"Alright, I think this is enough," I said as I picked up the piles of wood I've finished chopping, placing my rusty axe down near the stump, wiping the sweat from my brow as I exhaled a breath of relief, taking in the fresh air coming from all around me. My muscles felt a strong ache everywhere as I seemed to have had used up most of my energy without taking note of the time.

"Zach! Come back! It's almost time to eat!" a voice in the far distance sounds, calling my attention as I hear my name.

Though, I don't think anyone else here's named or called Zach, seeing as were the only ones living here, deep in the wilderness. I ease up my muscles and lift as many as I can, running back to the way I came from, following a paved road that leads up to a small slope, then to a lush, clear, green field where a simple lodge stood, smoke coming from its chimney.

I've grown up seeing this view my entire life, but I never grew tired of it. In fact, I always admired it, wanting to sometimes go beyond my boundaries, traveling to places I only read about in books.

In the far horizon, beyond our lodge stood a breathtaking display of mountains covered in snow. The view of the sun during sunrise and sunset were the times I enjoyed the most, often finding myself outside for most of the time.

As I closed in on the lodge, I could smell a captivating aroma which further aroused my nose, making me quicken my pace, still being careful not to drop anything I'm carrying with me.

"Mom, Dad, I'm back!" I yelled out upon entering the room, seeing the sight of my old man, sitting on one of the dining chairs, reading a book with his glasses, his trimmed white beard and muscular looking body made him look younger despite the passage of time and age.

"Ah, Zach, you're finally back. How did it go?" he spoke, closing his book and placing it down on the table along with his glasses, standing up to help me with my load.

"Ah, ah. You sit down, Dad. I wouldn't want you to break your back again. You know how expensive the medicine is for back pain. And the merchant barely even passes by anymore. I'll handle this," I said, smiling at him as I placed the pile of firewood down the pile along with the others, replenishing our supply.

"Take a seat, my dear. Zach, I'm just about done, so please sit down as well. Have you planted the saplings yet? The forest needs to grow after all," a soft-spoken, gentle, youthful looking woman said, wearing a long, white blouse and a beige, long skirt. She had a chestnut colored, long, brown hair that went all the way to her hips.

"I think I've planted enough to cover a pretty good expanse of the forest. I might just be able to grow a small forest of my own if I keep this up."

"Oh my. Then you must be really tired if you did all that. Would you want to rest first?" she asked, looking genuinely concerned, ignoring her cooking, putting me ahead as usual.

I never did mind that, but she often goes to great lengths when there's something wrong with me. It's her who I can never match since whenever I think I've repaid all her deeds to me, she cares for me and Dad even more. It's as if age never weighed her down in the first place.

"And miss your cooking? Not for anything in the world! You know how much I look forward to that. I'd do any task for it, honestly," I laugh jokingly at her.

"Oh you. Don't overwork yourself," she resumed.

This has become the usual routine. Mom is cooking and cleaning around the house, Dad is reading something to keep him entertained... Well that wasn't the usual case for Dad.

He used to be a warrior believe it or not. He often told me about his many adventures and accomplishments during his time, and by the end of every story I'd find myself imagining that I was him, and that I was as strong as he was in his stories.

He trained me himself during my early days of childhood, back when he was still in active duty somewhere. Though I learned a lot, I was never really able to beat him as he would never hold back in any of our sparring lessons, becoming strict to a great degree whenever he wields his sword...

That was until his back began aching, and other parts of his body started feeling the weakness that came with age. So, I ended up teaching myself as he lectured from a distance.

"After we've taken our fill and rested, let's start practice once more. I think you're getting there, but it's still far. I don't want you getting too complacent, thinking that you're getting close to my level, ha ha ha!" he laughed jovially, looking as happy as ever when we talk about training.

"Of course. I'll be looking forward to it. It's just a shame that you're not able to spar with me anymore. I might just be able to beat you with ease," I grinned a bit, wanting to bait his feelings of pride, which surface more than often when I boast about my growth.

"Ha! Don't be too overconfident, boy! Just remember that a broken back's the only thing keeping you from being embarrassed in front of your mother!"

"Hush, both of you. it's time to eat. The table is no place for fighting, or even talking about it. Here, we give our undivided attention to the food," Mom intervened, setting down the plates, then the food, making me gulp at the sight, making my sense of smell tingle as the aroma wafts to my nose.

"I'll second that! Alright, let's give praise and eat, shall we?" I said, pulling Mom's chair for her to sit down on.

