“Duck. Knee. Block. Head.” Honey called out the new sequence.

Snowflake responded on muscle memory alone, struggling to focus through his gasping breath and aching body. He bent his hips and knees to duck beneath Honey’s horizontal swipe. Almost as an afterthought, he raised his left hand and the kite shield strapped to it to guard his face. His head still pounded with a dull throb from the last time he was too slow. To duck. He got the shield up in time, but his poor technique meant that the shield twisted and hit him, still transferring the force of her blow to his face.

A poor trade if you asked him. At least the club might have put him out of his misery.

The muscles in his legs screamed in protest as he forced them bend to his will. The first few times hadn’t been so bad but after a few hours of squatting down, standing back up, and twisting his hips to generate solid strikes, his knees trembled and threatened to collapse.

“Back straight. Core tensed,” Honey said, relentless in her pursuit of proper form, no matter how fatigued he was.

He responded to her corrections the best he could. A beat after he lowered himself into a proper duck, he felt her club whistle over his head. With a significant outpouring of effort, fueled by willpower, he forced himself to twist and lash out with the club in his hand. The weapon he had originally ridiculed as not much more than a child’s stick, now felt like a lead weight in his grasp. It wrenched like a living thing as he tried to aim it at Honey’s knee.

Snowflake over-extended. He felt it as soon as the swing was set in motion. That was bad. Very bad. The rhythm of their ‘sparring’ moved to an imaginary, but consistent, beat. He was falling behind.

With a strength born of desperation he tried to bring the shield strapped to his arm to block the blow he knew was coming. It was a short distance, but he was so tired. That, and he had fallen behind the rhythm.

He managed to get it up in time to take the full brunt of the strike head-on. It was the same strength of strike he’d blocked dozens of times in the last few hours, but in his haste, he struggled to brace himself with his legs and core. Unbalanced and unprepared, the blow was enough to send him to the ground.

He laid on his back and stared into the sky; his limbs felt too heavy to move. Darkness flickered in his peripheral vision, closing in. For perhaps the thousandth time in the last hour, Snowflake wished exhaustion was an emotion he could feed to the flame. Unfortunately, trial and error proved that no matter how hard he tried to, it always came back like it never left.

After what felt like a blink in an eye, an incessant nudge started to plague him. He tried to roll away but to no avail.

“I know you’re tired,” Honey said, pausing her nudging long enough to peer into his face. “But I need you to keep giving me one hundred percent of what you have left.”

“I hear,” Snowflake struggled to talk through each shuddering breath. His stomach was rebelling, and it took all he had to keep from letting it claw its way up his throat. He’d emptied his stomach of its contents a long time ago and dry-heaving bile was something he was keen to avoid doing more of. “That swordplay focuses on more finesse.”

“A club-shield combo is ideal for learning internal and external chemical energy use. Great for learning to focus and disperse kinetic energy too.”

If Snowflake had the knowledge to argue that point with her, he would’ve gladly chosen it to be the hill he died on. Even if it was only to delay the inevitable.

“Spears keep the enemy on the other side of a long stick?”

Honey nudged him harder in the ribs with her foot, eliciting a disgruntled moan.

“I could teach you to use a spear if you’d like. We can start all over again.” Her voice could have been tinted with either amusement or sarcasm, but Snowflake was beyond picking up such subtle details.

“Why?”

The particulars of the question were lost in translation. ‘Why do I have to push myself to exhaustion and beyond?’ is a more accurate representation of what he meant. Thankfully, Honey was able to put it together through context clues.

“Because,” she said, hauling him to his feet. “This is the easiest way to acclimate to Source enough to use it.”

“Easiest?” The doubt in his voice was palpable.

“Easiest for me, fastest for you.” Again, she flashed him a bright smile featuring too-sharp teeth. It was beginning to look less pretty and more cruel. “Bodies are unparalleled at being able to gather and use energy. Just trust that yours will connect you to Source as soon as it can’t draw on anything else.”

It wasn’t the first time she had explained the process, but he was glad she didn’t begrudge him for asking her to do it again. Magic was a reason he could fight for. ‘Living well’ and ‘not being powerless’ were valid reasons of course, but magic-

“Besides, the faster you can start paying the Guild back, the more likely you’ll ever be able to move beyond this forsaken hellhole. Now, square up.” Honey’s voice broke through his musings. “Block. Bash. Head. Block. Head.”

Snowflake had a beat to prepare himself. He staggered his feet into a fighting stance --left foot forward, knees bent, and weight balanced—and lifted his club and shield into position. Honey wasted no time. She whipped a diagonal strike toward his head, bringing the club from her shoulder across her body. He absorbed it the best he could. If he wasn’t so tired then maybe he could deflect more of the force away, but for now the best he could do was bend his knees, sink his hips, tighten his core, and endure.

