“Uh, I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

I held a wooden sword and wore practice leathers for protection. The many scratches and dents along its length showed that the blunt tipped weapon had been well-used during many practices. I stood in the courtyard where I had seen the soldiers training the day before, but the center of it had been cleared for me and my opponent. The sides were filled with men eager to watch me get beaten down.

Michael stood across the courtyard from me. He wore simple cloth garments. No armor. A similar, well-used wooden sword hung loosely in his left hand. His posture was completely relaxed. He gave me an encouraging smile.

“You said he’s the greatest warrior in the world? Or something like that?” I hissed.

Rafe shrugged.

“Something like that.”

“Better than you?”

“Well, yes. Almost certainly. He’s quite terrifying on the battlefield, like a force of nature.”

“Then how am I supposed to beat him!” I asked furiously.

“Beat him?”

Rafe laughed.

“Oh, my boy, no one expects you to beat him. We’re here because of what I told him about you. He’s curious.”

“Then why are all these people watching?”

Rafe answered, “He’s the Knight Protector. Legendary and unmatched. These men are all warriors, and he’s the epitome of what they strive to become. They want to watch him. They’re fanboys.”

I frowned.

“Fanboys? I don’t see any of them using fans. It’s not that hot. And what does using fans have to do with watching this duel?”

Rafe grimaced. “Never mind. It’s just a turn of phrase. It means that they really admire him.”

Strange. Did that mean they would want to cool him down with fans after he had exerted himself?

“C’mon, get in position!” Rafe urged. “You prefer that two-handed grip, right? The katana style? That’s why I got you one of the thinner, longer practice swords.”

Katana. Yes. I recognized the word now, and I did prefer it. The speed and the power. It had always appealed to me. I had learned to use a sword and shield like a regular soldier, but it had always struck me as awkward and slow. I would rather strike first, strike hard, and finish a fight quickly than to shuffle back and forth, trading blows off a piece of metal on my other arm. And heavy two-handed swords were far too bulky for my taste.

How did I know that?

Michael swished his wooden practice sword around a bit and then called over politely, “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” I replied uncertainly.

“Very well, prepare yourself.”

Michael crossed the yard quickly. I tried to relax so that the forms would come naturally and smoothly as I fought, and I reminded myself that I had lasted 15 seconds with Rafe. Maybe I could--

Crash! My sword went flying away, and Michael’s blade rested on my neck.

Wow.

He frowned. “Level 20 Swords, yes?”

He said it softly, glancing a bit at the men around us while speaking. I realized that since these men were normal, his words would sound like gibberish if they heard them.

I nodded.

“Very well, pick up your sword. This time, why don’t you attack me.”

I fetched my wooden practice sword from the ground and then readied myself. I took a deep breath and held my sword firmly in front of me at an angle, left foot forward and right foot back. I centered myself, picturing my chi settling in the center of my body.

Chi? What was that?

I shook the errant question out of my mind and then tried to empty myself of thought and emotion entirely, focusing only on the feel of the rough wood in my hands, the weight of the weapon, and the steady flow of my breath in and out of my chest.

Finally, I felt completely focused and ready to fight. My mind was light but sharply aware of everything around me. Though part of me still acknowledged the crowd of men around us, I put them from my mind and concentrated solely upon my opponent. He waited patiently for me, and I knew that I would destroy him. My blade would flash with the speed of a striking snake, too quick to dodge and too powerful to block. I felt the muscles in my legs tighten as my body sprang forward explosively, my sword rising high and then falling down in a beautiful, unstoppable arc.

Crash! My sword went flying away. I felt a familiar pressure against my neck.

He was so fast! There was no way I could...wait! Idiot! I had forgotten Flashpoint!

“Lord Knight Protector, sir, uh--” I began.

“Just Michael,” he said in a friendly tone. “Just call me Michael.”

I heard murmurs from around me.

“Okay. Can we try it one more time, Michael?”

“Certainly,” he agreed amiably. “Prepare yourself. I’ll give you three seconds and then attack.”

Flashpoint.

I lunged forward before he even got to two. Maybe it wasn’t fair, but I hardly thought my sneak attack would work.

I was right.

His forearms shifted and then twisted. My strike was deflected. He sidestepped--I wasn’t sure why--and then swung with tooth-rattling strength as I just barely recovered my position to block his attack. I shifted my weight as I prepared to--

Crash!

My hands stung from the reverberations of the sword being smashed from my hands.

“Well,” he said, “Perhaps after you hit level 25.”

It had been embarrassing, but there was one silver lining.

Congratulations! Your Swords skill has increased to level 21.

Michael frowned at me.

“Did you just gain a level in Swords?”

I blinked.

“Yes, how could you tell?”

“Rafe told me about your odd affinity. I wanted to see if I could trigger it.”

“Oh. Well, I suppose that’s worth the humiliation.”

Michael asked curiously, “Were you looking at the level up message just now?”

“Yes,” I affirmed.

“You should set your notifications to minimize during stressful situations, like fighting. You can always look at them again later.”

“How do I do that?”

“Look to your upper left corner and focus on it. Your settings menu will pop up. You can change the notifications from there.”

I focused on the upper left corner of my vision, and a blinking circle appeared. I dug around for a bit until I found something called “Notifications” and read it. It really didn’t make any sense to me, I managed to activate something that said “Minimize secondary messages during battle or other life-threatening situations.”

Rafe grabbed my arm.

“Come on! We’re gonna grab some ale. Michael’s buying! You can fiddle with your HUD later.”

“HUD?”

Rafe blew his breath out. “HUD. It stands for Heads Up Display. You know--those words you see pop up in front of your eyes. Forget about it for now. Let’s get something to drink. If you like I’ll give you some pointers on how to handle it later. I would have said something sooner if I had realized you didn’t know how to use it.”

Rafe pulled the practice blade from my hands and tossed it to a nearby soldier.

“C’mon, time to wet your throat. Michael has some questions.”

Gulp.