some composure. "Like who?"
"Someone like the Moon princess. If you're lucky, she'll just laugh at you. If you're not… well, people disappear around her." Lucien's tone was light, but Valeri noticed the way his eyes darted into the shadows.
Two weeks into training with Luca, and Valeri's days of passing out mid-fight were over. Now, he could at least stay conscious long enough to hear the insults. Luca, however, was relentless. Earlier that week, he'd dropped the ultimate pep talk: "You're too weak. Or in essence, you haven't got the talent to back up your tenacity. You're like a mule trying to learn ballet—awkward, painful, and slightly endearing. But mostly painful. Honestly, it's a miracle you're still alive." Valeri had taken the criticism in stride, though it stung worse than the tree bark currently lodged in his hair. He knew he wasn't talented, and his battle strategy up to this point was just throwing everything at his enemy and hoping something stuck. Spoiler: it usually didn't.
Luca, for his part, had decided on a new method: beat the skills into Valeri. Literally. "Since your brain refuses to comprehend fighting, I'll teach your body instead. And lucky for you, I have an ability that stops time in a one-mile radius. We'll train until your body reacts instinctively. Or until you finally collapse into the dirt for good, whichever comes first." "He can pause time?." That was the only part Valeri heard. For a brief moment, he wondered about the possibilities: stopping time to dodge attacks, steal snacks, or finally get the last word in an argument. But those dreams shattered when training began. The world dimmed as Luca activated his ability. Colors faded into grayscale, the air grew heavy, and Valeri's misery became the only vibrant thing in the void. It was like living in an old black-and-white movie, except with more bruises and significantly less popcorn. After another grueling day of training, Valeri found himself staring at his reflection in the river. His once-soft features were now sharper, framed by bruises and dirt that refused to wash away. He clenched his fists, feeling the calluses that had formed over weeks of swinging a blade. "Your problem," Luca's voice interrupted his thoughts, "isn't just strength or speed. It's your hesitation. In a fight, there's no room for second-guessing. You hesitate, you die." Valeri scoffed. "Easy for you to say. You've probably never hesitated in your life." Luca crouched beside him, his gaze distant. "That's where you're wrong. Hesitation has cost me more than you could imagine. It's why I'm still here… teaching you instead of—" He cut himself off, his jaw tightening. Valeri wanted to ask what Luca meant but decided against it. Instead, he took a deep breath and stood. "Fine. No more hesitation." The next morning, Valeri charged into training with a new resolve. His movements were sharper, his attacks more deliberate. Luca smirked. "Finally, you're starting to look like someone who wants to win."
Every day was a lesson in pain. Luca's strikes were relentless, and Valeri's only real skill was his newfound ability to not die. That, as it turned out, was thanks to his personal attribute—a defense mechanism that kicked in whenever death was imminent. It was less of a superpower and more like his body screaming, "NOPE, NOT TODAY!" Luca, however, found this fascinating. His initial goal of training Valeri turned into a borderline obsession. "Why won't you just die?!" he muttered one day after yet another of his lethal strikes was perfectly countered. He started inventing new ways to push Valeri's limits, all while growing more frustrated at the walking paradox he called a student. Valeri, for his part, had no idea what was going on. One minute he was dodging (badly), the next he was waking up in the dirt with Luca glaring at him like an angry drill sergeant who had just realized his recruit couldn't tell left from right.
By the second month, Valeri's progress was undeniable. He could now stand up as fast as he was knocked down, and his swings no longer looked like he was swatting invisible flies. Luca, though, was unimpressed. "Congratulations, you've graduated from 'useless' to 'mildly less useless.' Don't celebrate too hard." One evening, Valeri stared into the fire, his body aching from the day's punishment. "Am I even getting stronger, or am I just learning how to survive longer?" The question lingered, heavy and unspoken, as Luca sharpened his blade in silence. Later that night, Luca sat him down by the fire. "Do you know how long we've been here?" he asked. Valeri blinked. "Uh, like… a couple of weeks?" Luca sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Time moves slower here, genius. In my world, it's been over a year. And if we don't leave this forest soon, you'll start forgetting what a calendar is. We're heading to a nearby town tomorrow."
Valeri nearly choked on his water. "A town? Wait, why? Are you abandoning me?!" he spluttered.
Luca rolled his eyes. "No, you melodramatic child. We need identities. And also, I need to buy some new socks. Yours smell like despair."
Valeri's earliest memory was of his mother's laughter, a soft sound that wrapped around him like a warm blanket. She used to hum a lullaby as she worked, her hands calloused from years of labor but gentle as they tucked him into bed each night. "Someday, you'll do great things, Valeri, my dear son, as bright as the sun." she would say, brushing a strand of hair from his face. His mother, his sisters, his father, his earliest memories from all of them was love. Peace, Happiness he'd wished he had cherished more. And Back then, Valeri had believed her. He'd imagined himself as a hero, wielding a sword and protecting those who couldn't protect themselves. But that dream had faded over the years, as he got sick, his dreams were replaced by the harsh reality of survival, From taking sick days off school at 4, to staying at from being too weak to move long distances at 5 and then being completely bedridden at 6. Now, as he swung his blade under Luca's watchful eye, he wondered if his mother would recognize the person he'd become.
Later that night, as the fire crackled and the forest whispered its secrets, Valeri finally worked up the courage to ask the question that had been nagging at him for weeks.
"Why do you push me so hard?"
Luca stared into the flames, his expression unreadable. "Because I see too much of myself in you." Valeri blinked, caught off guard. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Luca sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I wasn't always like this. I had a mentor once, someone who believed in me even when I didn't believe in myself. But I let him down. I hesitated when it mattered most, and he paid the price." The silence that followed was heavy, filled with unspoken pain. "I won't let that happen again," Luca said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.
The next morning, they made their way to the town of Forboðna. The forest felt alive as they walked, every rustle in the underbrush like the breath of an unseen predator. The air was thick with moisture, and the distant glow of fireflies cast eerie shadows on the trees. Valeri tightened his grip on his makeshift weapon, every nerve on edge.
"Why does it feel like we're being watched?" he whispered.
Luca didn't respond. He didn't need to; his hand was already on the hilt of his blade.
Forboðna wasn't what Valeri had expected. The streets were narrow and winding, the buildings leaning at odd angles like they were conspiring against the sky. Vendors shouted half-heartedly from their stalls, their wares looking suspiciously secondhand. But it wasn't the sights that unnerved him—it was the eyes. Everyone seemed to be watching, their gazes lingering just a moment too long before darting away.
As they approached the registration booth for the Vanguard Exams, Valeri couldn't help but notice a group of fighters clustered nearby. One of them, a towering figure with crimson hair, sneered at him. "Fresh meat," the man muttered, loud enough for Valeri to hear. Luca's expression didn't change, but his grip on Valeri's shoulder tightened. "Don't engage," he muttered. "Save it for the exams." Standing before the gates, Luca casually dropped another bombshell: "We're here for the Vanguard Exams." Valeri froze. "Exams?! You never said anything about exams! I didn't study! I don't even know my element yet!" Luca sighed. "It's not a written test, idiot. They're testing stamina, combat skills, and resource management. The basics. Just don't trip over your own feet, and we might survive the first round."
But Luca didn't tell Valeri everything. His initial plan was to find the man responsible for the town's notorious image. He knew if he wanted to get caught up with the world's information, he would need the man who knew it all. If this world really was a carbon copy of the game, then who else could he trust to blurt out even the littlest details if not 'him,' The Night Watcher—Ezekiel Locke.