A/N: Someone pointed out to me that Isaac does not seem very childlike. This is an attempt to address that. Also, it's a little snapshot of what is happening during his training.

A Sunlit Interval

“Welcome home, darling.”

“M-Mom? You’re back…early?”

“The office gave us half-day for today, dear. Oh, what’s that in your hands?”

“Um…It’s my project. I…I got my results back today…”

“Will you let me see it?”

Isaac handed the sheet of paper to his mother with trembling hands. She saw it, and frowned for the tiniest moment. She looked it over and her face brightened.

“Oh! You did rather well! So, a report about Japanese samurai, was it?”

Isaac was not expecting a compliment. He blushed, a hesitant smile on his lips. “Um…It was a group project…I just did my part…”

Mom folded her arms around her son. “You did your best and you got a good grade for it. Of course I’d be happy about it! Well done, Isaac!”

Feeling full and warm, Isaac leaned into the embrace.

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Thistle

Isaac woke with a snort, sitting at a messy wooden table instead of the house in his dreams. He blearily looked over the scattered rune-etched clay tablets, diagrams scribbled in charcoal and a rather ordinary iron dagger that was threatening to fall over the edge.

Reaching out and rescuing the dagger, Isaac stretched out. He did not remember falling asleep at the table, but that was what had happened. It was not the first time he had dreams like that. Each time, he felt extremely homesick afterwards. Now that he more or less could recall his past, Isaac had to endure these flashbacks in his sleep. There remained large blank spots he could not remember no matter how hard he tried though. Keeping busy was the only way he could keep the sense of loss at bay.

A week ago, Malcolm ambushed him with a group of malcontents and gave him a serious beating. However, he and his lackeys did not get away with it. The very next day, Nils expelled them all from his training because they had broken one of the laws set down by him at the very start of their own courses: ‘Never abuse your skills for your own gain, nor out of petty greed, nor tyranny.’

While many of the ex-trainees had protested, Malcom had remained eerily calm and gathered them all together. After a hushed discussion, they left without further incident. Isaac, however, was nursing a bad feeling about them. Their behavior was too suspicious for his taste.

Training had accelerated on all fronts. Nils issued real weapons and armor to Isaac’s batch of trainees and occasionally took them out on monster extermination missions. Sage Ulrym judged him ready for actual battle spells and started with a basic Mage Knight’s training. Kiernan had him study up on the creation of wands, staves and rune-charms. In order words, he was being worked to the bone.

This day, Isaac was given a rare free day to rest and recuperate. He felt that it was well-deserved, given the very exciting day he just had…

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Briarweald

Yesterday

Isaac and a Hare Poukha raced through the trees, a gigantic beast hot on their heels.

His companion was named Jacine and wore light leather armor. She wielded a war-pick in one hand and a buckler over a gauntlet in the other. Her buckler was strapped to her forearm, to allow use of her hand. She wore soft shoes instead of boots. Favoring light, mobile combat, her powerful legs allowed her to rebound off tree trunks and branches, touching the ground only rarely.

Isaac himself wore a simple scale-mail coat. He had a sword drawn in his right hand and a wand in his left. He twisted to fire a provoking dart of flame back at the monster, keeping its attention on them. He may not be ricocheting madly off the foliage like his fellow trainee, but he kept up by vaulting over obstacles.

Ahead of them, the rest of the class lay in wait. This monster was tougher than they expected – this was the second ambush they were attempting. The first one involved boar spears.

It had technically been a success, but the Hate Tusk was treating an entire spear impaled in its torso as a mere annoyance.

It had been charging endlessly at random members of their group ever since. This was a boar-like monster the size of a small hut, with tusk like lances, a mouth full of sharp teeth and horny plates growing out of its hide. When Nils had briefed them about it, he described it thus;

“It hates the world and wants to kill everything. Now you must kill it. Good luck.”

By now, the trainees had expected this sort of careless explanation from Nils. He had started off giving them detailed explanations about enemies they might find and how to defeat them, but those explanations became more and more sparse each time. This was his way of training them to anticipate and adapt to surprises in a fight. Unlike Mercia, the village’s surrounding woods were not patrolled as well due to lack of manpower. The Royal troops did go on an annual Kingdom-wide Monster Slayer Expedition (a.k.a. the Wild Hunt) through all of the woods of the Svartalfar Kingdom, but in the time between visits, the villages often had to fend for themselves.

This meant that monsters got stronger the farther they lived from Kingswood. Briarweald was on the borders. This meant that monsters were very dangerous and survival often was a matter of teamwork. That will remain true until the Players inevitably get strong enough.

Right now, Isaac and his team were treating this fight very seriously. Jacine whistled sharply, meaning that it was time to spring the trap. With a controlled breath, Isaac reeled off a short incantation.

“Frigid jaws devour the earth – [Frostbite]!”

