Light from the fresh morning sun trickles across my room as I stand in front of my mirror. Mirrors would be more accurate; not as we can really afford or even find a full-body mirror even if we had the coin.

Still, the stacked mirrors do the job well enough. Just another quirk in our little life.

Staring back into the fractured reflection of myself, I’m able to take in my body for the first time in a while. Not that I couldn’t before, I just... don’t really care to check myself out and watch my figure.

“Ack, stay focused Alym come on just look it's not that bad.”

Finally glancing up to truly take in my reflection, all self-inflicted worries and concerns momentarily vanish as I view a mostly normal-looking girl, staring back at me. Some would say I was given the best traits from both my parents to be the perfect young woman.

Yea no, I agree to disagree. I’m not exactly the girl I’d, like to be.

Dad is the exact person you would think of when looking for a prototypical strong village man. Tall bulky build with muscles to spare. Holds himself like a bear protecting his cubs and just about to look like one too. His hair is short and ruff-looking with a dark oak brown tinge, and a bushy beard provided mom lets him grow one.

Now you would think a man like that would create strong, tall, tough children to gloat about.

Well, you're wrong.

Here I am standing barely over five feet with the frame of a runt wolf. That’s not to say I’m all skin and bones, but I just don’t have that... oomph factor I was hoping for. Sure, I got some small muscles and nice abs, I mean it’s impossible not to have them with the work we do, but couldn’t I be just a smidgen taller.

Outside of my growing (ironic I know) height problems, I can’t find much more to complain about. Despite clearly following in my father's footsteps when it comes to my personality and interest when it comes to looks, I’m a dead ringer for mom.

I wear long nearly perfect white hair that cascades down my back and nearly reaching my waist. It seems to highlight my tanned skin and deep blue eyes well. Heh, if it weren't for the dirt and ash-stained tunic and pants I wear; some might say I look shockingly similar to a Princess.

Continuing further down past my face I frown while staring at the rest of my body. Sure, there's not a lot there to complain abo... No that is the problem! Why is there nothing there!

Yea I know I’m a bit young, but I’ve seen an old drawing of mom at my age, and she has... assets. Why not me?

The world is cruel and unforgiving, curse you gods.

Continuing down I stop for a passing glance at my absI’ve worked oh so hard for. Gardening and helping chop the firewood gave me good progress, but to be honest it’s surprisingly cleaning the forge that works my tum the hardest. Awkward position, I guess? Who knows?

Finally, I stare at my hips and waist, my true proof that the gods are evil creatures. Of course, the one and I mean the only one of my physical traits I gained from dad was a large... lower end. It like any pound of fat that I ever gained was sucked away from the top and put down below, I mean that’s not saying a whole lot but still, my point stands.

Mom assures me that some people like it that way but I’mpretty sureshe’s lying to save my ego.

Sigh

“Enough gawking I guess, time to start the day!” I cheered to no one but myself.

Leaving my small room, I shuffle into our one-room does all abode as mom finishes cleaning dad's breakfast plates.

“Morning sleepyhead, breakfast is on the table my dear” mom sings.

Ahh, a nice spring breakfast with actual fruit and bread, not the plain winter jerky we’ve been eating for the last few weeks now. I immediately begin scarfing my breakfast down like a starving wolf.

Very un-lady-like, I’m sure. Internally I giggle for a moment before chowing down again.

“Tsk, can’t tell if you enjoy my cooking or if that apatite of yours is truly bottomless.” Mom sarcastically commented.

“Honestly Alym you're turning into your father more and more these days.” she teased.

“Mmmph, Gasp- sorry mom it’s just that munch the first true meal of the spring is just munch too good to waste munch,” I respond while trying to spray my morning meal across the plate.

“Tsk, alright enough messing up the kitchen. Get! Get! Come on now off to your work” Mom quite literally picks me up and ushers me out the door before I can think to argue with her.

Damn stupid height and stupid mothering skills... those exist right mother skills. Is there a [Mother] class?

Uhhg whatever, I guess I can start my chores before going to see dad.

Heading down along the western path, I quickly snatch the dirty clothes basket patiently waiting for my arrival. With a quick heave I lifted the comically large basket that was close to half my size, wait, am I just comically small?

Despite my size, I’m used to carrying this weight and have found the optimal method for wielding this massive beast of a basket. After lifting just high enough to reach my head under, I let most of the weight down to rest on my head while using my arms to keep it balanced.

Twenty minutes and one sore head later I stop Infront of the small riverbank we use to wash the clothing. With swift efficiency, I attack my task of cleaning and folding like a master smith folding their metal repeatedly. It helps to imagine I’m doing something a bit cooler than folding clothes and in no time at all, I’m practically finished.

