In the end, the hard wooden table hadn't proved to be as comfortable as it had first felt, and Leo spent the first few minutes of his morning just stretching out his sore muscles, groaning as he tried to work out the creaks that had formed overnight.

There was a pile of clean clothes folded neatly and placed on one of the nearby chairs lining the table. Next to it was a plateful of steaming eggs, fruit and a large jug of water. Without any hesitation, Leo attacked the meal with a frenzy. It only took him thirty seconds to demolish the whole platter, the taste almost as sublime as the Pandorian to his starving body.

After a moment to bask in the contentment of a full stomach, he tugged off his tattered woolen shirt and pants. The pungent smell that wafted away from his blood-stained clothing almost cost him his meal. He couldn’t make a fire high enough for his ruined clothes to burn in.

Not needing any more motivation, he quickly slipped into his new attire. Zeld had lent him a pair of brown thick woolen trousers that were tightened by an embedded rope to fit him, a loose-fitting cotton shirt, high woolen socks and a new pair of dark leather boots. He was almost disappointed that the clothes were all of common quality with no helpful effects, but anything compared to what he had on before was a huge boon.

Finished donning the clothes, Leo went to find the old hermit. He searched the small but quaint interior of the cabin, taking special note of the two sleeping quarters with soft feather beds that he wished he had spent the night in earlier.

A thorough search revealed the old man must be out in the garden. He grabbed Aveth from where it leaned against the kitchen wall, and stepped out the door into the cavern. Judging by the position of the sun, which shined brightly through the large opening in the ceiling overhead, he estimated it was around mid-day.

Zeld’s residence was situated against one of the hard, gray stone walls of the Garden, and using the waterfall as a reference, Leo thought it to be opposite from where he had first entered. With its dark red wood and small front porch tucked underneath an overhang, the cabin emitted a pleasant homey feel.

A small green grassy clearing around a hundred paces long separated the cabin from the invading plants. There was a gravel pathway that ran through the center of the clearing before forking off into three directions and disappearing into the underbrush.

A tall, rocky spire several stories high was built upon the edge of the clearing, looking a little out of place with the whole cabin in the woods feel. It protruded straight upward before branching in a “T” formation at the very tip. Leo eyed it for a second, observing what appeared to be scorch marks along the stone pillar, before a shout caught his attention.

“Heads up, boy!” Leo turned around just in time to get smacked in the face with a thick, wooden object. The pain disoriented him and he felt a trickle of what must have been blood trail from his sore nose. “A little late on the warning,” Leo growled, clutching his bleeding nose. The object was a thick piece of wood that had been crudely carved to resemble a sword. Something told him his nose was just the beginning of what today had in store for him.

“A little slow on the reflexes,” Zeld retorted, holding a similar wooden sword and walking towards him. “Go put Aveth back; you won't need it for this lesson.”

Leo hesitated for a moment, glancing around at the surrounding undergrowth. He was reluctant to surrender his weapon while in an area that had literally killed him the day before. “Nothing to worry about until you walk into the plants,” Zeld assured him. Leo gave a nod, trusting the old man's word, then quickly stowed Aveth back inside the cabin.

He headed back into the grassy clearing, stooping to pick up the practice sword off the ground before facing the old man and getting a better look at him than the day before. Zeld had a sharp wrinkled face with brown eyes, his completely white hair had been tied back in a small ponytail, and he possessed a build that was lean but held a wiry kind of strength. He tried casting Observation but the skill failed, making him all the more anxious about their impromptu training.

“You know it's considered rude to use that skill on another without permission.” Zeld smirked.

“Huh funny, where I come from, it's rude to hit someone in the face with a stick without permission,” Leo shot back before he could stop himself.

Instead of getting irritated, the old man just gave him a devious chuckle that was somehow far more disconcerting. “Ah, I had almost forgotten the boldness of youth. You ready, boy? I won’t have you slacking off just because it hurts.”

Leo met his steady gaze and gave him a nod of affirmation. The inhabitants of this world wouldn’t take it easy on him because he had a rough few days. If some harsh training allowed him to escape an early date with the Abyss, then it would be well worth the suffering. He would do whatever it took to survive and get back to Melody.

“Good,” Zeld replied, clearly seeing Leo’s resolve. “Then do what I say and you might just survive the week. The first lesson is going to be quite simple: You act like you’re a swordsman and I'll show you you’re wrong.” Leo gripped the practice sword in both hands and assumed what he thought was a ready position.

“First...” Zeld disappeared. A white flash was all Leo perceived before the sound of wood striking flesh filled the air twice in short succession. “Aveth is a one-handed blade and you should train for her as such.”