Magic blazed through the wand held in his left hand. Pointing it forwards, he fired a white mass of energy which struck the forest path before him, turning it white with frost immediately. He leapt over the frozen patch and heard the breaking glass sound of razor-sharp icicles erupting from the frost-covered ground.

The basic arrow spell attuned to ice magic had a two-step effect if it hits an empty patch of surface. It coats the place with slippery ice and a delayed effect turns the ice patch into a deadly trap.

The pain-filled squeal behind him was accompanied with the crash of breaking ice. Of course, he was not expecting that to stop a large beast like the Hate Tusk. It was meant to force the beast to close its eyes and miss the real trap. With the sound of whips cracking, the Druid Apprentice among their group commanded vines to tighten into a massive trip-wire.

Jacine and Isaac cleared the vines easily. The Hate Tusk did not.

Forced to charge blindly, its hooves slipping on icy ground and now tripped by vines enhanced to the strength of steel cables…The Hate Tusk’s momentum was wrested from its control. It flipped and tumbled wildly on its sides before coming to an abrupt halt.

Roaring a battle-cry, Mikkre, a burly Badger Poukha, hefted his Warhammer and unleashed a thunderous smash into the soft underbelly of the boar-like monster. It drew a sharp squeal, but once again they underestimated the Hate Tusk’s unnatural endurance. It rolled upright with such swiftness it caught Mikkre by surprise. A huge swipe from its head bowled the man into a tree, his life preserved only due to the heavy iron plates he wore.

Isaac saw its beady eyes lock onto him. It stamped the ground and charged again, throwing deadwood and moss up from under its hooves. Throwing himself desperately aside, he rolled and stood up just in time for the monster to bust a hole entirely through the trunk of the giant tree he was standing in front of. The ancient green titan shook and groaned, littering the ground with leaves and branches. The Hate Tusk slid, its legs pumping as it fought its own inertia. Its mad gaze was still fixed on its target.

Isaac lifted his wand…what was left of it. He eyed the splintered end with distaste. The monster boar must have clipped it on the way past.

Thankfully, the Hate Tusk was very handily distracted by a speeding blur that was Jacine. She had leapt from high in the boughs to turn herself into a missile aimed right at the monster. The Hate Tusk let out a strangled grunt in surprise, its legs splayed from the impact. The girl swung her war-pick into the monster’s side, causing blood to spurt high into the air. This time, its squeal was ear-splitting. Jacine yelped when her ride began to buck and toss.

After Nils’ harsh training, Isaac was able to keep his cool and decide on a plan of action. The only magic spell he could use right now without hurting Jacine…was Wind magic! Withdrawing his last wand from a holster tied to his thigh, Isaac aimed it at the bucking monster.

“In Warring Skies dwell Unseen blades – [Gust Razor]!”

A whirling discus of air, glowing green with magic infused within it, whipped itself into existence just beyond the tip of Isaac’s wand. It flew with incredible speed towards the Hate Tusk. Brow furrowed in concentration, Isaac guided its flight with twitches of his wand. The wind spell impacted right into the Tusk’s left eye – a [Critical Hit]!

The sudden agony caused the Tusk to rear onto its hind legs. Jacine seized the chance to rip her weapon free and leap off its back to safety.

Predictably, the Hate Tusk’s gaze was once more focused on Isaac. This time, however, its remaining eye was filled with a mad red glow. It was [Enraged]. Forgoing its habit of pawing the ground, it exploded off the ground, right towards its current nemesis. Half-hidden behind another giant tree, the Druid Apprentice, who was wearing a brown cloak, extended her hand and made a fist. Thorned vines burst through the undergrowth in an attempt to ensnare the charging Hate Tusk.

The vines halted it only for a few seconds before snapping, but they successfully robbed the monster of its initial speed.

Isaac’s hand slid his wand back into his holster. Grabbing the scabbard at his waist, he sheathed his sword. Feeling the cold chill down his back, he hoped he was making the right decision. With the monster’s entire left-side vision gone, it was the best time to use this move. He lowered his stance, ready to move swiftly. His left hand adjusted his sheathed sword until the pommel was almost parallel with the ground. His right hand hovered over the grip.

Being a western-based fantasy, [Drawing Slice] was a very obscure skill. It was not until the advent of the ‘Star-People’ did its usage begin to spread. The only experience Isaac had with any sort of melee combat was that project he did on samurai when he was twelve. Curiosity was what led him to try copying some of the techniques he had studied about. When prompts for [Potential Skill] had appeared, it was all the motivation he needed to keep practicing. Now, he shall reap the rewards.

The Hate Tusk barreled closer and closer to Isaac. He felt as though the world was narrowing down until only him and the incoming monster remained. They were almost about to collide.

20 feet.

10 feet.

5 feet!

Isaac’s boot pushed off the ground. His right hand grasped the hilt. The left hand guided the cut with the scabbard.

He ended bent forwards, his bloodied sword outstretched. The moment when he connected with [Drawing Slice] felt surreal, almost like it did not happen. But when he turned around, the sight of a thrashing Hate Tusk, its left foreleg lying a fair distance away, greeted him. A long spatter of blood trailed back to the stump. The monster’s leg was covered with tough plates. Any ordinary sword would have broken on it.