Her club bounced off his shield. The impact passed through his aching bones, but he still stood. Digging deep, he stepped forward with his left foot and punched toward her, using the edge of his shield as a weapon. She danced out of reach, but he pivoted on his planted left foot to bring his club toward her head. The strike was slow, and his form was sloppy, but he gave it his all. Honey’s ask of ‘100% of what you have left’ burned bright in his mind.

She parried the blow away-- gentle enough to not send the club flying from his hand-- and wound up to strike at him again. Time seemed to slow as he took stock of his situation. Honey’s parry had knocked him off balance, again. Her next hit was already on its way and he knew he wouldn’t be able to block it in time.

By putting too much focus into his strike, he had allowed himself to make the mistake of letting his shield drop down. He needed to get it back into position, but he wasn’t sure if his muscles would respond to his will at this point. Even if they did, he would still be too slow. There was nothing left for him to give and the darkness was closing in.

But.

This wasn’t the first time he had been forced to face his limitations. It was his job to dig deeper, to summon strength he didn’t know he had. They could strip him of everything else, but he would always have the fighting spirit that got him through so many ‘impossible’ tasks. In times of defeat and despair, he could always count on reaching his hidden inner strength.

So, he fought, and he strained. He pit his mind against his body, the weak shell that held him back. Ripping, tearing pain shot through his muscles, rising to a crescendo as he pushed his body to obey. Through his blurry eyes he could see the club bearing down on him. It grew to eclipse his vision, like the World Tree blotting out the sun.

A dark thought wormed its way into Snowflake’s mind. Maybe, just maybe, his ability to surpass his limits and rise to any challenge was like his magic. What if it was a function of his old world that was ripped from him like everything else? Was he destined to fight tooth and claw just to fail? Fail like his parents?

He was never going to bring his shield up in time. That was clear to him now. No matter how hard he tried, his reaction was just too slow. It was over.

But he didn’t give up. He dug deeper inside himself than he had ever done before but found no source of hidden strength. All he found was a spark of anger and denial. A refusal to believe that he could fail if he gave something his all.

Something broke. The darkness creeping at the edge of his vision swallowed him. He felt like he was falling. No, he was falling. His body had given out and he was collapsing to the ground. It felt like he was falling endlessly through the void, a feeling he had experienced all too often as of late. At least the silent darkness allowed him the peace of mind to manage his thoughts and feelings.

Maybe he was being melodramatic. She used to say that it was one of his worst character flaws. It was one of the reasons she went out of her way to find and teach him a technique to manage his emotions. He hated to admit it, but maybe she was right. Was a simple spar worth so much emotion? Did he really need to push his body to the breaking point to avoid getting whacked with a wooden stick? Probably not.

That said, the bitter taste of failure lingering in his mouth and gnawing at his gut wasn’t something to dismiss with a casual wave of his hand. He tried his best and failed, for the first time in a long time. Things were different here, he knew that. It was an acknowledged fact that he was powerless here. And yet, in the back of his mind he had still believed it was just a matter of time and effort until he was back to where he was before.

In his heart of hearts, he had known that all he had to do was try his best and everything would work out. Sure, this was a minor setback, but it called his whole belief system into question, like an immortal coming down with a common cold. More than that, it highlighted how hard he would have to work to reach the peak.

He had taken it for granted that he would master the magic of this world with just a little effort. Things had always come naturally to him. Maybe he would be better off pursuing something else if magic was this difficult. He could live a peaceful life. Start a menagerie of exotic beasts. Since coming to this world, he had seen an endless number of fascinating animals. Each of them seemed to be magical in someway and he found it fascinating.

Yes, he could be happy doing that. Being happy was ‘living well,’ right?

Just as he was about to resign himself to an easy life of magical animal husbandry, the spark of stubborn belief that he would succeed at anything he applied himself to flared to life once again.

‘This was a minor, pathetic setback,’ it seemed to say. ‘We are so much more than this.’

As if summoned by the spark, of a wave of revitalizing energy washed through him.

Snowflake’s eyes snapped open. He dropped his club and used his right hand to brace his fall. In a crouch with one hand against the ground, he brought his shield up to block Honey’s attack. He shrugged it off with ease. He snatched his club off the ground, brimming with energy and feeling stronger and faster than he had ever felt before. He swung with all his might at her unprotected head, standing up and twisting his hips just like she taught him.