The impact of Zeld's first strike landed on Leo’s knuckles, forcing the sword from his grasp. Before he even had time to register what had happened, the second strike sent him toppling over as his legs collapsed from under him, a burning pain swelling on the side of his knee. “Second, your stance is all wrong.”

Leo lay on the ground groaning from the fall as the spot on his hand and leg stung from the impact. “Get up, boy, your enemy won't wait for you to find your feet and neither will I!” The point was emphasized with another quick strike to his ribs.

Gritting his teeth in pain, Leo rose to his feet. Clearly, the old geezer was not going to be a kind teacher. It would be interesting to see if his health regeneration would be able to keep up with his bruising by the end of the day. Getting to his feet, he took up his stance once again.

Zeld shook his head with a disapproving look. “You’re like a virgin about to finally lie down with a woman—tense, wide-eyed and have no idea how to handle your sword.” He walked over and used the flat of his blade to adjust Leo’s posture. “You’re keeping your body too stiff. You need to be laxer to maintain better control of your center of balance. Also standing straight at an opponent just gives them a larger target. You need to face them at a slant like so.”

Zeld poked and prodded Leo for over twenty minutes, pointing out and trying to explain the finer details of assuming a generic defensive stance. Then he had Leo repeatedly switch from an open to a ready stance at the drop of a dime, or in his case, the yell of the word, “Guard!”

Immediately after the warning, Zeld would close the distance between them at a bewildering speed, seeming to reappear in a flash of white directly in front of him mid-swing! If Leo was distracted by some other physical exercise Zeld was having him do, which was often the case, the strike would crash into his unprotected body, flinging him into the dirt and causing a new bruise to sprout on his skin.

The old devil was meticulous in his treatment, never hitting the same spot twice. The goal of the exercise seemed to quickly become less about swordsmanship and more about how colorful Zeld could make his skin.

It was several hours into the session and Leo’s hands were straining against the cool wet ground as he was doing pushups. The earth gave off a fragrance of grass and dirt that he barely noticed, lost in the pain and burning of his muscles. “…thirty-three…thirty-four…errahh.” He gave out a groan of frustration as his sword arm collapsed, refusing to move against his will.

“Guard!” Zeld shouted as soon as he noticed his impromptu disciple faltering. One moment the cruel overseer was on the front porch relaxing in a wooden rocking chair, tilting back against the cabin wall while sipping a glass of what looked like lemonade, and the next, Zeld was looming over Leo, practice sword swinging toward his prone figure. The chair Zeld had just vacated rocked gently forward from where he had left it.

Leo rolled desperately to the side, the wooden sword just grazing his shoulder before leaving an indent in the ground where he had just been. He grasped for his own practice sword lying on the grass next to him, his breathing already heavy from his previous physical exertion.

As his right hand found the sword’s grip, Leo dived away from the follow-up blow aimed at his head, catching a glimpse of the old man still sipping his drink in mid-swing! He tried to roll with the dive to end up on his knees so he could quickly clamber to his feet, but as he went to push himself up, his exhausted right arm failed him again, causing him to waver momentarily.

Taking advantage of the split-second body failure, Zeld lashed out at Leo’s right arm, striking the flat of the blade hard against his forearm. The impact stung, but he refused to let it topple him completely. Just like the fight with the wolves, he knew that if he fell now, he wouldn’t be able to fend off the next attack.

In desperation, he grabbed at the blade that had hit him, using the momentum from Zeld’s instinctive pull back to finally find his feet. Then he made a desperate swing of his own sword to make space between him and his relentless attacker.

“Playing dirty, are we?” Zeld said, his eyes glistening with mirth as he casually leaned back to dodge the clumsy strike, the ice in his drink gently clattering against the edges of his cup. Then he sent a swift kick into Leo’s midsection. The blow knocked the air out of him and sent him plummeting back into the dirt. His head hit the ground hard enough to darken his vision.

Leo gasped for air, trying to force his deflated lungs to fill. There was a moment of panic when his body once more refused to obey him and he felt himself suffocating, then after a few more struggling breaths, he blissfully found himself able to breathe again. When his hazy vision finally came back into focus, he found Zeld’s shadow draping over him, the tip of a practice sword casually pressed against his throat.

“Dead,” Zeld said plainly, giving the blade a gentle push to make his point before removing it. His cup was resting empty back on a small table on the porch, and he now held both training swords in his hands. One held nonchalantly at his side, the tip brushing the grass and the other resting over his shoulder. “Double dead for letting go of your weapon when you fell. You know if I had a real blade, you would have shredded your hand when you grabbed onto it.”

“Bu-t…it…wasn’t,” Leo rasped, his words coming out unsteadily as he tried to regain full control of his breathing.