This early in the spring most of the peskier creatures that migrate around here have yet to surface making the experience rather pleasant. Not that they’re much of an issue even in the midst of summer. Mother does a good job of warding off most creatures with a special herbal concoction she refuses to teach me about.

Gazing up towards the crystal blue sky without a cloud in sight, I came to the rational conclusion that we won’t have to worry about rain today and proceed to hang our freshly cleaned laundry out to dry.

Alright chore one donezo, now comes the hard one.

Slowly trudging my way forward back down towards our home and right past it, then up to the northern trail. Stumbling through the great roots of the grand tress surrounding me in every which way, I finally break out into an open grass field. Within the field there’s grass reaching past my knees, fruit just beginning to ripen and a plethora of small animals going about their day.

Carefully stepping through the grass and weeds, I find myself Infront of the first of several traps sprung and ready for a reset. I’d like to say that our traps are these grand complex mechanisms crafted after nearly sixteen years of living in the wood, but no, it quite dull in actuality.

It’s just a stick, a basket, and a small treat. Boom that’s it. No, really that’s all it is.

It’s laughable that something this simple works so well, but if it ain’t broke don’t improve it, I guess. They end up working with about a 60% accuracy and don’t often break, so they're worth their weight.

All that being said, there is one big thing this trap doesn’t do. Kill the animal.

I mean yea it could starve if we wait long enough, but they end up escaping long before then. So here I am.

Both mom and dad thought it would be good for me to start dealing with these kinds of things. It’s just... hard you know? I hate blood, and I can’t stand broken bones, burned flesh, the works. But if I’m going to live here or on my own one day, they say I need to be able to do these sorts of things.

Cautiously walking up to the sprung trap, I slowly inch my fingers over to my old knife dad gave me back on my thirteenth birthday. Sliding it out from its sheath I quickly glance it overlooking for any nicks or cracks that might give me a reason to back out.

Nothing, not even one.

Sigh

Why did dad teach me how to maintain blades? Damn that man and all he does for me. Why must they care for me so.

I bought myself enough time to calm my nerves and ready the blade over the basket, come on Alym on the count of three, 1...2....3... NOW!

With a small tear of the basket and a quiet but clear surprised yelp from the rabbit beneath, I plunge the blade as far as it would go and release it. Dragging the freshly bloodied blade from the basket, I quickly plunge the blade back down eliminating any chance the creature could still be alive.

Rasing the basket and setting it down to my side, I’m left with the worst sight known to humanity. The sight of a fresh body is one no person should need to see, but I know why we do. It’s nature I know it is, yet that fact doesn’t make it any easier. Gazing into the lifeless body with a fresh coat of red across its midsection, I can only wonder what this rabbit could have done given the chance to live a full life. Most likely nothing, it’s a rabbit after all but you just... you just never know right?

With all my talk and disgust of killing, you’d think I hate death, but no, I don’t. In fact, knowing gods exist and that they can influence people's life like mine assures me that one of them must take care of us when we die.

I’ve read a few stories about the undead and the tales about killing them to save a kingdom or whatever. My dad always said that natural undead was caused when the gods abandon their souls. Mom disagrees, she believed that natural undead are created when their souls wish to stay within this world a little longer. Sometimes I wonder if the undead just wants to protect those they knew that were still living, sometimes I think what if they just want to make the world a place where their deaths would no longer be in vain.

I know necromancy is a school of magic primarily used to raise undead armies or heal bones of the living. Part of me always found a small interest in it, some sort of pull in the back of my mind. It's ironic really that the girl who hates killing wants to be able to bring back the dead, not to kill mind you but to talk to them. Learn their stories and who they were.

“Aylm the Necromancer” I speak aloud.

“... Nah I don’t think that fits the life I picture for me.” Well not first at least, after all, I’ve got three whole classes to use... eventually.

Now that I’ve climbed out of that necromantic rabbit hole, suppose it’s time to do my work here. After a long hour of stabbing, cleaning, and resetting, I’d collected everything we needed for the day and began the track back home. Like always no one is home at the moment, so I quickly place the rabbits in their right spot and moved to grab some tools.

Honestly, it’s a blessing mom has some skills still from her [Bar Maiden] class which helps to preserve the food we have for weeks longer than they should naturally be able to.

I digress, with everything I need on me, and all my chores done for the day, I quickly dash outside and skip around to the back to meet up with father and help him at the forge.

Rounding the corner of our house and down the somewhat hidden path, I can distinctly hear the consistent drumbeat of the hammer slamming against wood and metal. Normally dad would wait around for me to finish chores, but straight out of winter we have a lot to fix around the house and not enough time.