"Thank you, Zach" she smiled with her youthful and beautiful face. "Well then, let's eat."

"Your mother always has a way with words. That's how she stops me. Isn't that right, Elaine? Ha ha ha!" Dad joined in, feasting on the heaven brought meal that I've always fathomed and envied as I have been unable to replicate it perfectly whenever I would cook for them instead for Mom.

"Don't worry about packing things up. We'll just be nearby at the clearing, close to where you planted the saplings," Dad said, taking his cane and walking impatiently towards the door.

I wasted no time after resting and letting my meal fully digest, taking my sheathed sword, one that was given to me by my father, and used by him.

"Dear, Zach and I will be training for a bit outside. We will return shortly, so don't fret. We'll be back right away to keep you safe."

"Don't you worry about me, dear. I'll be fine on my own. Both of you take care now. And don't overexert yourselves, that goes to you most importantly, Zach. I won't have to worry about your father since he can barely run around at all," she teased, still acting strict, but with good intentions as always.

"Sorry, Mom, but I'll have to overexert myself a bit if I want to be as strong as Dad, otherwise he'll keep holding it over my head," I said as I ran through the door, catching up to Dad, who hadn't gotten that far considering how he walks at a slow and steady pace with his cane.

As we distanced away from the house, I saw Mom standing by the doorway, waving with a smile as she saw us off.

"What are we doing today?" I asked, breaking the silence as we entered the forest full of rustling leaves.

"The usual. If you want to be better or at least be good at something, you'll need to focus on one thing and improve with that. Only after that can you hope to learn and master another. There's no easy way to being strong, after all."

"Is that how you got strong?"

"Indeed. I trained constantly until I passed out once due to exhaustion. I guess reckless devotion truly pays off."

Walking even farther away as we spoke to each other, we entered a clearing where I dug the holes for the saplings, leaving enough space for them to grow individually as the trees in this forest grow wider and taller than your average tree.

"Here should be a nice spot. And there's even a stump reserved for me. How convenient," he said, sitting down and setting his cane to the side.

"You're welcome by the way. So, what do I do now?"

"First, I want you to practice the same thing we did last time. Cut the air with your sword, or in other words, practice slashing downwards from an overhead stance."

I did as he told me, taking the sword out from the sheath on my waist and taking a firm stance, facing nothing in general.

I tightly gripped the hilt of the sword with my two hands, feeling my muscles tense up as I raised the sword up over my head. And at the same time, I brought it down with a sharp exhale of my breath, moving a step forward, then taking a step back, repeating the process, just like I've done many times.

"Make sure to put some force into your arms. Or if what you hit is durable or strong, move farther with your legs and move your entire body with you. Allow the weight of your body to be distributed. An overhead with be best utilized with a good coordination in your body. But be sure to not tense up too much, otherwise your joints will ache fast," he began spewing orders, those if which I adjusted to, immediately feeling the slight effect of its change.

"So, does it feel a bit less taxing?"

"Yes, amazingly. I guess I've been doing it wrong the entire time. It feels as if I could strike stronger with this."

"There's nothing wrong with improvising, remember that. Fighting with a sword means to adjust to any opponent. If you stick to one form, you'll be great in that aspect. But if you add your own forms and use each of them effectively, then you will be a terrifying foe."

This was how things went for the most part. Though the odd thing is that I never really questioned why I had to train in the first place. It strung from a few events, then to this. Maybe I simply accepted it since I realized that I could protect my parents when I got older, or if something ever bad happens, I can be sure to protect them from anything.

Leaving only a few hours after noon, the sun seemed to set as a faint orange light pierced the leaves and onto the ground around us. It seems that the day's curtain was beginning to set, and that our time for training was nearly drawing to an end.

As I was continuing my training, the bush behind me began rustling, and we turned our attentions there without delay.

"Stay silent and calm. Prepare your sword, Zach. I don't know what hides behind those bushes, but do not let your guard waver," he whispered, inching his hand to his cane, which he held as a defensive weapon, still sitting down as he narrowed his eyes in that direction.

I placed my sword before me, looking intensely at the bush where the sound came from. It gave off this slight feeling of dread, something I've been conscious about.

I thought about one essential thing that a person who wielded something that could take other's lives. A blade. But before that, could they even move themselves to kill someone, or something? I've never done anything like that, save for hunting animals for food. Maybe this is fear bubbling up from inside of me, or anticipation.

It lunged from where it hid at breakneck speed, catching me off guard as I fell to the ground, disoriented, feeling a slight tinge of pain on my back.