“True, but we’re not trying to mimic practice fights. You need to be able to quickly assess and come up with a strategy against your opponent and be able to adapt that strategy once everything goes to the abyss. Unless there’s a huge difference in strength, more often than not, fighting comes down to out-thinking your foe rather than overpowering them. Most fights are decided before they’ve even begun—any fighter worth his salt knows that.”

Zeld took a seat on the ground beside him. “If you think I’m training you how to swing a sword, you’re wrong. I’m trying to teach you how to survive. Any twelve-year-old can go join an Adventurer's guild and get training with a sword, but it doesn’t mean they’ll live long. There will always be someone stronger than you.”

By now, Leo had managed to pick himself up into a sitting position, still clutching his stomach as he struggled to listen to Zeld through the pain.

Zeld waited until he was sure Leo was listening, then continued speaking his voice, dropping lower in a more foreboding tone. “The truth is this world is twisted, power is transferred and the only way to gain potential is by killing others. That natural law has laced every being with a deeply seeded greed to grow stronger. Many will satisfy that greed just so they are capable of sating it even further. This forces the rest of us to give in to that same greed for protection.” Zeld flicked one of his ring fingers and the same pipe he used last night appeared in a soft light. He took a moment to pack it up before lighting it again.

“This never-ending cycle of power has made most of this world’s inhabitants cold and unfriendly. Even rarer than finding an Arrival is finding someone who’s willing to not act in their own self-interest.”

“Then I must consider myself lucky for finding you.” Despite the bruising and the gruff exterior Zeld put on, the old man had literally given him back his life and was now teaching him how to survive in this unfamiliar world. It was debt Leo didn’t think he would ever be able to repay, he smiled to show his appreciation.

Zeld harrumphed and looked away. “Age has made me the altruistic fool, boy, but I’m not doing you any favors.” He turned back his brown irises, seeming to get lost in the passage of time. “You might be better off with a quick death, than a lifetime in misery…one day you’ll understand.” Zeld touched a gold band around his finger as he spoke. The ring was plain except for a symbol of what resembled a Roc with outstretched wings clutching a staff in its talons.

“Zeld…” he said, his voice all but a whisper as he steeled himself to ask what was needed, “how do I get back?”

It was the question he had been dreading to ask all day, afraid of the despair the answer might bring. With one word, Leo’s entire drive to continue living could be shattered. If Melody was forever beyond his reach, would there really be any point in continuing to live in such a dreadful world? He might even be better off taking Zeld’s offer of a quick death.

The moment stretched on before the old man finally broke the building tension. “I don’t know,” he said, his voice layered with sympathy. “In all my long years I never stumbled across how Arrivals come here, though I have uncovered a little of why. There is a game being played by both the Gods above and the Abyssal Lords below, a competition for power that sees us mortals as little more than pawns in their schemes. Arrivals are brought in by one such player to cause chaos and discord in the lands they are sent to, to undermine the tree of power at its roots so that the branches above may wither. But if it’s the divine who brought you here, then there must exist a method somewhere in that heavenly realm to send you back. It’ll just be getting your hands on it that may prove to be the challenge.”

Zeld gave him a wry smile, clearly knowing just how much of an understatement the word “challenge” would be. As somber as the news was, it was still enough to keep the small glimmer of hope of escaping this world alive. I just need to grow stronger than a god, he thought sardonically.

The old man clapped a hand on Leo’s shoulder before rising to his feet, sending his shifting thoughts scattering. “We can talk more on that later. For now, check your notifications; if you're lucky, you might’ve picked up a new skill while training." Zeld waited to hear the results as Leo mentally popped open his notifications page. He hadn’t checked it since his death.

Due to prolonged exposure to a harmful toxin, your body is beginning to redevelop.

Tempering 0%

Tempering 0.1%

...

Tempering aborted at 1.3%. Your body has developed a partial resistance through the failed tempering process. All poisons 8% less effective.

Skill Level up! Observation: Novice Level 4! Access General Information about your target up to (15 -> 20) levels higher than you.

Congratulations! You have learned the skill Swords! Rarity: Common, Skill Level: Novice Level 1. You’ll always know which end to use! 2% increase in attack speed while wielding a sword.

Skill Level up! Swords: Novice Level 3! (2 -> 6)% increase in attack speed while wielding a sword.

“Holy shit!” Leo exclaimed, ignoring the mocking wordplay with the new skill notification. He didn’t realize he had developed a new resistance along with a new skill! The tempering process failed when he died, and he shuddered to think of the immense pain required to fully protect his body against poison.

“Thought you might have gotten that skill already with your Progressive trait. It normally takes someone weeks to learn a new skill, so be careful in revealing to others how quickly you pick things up.”

“So, I should probably hide my leveling speed also, say for example if my Swords skill was already level three when most people wouldn’t even have it yet.” Leo gave Zeld a wide grin.

