“Brother, brother!” Linner shouted loud enough for half the village to hear. “Look what I got!”

The child never seemed to get tired, making Dallion wonder whether he was the only awakened in the family. If stamina was any indication, his younger brother definitely had him beat.

“Look!” Linner rushed up to him, holding a small scaly fish. “Isn’t it great?!”

“Wow, that’s a winner.” Dallion smiled.

If he were to be honest, the fish wasn’t anything special. It was barely large enough to fit in his hand. His brother, however, looked at it as if he’d caught the greatest treasure there ever was. That was the thing about children—they didn’t only enjoy the simple things in life, they enjoyed virtually anything.

“I know, right?! Dad helped me catch it!”

Translated that probably means that his father had actually caught it, but let Linner hold the fish after he’d taken it out of the net. Come to think of it, Dallion didn’t have any memories of fishing either in this world, or Earth.

“Mom promised she’d let me help her cook it! Want to watch?!”

“Oh, yeah.” Dallion said with an indecisive smile. “You go. I need to do something, I'll be right there.”

“Promise?” The child gave Dallion a serious look.

“Absolutely. Do you doubt me?” Internally he sighed. There was no escape now—he had condemned himself to a few hours sitting in the kitchen, observing the cooking. Then again, maybe it wasn’t all bad. He could use a break.

“Okay. Don’t take long!” The child rushed away.

The joys of youth, Dallion smiled. A moment later, he entered his awakening room.

YOU ARE LEVEL 3

The blue rectangle greeted him.

“This is getting old, you know.” He tapped it as he passed by.

It felt as if the room was snickering at him, constantly reminding him that he had failed to increase his level despite all attempts. Well, today Dallion was going to take a different approach. His grandfather had told him that he’d remain defeated until he got rid of the village chief’s echo. If so, this was a perfect time to get rid of it.

Dallion walked into the library. The scribe was there, rearranging the books in the library.

“You again?” the echo snapped the moment Dallion crossed the threshold. “Go do something useful. I’m busy.”

The boy felt an overburdening desire to do as he was told. A voice in the back of his mind reminded him that this was a library and any fighting that took place here would do more damage than the scribe himself. Clenching his fists, Dallion took a step forward despite the internal pressure.

“No!” he said firmly. “I’m not leaving! You are!”

The line felt so cheesy that Dallion was ashamed that he’d even spoken it. Thankfully it had the desired effect. The scribe stepped away from the library and turned so as to face the boy.

“So, you want to fight, eh?” The scribe asked with a half-smile, that only increased the smugness of his tone.

“Not if you leave.” Dallion drew his sword.

“A sword?” The scribe laughed. “Don’t you know that the quill is mightier than the sword?”

The cliché felt like chalk on a blackboard. Dallion winced, then opened his mouth to voice a suitable reply. Before he could dozens of green lines appeared from all over the room, all ending in the boy’s chest.

What the heck?

Dallion’s reaction was immediate, but so were the dozens of quills that appeared out of nowhere, darting at him like a barrage of arrows. Dallion jumped to the side, buckler in front of his face. Guard markers appeared on the floor, but even they weren’t enough to fully save him.

COMBAT INITIATED!

Now you tell me! Gritting his teeth, Dallion knocked down the table, attempting to use it as a second shield. Alas, the only thing that did was to cause the quills to change trajectory.

QUILL WOUND!

Health has decreased by 5%

QUILL WOUND!

Health has decreased by 5%

QUILL WOUND!

Health has decreased by 5%

QUILL WOUND!

Health has decreased by 5%

Seriously?! Dallion rolled to the side. Less than a few seconds had passed and already he’d lost a fifth of his health, not to mention that he remained constantly on the defensive. The scribe had barely moved from his original position, observing the whole thing with mild sadistic amusement. There was no white rectangle above his head, suggesting that the echo would likely die in one hit. However, neither Dallion, nor his skills saw any way of reaching the blond menace. Not a single red marker had appeared, and charging head on was likely going to transform the boy into a porcupine.

QUILL WOUND!

Health has decreased by 5%

QUILL WOUND!

Health has decreased by 5%

More quills poured down from above. At this point, there was only one thing left for Dallion to do.

“I’m leaving!” he shouted, jump rolling towards the door. “I’m leaving!”

A few quills followed, scoring another few hits, but the brunt of the attack had stopped. The next thing Dallion knew, he was back in his house, looking at his brother running towards the kitchen.

As most people who’d gone through such an ordeal, Dallion’s first reaction was to check his body for wounds. The good news was that there were none. The bad news—it didn’t look like he’d defeat the echo anytime soon. If nothing else, he’d have more luck with the sand dragon.

Stupid ranged attacks, the boy grumbled to himself. They’re way overpowered! It’s practically cheating.

“Dallion,” his mother called out. The tone of her voice sounded urgent.

“I’ll be there in a moment.” Might as well watch them cook. Not like I’ll achieve anything else today.

The boy did one final check of his legs and backs, then finding no sign of blood went to the kitchen. When he got there, he found both his mother and brother standing near the window, still as statues, looking at something outside.

“Is dad back?” Dallion asked casually. “Did he bring more fish?”

“It’s not your father…” his mother said, her voice barely a whisper.

Outside, at the edge of the village a small group of people were approaching. They were nothing like the local villagers. All of them were dressed green and yellow medieval tabards with chain armor visible underneath. The leader of the procession was a tall muscular woman riding a brown horse. From what Dallion remembered of his DnD sessions, she probably was a noble of some sort, complete with helmet, shield, and a suit of half armor. As she approached closer Dallion was able to see the crest on her shield: seven different colored spheres on a black background.

“The order of the Seven Moons,” Dallion whispered.