"Zach, get up! It's too dangerous to sit down!" I hear my Dad yell out desperately, an advice which I took without delay, doing as he said.

Before I could realize it, the being, which I haven't even gotten a decent look at, lunged at me, making a beam of light shine as his sword came deathly close to me. At this time my instincts seemed to kick in as I placed my sword before me, holding it with shaking arms. Relenting, the being followed through with another strike, slashing at my arm, causing it to bleed, sending an intense lash of pain to me.

I screamed, feeling the cold touch of a blade for the first time, destroying my morale completely as it backed away, growling menacingly as its cold, blue eyes seemed to pierce into my soul.

I checked my surroundings, seeing a heavily wounded man with armor that seemed beyond saving. His face was pale, as if he were dead. His shoulders were slumped forward as he held his chipped-off longsword with one arm, breathing heavy with a cloud of smoke.

"What is this?!" I said, unable to comprehend the being in front of me due to my lack of knowledge on anything beyond the borders of our home. Though Father had told me of many things that was in his book, he mentions those of monsters. But this one looks far from being a monster. It's human, but not.

"Raise your sword. This is no time to hesitate! We can't let it escape or roam about. Otherwise it'll bring harm to us sooner or later. Or even worse, it might bring even more," Dad struggled to get up, taking his position behind me with haste, shouting commands which exited through my other ear.

As far as I was concerned, I was petrified. I couldn't move at all despite being in reality. This... thing, it gave off an aura that I could only call deathly terrifying. It looked like a simple shove could break his entire body, but the thought of getting closer to it made chills run down my spine.

It growled, waking me from my daze. Then it began rushing, its sword arm lagging behind. The thing possessed an impeccable amount of speed, making me panic as we ran out of distance between each other.

"Zach, be ready to parry the thing's attack! Don't be afraid, otherwise it'll be fatal!" he said. Though his words were convincing and encouraging, my arms felt heavy despite holding the sword in front. It felt like if I attacked, it would mean little to it.

But nevertheless, I chose to steel myself; the words of my father became overwhelmingly stronger in the face of fear it seems.

As it got closer, it swung directly at me, not taking a stance, moving his body to the left in order to create a strong momentum to as it attacked from my left side.

Acting on what I've been taught, I step sideways to my left, my body now facing the oncoming sword.

I motioned briefly, inching the sword up and bringing it down to meet the fiend's weapon, clashing with a high-pitch, deafening clank of metal, sending a harsh ripple of vibrations through my arms, a sensation which I've never felt before.

"Excellent! Now attack him! Don't hesitate!"

I followed through miraculously, swinging my sword to the right, attacking the disarmed thing as I sliced diagonally through it storso, then another, swinging upwards, then finally down on its left shoulder, bringing it down with disgust.

The thing fell to his knees due to the force I exerted with my attack, unmoving, looking to be dead as the blue glow in its eyes disappeared.

I fell to my knees, letting go of my blood-stained sword, unable to believe what I had just done. It didn't feel natural at all. The food I consumed started making its way back up to my gullet, but I suppressed it in time, turning away instead at the sight of the dead man.

"Zach! Are you alright?! Come, let me see what's wrong with you," Father came rushing despite the pain he felt on his back. The expression of pain in his face showed that he disregarded that, coming close to kneel in front of me, placing both hands on my shoulder.

My entire body shuddered relentlessly, ceasing only after I felt my Father's warm embrace as he spoke saying, "It's alright, my son. Calm down. I know this was sudden. But breathe in and out. Once we return, your mother and I will do something about your wound."

"Who knew using a sword like this made you weaker. I thought That it gave you strength?" I said jokingly instead of succumbing to the uneasiness I was feeling. How pathetic. I was unprepared for something I've trained for.

"Holding a sword doesn't necessarily make you a stronger and better person. It's why you wield a sword and whom you wield it for that makes all the difference. Remember that. A sword is meant to protect someone, never to take," he parted from me, standing up as I aided him onto his cane.

"But I can't really calm down after I know what that thing is. I don't think it's a person, or anything. It's out of the ordinary, something I've never seen before."

"That was a Revenant. A being whose soul has been taken over by a demon's, and is being used as its new host body. But what I want to know myself is why it was so heavily injured. A demon took over the body of someone wearing such high class looking armor. This does not mean well for us. Come, let us go back to your mother. I worry about her. I'll explain what I can on the way," he said with urgency and a serious expression, frantically walking at a faster pace as I followed him.