“You’ve achieved the third level already?” Zeld cried out in shock.

Leo felt his grin grow wolfishly large. “Some of us are just born with talent, I guess. How long did it take you?”

Zeld turned his back and walked a few paces away. “Do you really expect me to remember every insignificant thing that I've done, boy?? I'm old! The last thing in my memory is achieving the rank of Master.” There was a hint of pride in his voice as he said the last statement.

Leo rolled his eyes, feeling a sense of déjà vu with his ignorance. “What are the differences in skill ranks anyways? I’ve only been here a few days and none of mine are beyond Novice.”

Seeing that his boasting had no effect, Zeld gave a defeated sigh before explaining. “Well, the first few ranks go in order of Novice, Intermediate, and Adept. A new rank is achieved every twenty skill levels, and each rank adds a new side effect or improvement to your skill.” He turned to face Leo. “Which brings me to my concern that you’re leveling too fast.”

Leo’s brows came together in confusion. He thought being able to level his skills quickly was a good thing, as it was bound to give him a leg up on those he met.

Zeld continued, “Let me start from the beginning so I don’t confuse you.” Zeld sat back down on the grass next to him. “Do you ever wonder where your mana comes from, or why the attribute related to mana is named the way it is?”

Zeld let him ponder the statement for a moment. Leo tried to think back to the situations when he had used Arc Bolt, as it was his only skill that actually used mana. During those times, he had been in a life or death situation and hadn’t really paid attention to how he was casting his skill, though he did remember the mana-migraines. Leo grimaced at the thought. “Does mana come from the mind?”

Zeld gave him a slight smile, most likely guessing how he had come to that conclusion. “Close but no, the mind serves as a gateway for accessing our Origin. As far as we can tell, the Origin, sometimes referred to as one’s soulspace, is a transdimensional subspace unique to each person and creature. When we are first born, a section of the brain is developed to serve as a link to these subspaces; that section is known as the conduit. This portion of the brain develops alongside our Origin and determines the rate at which mana transfers to and from that subspace.”

Leo processed the new information. Essentially, Zeld was telling him everyone had their own pocket dimension where they could store and retrieve mana. Unfortunately, this revelation just brought up even more questions flooding his head. “Why do we transfer mana to the Origin, and how do these subspaces form in the first place?”

Zeld paused for a moment. He looked like he was contemplating how much information would satisfy Leo’s questions, and how much would just bring about more. “There are a lot of theories on how it’s formed, but last I checked nobody has quite figured it out yet. Some say it is the work of the gods, others attribute it to the result of an ancient ritual, but nobody knows for certain. As to your other question, mana is energy in its rawest form. Your body can be used as a medium to channel that energy, but if you were to try to hold more than it can handle, it would break you apart.”

Zeld retrieved a dagger from seemingly nowhere and started to draw a humanoid figure in the grass between them. He added a circle representing the conduit in the head, and a series of lines going from there to every part of the figure. “Now stemming from the conduit are what we call mana channels that are interconnected with every aspect of your body. These channels provide a way for mana to access different sections of your body and create an effect that we call Skills. To better help you understand how this works, think of your skill system as a series of invisible flowing rivers of power, where leveling a skill increases the flow rate of a particular river. Are you following?”

Leo nodded his assent; it was easy enough to visualize.

“Good, because I’m about to explain something that may just kill you if you don’t take it to heart.”

That caught his attention and he leaned forward intently.

“These rivers of power that link to the various muscles, organs, and bones in your body have a limited capacity, and if you increase the flow rate of a river beyond that capacity, it can quite literally explode.”

Leo gave Zeld a frown. “I always thought raising my skill was just increasing my knowledge of the skill.”

Zeld snorted. “A common misconception. You think knowing more about sword styles would make you move physically faster?” Seeing Leo’s worried look and impending question, he pressed on. “Don’t worry—you’ll be able to tell if you’re reaching your capacity with a particular skill. It’s a very rare occurrence as skills tend to take long periods of time to level, but for someone like you, it’s a very real threat.” He looked at Leo expectantly.

This new information made his Progressive trait sound more like a curse than a blessing, unless there was some way that he could prevent his new fear of spontaneously combusting. “How do I expand the capacity of these rivers?”

“Great question, my boy! How much power your rivers can handle directly correlates with your attributes. The reason I was implementing physical exercise into your training is that the Swords skill relies mainly on your Strength stat, and although it takes time, it is possible to raise your base stats through mundane means. If you progressed like a normal person, we would continue your training by sparring for a couple of weeks, but this trait of yours has dropped a knife on my plans.”

“So, what do we do now?” Leo asked, not sure if he liked where this was going.

Zeld gave him a chilling smile. “Now you get to go hunting!”