Swiftly running down the trail I quickly enter the small clearing amongst the oceans of trees dad uses for his forge. The small man-made clearing contains everything we could need to create the more basic items we generally make. Closest to the trail is where we keep the numerous containers we need for tools, equipment, and ore. Opposite that is where we keep the less heat orientated equipment such as a sharping wheel, ore crusher, and assembly desk. Finally in the center of it all is my bear of a father hard at work surrounded by his forge and other devices. Obviously in the center of it all is the massive stone forge, to be honest, it has seen better days and is for sure going to need a rebuild soon, but hey it’s our forge that makes it perfect for us. Directly next to the mouth of the forge is the anvil needed to pound away at our creations. Then of course there is the cooling barrel adjacent to the anvil. Outside of a few racks and some miscellaneous equipment, this is it.

One day I hope to see a real proper forge but for now, this is my slice of heaven.

“Oi! Alym quit your gawking and get over here, I need you” Dad roars over the burning inferno within the forge.

“Yes sir!” Jumping into action I grab my gloves and other protective gear while maneuvering towards the mouth of the forge.

“Alright, ready what do you need?’ I ask vibrating with excitement.

“Think there’s a hole in this fucking forge.” He explains.

“Language!” I retort.

“Stop sounding like your mother, I need you right now. Like I was saying, think there’s a hole in this damn thing. Metals not heating up like they should be so it’s getting tricky to mold them. I need you to quickly pull it out and keep it still on the forge, I’m gonna have to move hard and quick so hold on tight and don’t hurt yourself.”

Shit, the old girl might need fixing sooner than we thought.

“Alright, dad got it, ready when you are,” I exclaim hands ready on the prongs to drag the iron from the grasps of the forge.

“Now!” Dad yells.

With one quick motion, I pull the molten ore from its prison and slap it down onto the anvil. Father lifts his mighty hammer coming down hard onto the metal. Bracing for the impact I dig my heels into the ground ready for the blowback.

As the hammer makes contact, I feel the shockwavereverberate throughout my body as my arm and hands start to go fuzzy. Before I can properly recover dad is coming down again onto the slab of metal. Once again, my body shakes with impact, but I hold firm. Then he brings down the hammer once more, then another time, and another, before the metal finally goes cold. With the remaining strength holding out in my little arms, I lift the malformed slab back into the forge to reheat once more.

Holy shit! That felt awful. Looking around I can tell dad planned on getting more than one tool done today. Sigh It’s going to be a long day huh.

Several hours go by like the first ten minutes. Metal heats, I get my arms turned into mud, then put the slab back in, rinse and repeat. Saving grace to the whole system was about halfway through we started working with copper over iron, which is considerably moremalleable and far easier on my body.

Although the forging was done, we weren't anywhere near being finished. While dad began putting most of the forging equipment away, I got started sharpening and refining any of the blades or tools that need such treatment. A few knives and dagger were piled up next to me along with a few dozen arrowheads nearly ready for use. The ear-piercing sound of stone smothering metal washes away any potential conversation to be had, although knowing father he is quite content to silently whittle a few handles and arrow shafts.

As the sun begins to fade out of sight through the tree line, we embark on our final process for the day. Now that all tools have been prepared and dad has finished all the little techniques, I don’t have the [skills] or knowledge to do, we begin to assemble everything we made today.

We quickly plow through the arrowheads attaching them to their respective shafts and finally placing them in a quiver or two, then we start on the more complex tools. Recently we built a second assembly station as a sort of acknowledgment of my hard work from dad.

Grabbing the first blade we made today, I quickly give it a smooth sanding to be safe. With the polished blade in hand, I gently place it on top of the first part of the hilt. Whence it’s perfectly balanced I slowly lay the second half on top with the placement pin already in position. Finally, with most of the parts in place, I nab a pint of sap we use to glue it all together.

With the sap efficiently lathered onto the needed area, I slowly and carefully walk towards a subsection of the forge. Letting the knife cook in a much colder area of the forge allows the sap to seep into the lining and lets the blade meld to the wood without damaging the hilt itself.

After a hot minute of rotating, I pull the knife back from the forge. The final work is no masterwork but is a fine blade considering what we’re working it. The blade its self is about seven inches long with a single edge; the hilt would fit perfectly for someone my dad's size. The hilt although lacking any design does have a thin ash coating which will help to give the hilt color and easier to find if ever dropped. The blade will work well enough and will primarily be used for skinning and cutting strips of meat for dinner.

“Welp one down and... shit” Well damn, looks like I’m here for a while huh.

Name – Alym

Race- Human

Age- 15 year

Awakening – 1 Month

Class 1 - [Locked]

Class 2 - [Locked]

Class 3 - [Locked]