He felt good. Really good. The strength he felt was intoxicating. His worries were gone and he was back, a god among men. A twinge of regret made itself known as he made eye contact with Honey. He didn’t dislike her; in fact, she had been growing on him. Unfortunately, he was committed to this strike and he doubted she would survive. He had reached deep and found the power he needed to overcome. Strength was exploding through his veins and her head was about to be crushed like a melon.

Her lips twitched up into a smirk.

Too fast for him to see, her hand reached up to catch the club. It was like punching a brick wall. His arms and hands were a mess of numbness and shooting pain. It felt like he was being stabbed by thousands of poisoned needles. She closed her hand and snapped the club in half. Splinters went flying everywhere.

Failure, again.

“About time you broke through,” she said, tossing her braid over her shoulder and shaking her head. “I thought we would be here all day.”

“I-I thought I failed,” Snowflake said, his mind struggling to catch up with the emotional ups and downs he was experiencing. Not to mention the strangeness in his body.

The energy filling him had washed away his aches and pains. It felt bizarre to go from hurting to feeling fine with such abruptness. He must be converting the Source in his body to chemical energy without realizing it.

“You could say that,” Honey said, brushing powdered wood off her hand. “Growth requires you to push your limits. Sometimes that means pushing to failure.”

“Failure is,” he hesitated, searching for the right words. “Not something I’m used to.”

Honey didn’t reply straight away. Snowflake watched as she held out her hands and formed a ball of water. She produced two cups, filled both with the water, and passed one to him. He didn’t feel thirsty but drank anyway. Honey did the same, but also washed her face. It was strange, even after washing with water, her warpaint didn’t so much as fade.

“Not many Awakened are accustomed to failure,” her lips pressed together in a slight grimace. “Often- Well, Awakening is hard process. This is a hard world. Some take it worse. I struggled- am struggling myself. Some things take time.”

Honey’s careful words betrayed a vulnerability Snowflake had not expected. They were practically strangers. The words resonated with him though. They rang of truth, and of hurt.

“I know what you mean,” he hesitated to share his experience, but decided that he had nothing to lose and everything to gain from a moment of trust. “Someone sacrificed their freedom to allow me to come here and now I feel like I have to live up to that sacrifice. I just don’t know if I can.”

Honey reached out to grab his shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. She nodded at his words and spoke in a gentle tone, “The road to saving them will be long. Many don’t aim that high, but I understand. They were real to you, even if they were a fiction in the grand scheme of things. I hope their memory will keep you strong.”

“Save them?”

“Advance far enough to reclaim your world from the hands of the System,” she said, intending to clarify. “Come on, I’ll teach you how to keep excess energy from turning into fat or tumors. The real training starts tomorrow.”

***

Over the next hour and a half, Snowflake learned more about his body than he was honestly comfortable with. Using the moving lights, three-dimensional holograms Honey called them, she broke the body down into moving parts like gears in a machine.

Her lecture focused on how the body does whatever it can to maintain homeostasis, or ‘balance’ as she preferred to call. The key to body enhancement, in her words, was to ‘push the body’s limits and force it to adapt while providing the energy to do so.’

However, she claimed that it was not so simple.

“The trick is always balance,” she said. “If you provide too much energy, your body will store it as fat or allow cells to grow into tumors; too little and your body will cannibalize itself to provide the energy it needs.”

At first, he didn’t pay her much mind. The concept of balance was thrown around in his old world more often than he cared for. It was always ‘the balance of good and evil this’ and ‘there can be no light without darkness’ that. But then she used the holograms to show him examples of what would happen. He would never be able to un-see what he saw.

As if the grotesque display of worst-case scenarios wasn’t enough, she saw it fit to shoot down his dreams of boosting individual muscles with chemical energy. He thought it would be perfect for efficient bursts of superhuman strength and quickness.

“You see, if the muscle is too much stronger than the tendon,” she adjusted the hologram to show him what she was talking about as she spoke. “The muscle will tear right off the bone. If the tendon and muscle are stronger than the bone, they’ll break it.”

He winced as the holographic figure snapped their leg and started rolling on the ground in agony. It seemed a little cruel to make the poor guy endure so much pain, even if he was just a figure made of light.

“I suggest you start by applying chemical energy into your heart as you need it. Your blood will act as transportation for the energy to your entire body,” she said, using diagrams of light to show him how it works.

He nodded along wishing he had some way to record all this information, until a thought struck him.

“If I were to bleed, would I lose access to the Source I invested into that amount of blood?”

“You’ll find out tomorrow.”

The wink she shot him lessened the sting of her sharp-toothed grin, but the way her eyes twinkled promised a repeat of today’s efforts. At least now he had a true reason to fight and struggle. More than magic or power, he had a debt to pay and his world to save.