Wishblade (Rank 1)Prerequisites: Leyline Essence

A blessing from the leylines in the earth that runs through your body and empowers any [Sword]

you wield. As your might grows, so does this power.

- Durability decline is slowed

- Equipped [Sword] ignores 20% physical resistance.

- Equipped [Sword] deals 10% more damage to Elite Monsters and above.

But in his hands, no sword is ordinary.

A twinge of pain brought Isaac back to his senses. He looked down to his left arm, seeing the long gash in the mail and the bloody rip in his flesh. He felt a chill race down his spine. He had come entirely too close to being gored.

“Nice!”

The Druid Apprentice was giving him a thumbs-up gesture, her white teeth flashing in a grin. Isaac nodded in acknowledgement.

“Let us end this!”

Mikkre had re-appeared, his own eyes glowing red like the monster’s. He raised his hammer as he charged and brought it down onto the Hate Tusk’s head. There was a great crack as a tusk flew off. And yet, the monster still lived. Its squeals only got more enraged. The entire group quickly gathered around the fallen monster. As one, they raised their weapons high and plunged it them down.

Finally, finally, the Hate Tusk died.

Everyone was exhausted. The long battle had sapped reserves that were already taxed by a long period of tracking the monster.

“Good work, all of you.” Their trainer, Nils, said as he stepped into view. He had been nearby from the start, watching over them so that he could step in if they were in a situation that they could not escape from. “You did not need my help at all this time. Good.”

Everyone smiled wearily. This enemy was the most dangerous they had so far. The fact that they could hold their own was a sign of how far they had come. “However, there are several mistakes.” Nils continued gravely. “Trainee Mikkre, you’ve seen the Hate Tusk’s strength. Trying to overpower that beast even after knowing the fact was not wise.”

The badger Poukha ducked his head in agreement. “Overconfidence bested me this time. I have no excuse.” He admitted.

“Adelaide. Did it not occur to you to use your vines to break Mikkre’s fall?” The Druid Apprentice stiffened, then slouched under her cloak. “Oops…it didn’t occur to me…” she mumbled.

“And you. Trainee Isaac.” Nils switched the target of his stare. Isaac straightened up instantly. “You took a reckless gamble near the end. While it led to victory, your skill was not enough to prevent injury. I shall spar with you personally until you no longer move so sloppily.”

Isaac grimaced. “Yes, Ser!” He replied. When Nils had caught him attempting to learn [Drawing Slice], the veteran instantly took over his personal training. His solution was to spar with his trainee endlessly until Isaac could use that skill effectively in a real fight. Later, Nils had explained that watching him butcher the skill had been painful to watch, so he intervened out of sheer irritation. After that, he became interested enough to try basing an entire style off [Drawing Slice]. Isaac was thus rewarded with a complete Active Skill, a sword style in the making and a rather bruised ego.

The bear hummed in satisfaction. “Hm. With this, I declare this expedition over.” He ambled over to the Hate Tusk. To everyone’s awed gazes, he easily hefted the massive corpse up onto his shoulder with one arm. The house-sized corpse engulfed Nils in its shadow, yet he carried it like it was a bale of hay! “Tomorrow, all of you shall have a day of rest. This fellow here shall be our dinner, for today we celebrate!”

The monster roast was indeed delicious.

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Thistle

Present Day

Isaac smiled at the memory. These moments of joy allayed the grey mood he often found himself in these days.

The first time he recalled feeling like this was after his very first expedition with Nils. They had gone to clear out a Redcap burrow. The misshapen little monsters did not give them much trouble, but they had to venture into the burrow itself to clean it out. And what they found in there…

They had all rushed out to retch, despite having already emptied their stomachs after their first kills. There were tiny little corpses in there – some still had frightened faces. Nils had carted the sad remains out together with them. In the end, he told them:

“This is the price of failure.”

Isaac had nightmares afterwards. It was the first time he felt so homesick that all the energy felt drained from his limbs.

Six years. He had not realized just how many years had passed. He just had to open his menu screen and there it was, stamped onto the Real-Time clock. Counting the days that had passed since he started living in Myth/Real, six long years had somehow blinked by. He had fallen into a coma when he was thirteen. Now he was nineteen and yet he did not feel like he had aged. If he was wiser, it was only due to the things he had gone through since he had awoken.

Sometimes, he was kept awake at night. Has his family forgotten him? Would they even recognize him if they saw him in the body he now inhabited?

He was afraid of the answers to those questions. They caused a hollow dread in him that made him want to collapse on the spot and return to that empty place.

But…

He had promised. He promised to win. Not just over Malcolm, but also himself - that weak self whom always gave in.

So he had to keep getting up every day. He tried to hold on to the happy things and let it fuel that small [hope]. And, in case his fears came true…

He would hold on. He promised.