The next day, I woke up breathless. It felt like someone’s eyes were fixated on me, from the darkness, from somewhere I couldn’t comprehend, at every moment in time. Behaviors of people I once knew inside out— my mother, Millie, and the others— they became and suddenly, they had new

  Memories that had no reason to exist.

  Khyra, Gildenheim….

  It was then that the visions returned to me— except they were only visions of of the door. The door to Sara’s secrets.

  Now, more than ever, there was a feeling.

  A feeling that

  And yet, Cidris wouldn’t let me even step foot near it.

  Weeks passed, and I almost forgot about all the strangeness, letting my heart melt while playing around with Sophie.

  But no… NO!

  It to come back, to appear again, just to haunt me. Instead of the door now, there was a scene constantly replaying itself in my mind.

  Every night, I would wake up drenched in cold sweat.

  That scene, went like this:

  Two wooden stakes, tall and straight, stood upon the black mountain.

  Two heads, lifeless yet smiling, were skewered atop the stakes.

  Blood poured from their eyes…

  And then, a grotesque, horrifying flame lit itself, charring their heads away.

  Those two heads, the ones I saw in the dreams, were ones that I recognized— yet I didn’t know their names. It was the blonde-haired, blue eyed boy that I was supposed to be friends with, and the girl who had remained with me even in death.

  I was ashamed to admit to myself that I still didn’t know anything about them.

  Three months passed, and the feeling that someone or some was watching me never left my skin. The warmth of my mothers and fathers arms were no longer there, instead replaced by an eternal bitterness, a biting cold that I couldn’t escape.

  Like a cornered ant, I slowly ran out of options.

  What was I doing wrong?

  Cuswoth was gone.

  I was training.

  I was learning…

  No, I couldn’t exactly say that I was. Because even though I had vague descriptions of many overarching things, I didn’t know much about the specifics of the world I had been brought into. What was the history of this world? Its races? Its civilizations? Its politics? Its people? And even within that, there were hundreds of other questions I could have asked.

  Like… What was it?

  I realized that I did not know.

  “Amir! Come out! Aren’t you excited for your training?” My father shouted, though his voice didn’t carry all that well to the upstairs bedroom I was in. I quickly ran to the window, throwing aside the blinds and opening it up.

  Wind slammed against my face as I cried as well, inexplicably happy.

  “Yes, father!” I smiled with my eyes.

  Throwing on nothing but plain clothes and comfortable leather shoes, I tried not to swallow up the feeling of anticipation and excitement I had right now, dashing outside to the fields where my father was. I didn’t notice my mother’s goodbyes or the front door squeaking behind me as I fully immersed myself with nature, breathing in the brisk wind, and smelling the cold winter flowers.

  My father had made a large clearing in the grass.

  It looked like he’d cut it down himself.

  My father looked happy to see me. “You ready for your sparring, Amir? I know you’ve been practicing on your own, but since you’ve hit five years old now, I’ve decided it’s time to step things up a little.”

  Ah, cut the bullshit! You’ve been saying this to me for forever!

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the bedroom window open, with silhouettes appearing in it. For a second I was scared, but I quickly noticed the figures to be of my mother, who was pumping her fist into the air laughing, and Sophie, my precious sister who was trying to copy my mother.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Yes, this was the way to train.

  “Of course, father!” I shouted, puffing out my chest with confidence.

  He chuckled, throwing something to me.

  Then, he tossed a few more things in my direction.

  They landed at my feet.

  …

  Not real weapons, but wooden ones. In front of me there were three choices— a long, curved sword, a one point spear, and finally, what looked to be a hammer, or a mallet of some kind. They were all decent in their own rights.

  I waited for my father’s instruction.

  “Well go on, kid. Choose.” He gestured in a forced gruff tone.

  Hell, that’s all you had to say!

  It would be my pleasure.

  There was another thing I remembered from my previous life— and it was To explain my past-life experience properly… it was like I had an entire personality built, an entire life lived— without the memories. So I still knew how to fight, I just didn’t know… exactly how I had to do so.

  What weapon was I most comfortable using?

  It was the sword. I was a damn warrior, what else would I use?

  But right now, it wasn’t the sword that looked alluring to me. It wasn’t even the It was the that spoke to me… but still, somewhere in my mind, a nagging voice kept at me. Don’t fall into Don’t let make decisions.

  Even this innocent choice was probably something like that.

  To survive, I had to live in paranoia.

  I-I.. I’m not insane!

  I promise…

  “I pick the spear,” I said while lifting it from the ground.

  Spinning it around casually in my hands, I noticed that it was actually crafted very well, albeit the fact it used wooden material, everything else was spot-on. The the the the everything was top notch quality.

  My father watched impressed as I moved it through the air.

  “Whaddya say to a little spar to gauge your abilities? is allowed, obviously.” He smirked as he raised his rusty axe as always— except this time it was a rusty axe instead of a real one. His presence was very imposing and threatening, with the way he was looking at me.

  “Bring it on, father!” I shouted.

  He guffawed heartily, but then he took a stance, narrowing his eyes.

  I lowered my body, gripping my spear tightly.

  It wasn’t like I was bad with the weapon, I just didn’t have any special training to use it, so it would end up terribly if I actually tried to fight with it right now. The point of this first lesson was to show off my control skills.

  Years of training meant steady improvements!

  My father raised a finger, and I stopped.

  “Before we start, here’s your win condition. You have five minutes to move me. All use of or is allowed. If I take a step or use something other than the handle of my axe or my hand, you win. Got that?” My father’s exposition was taking rather long this time, but his energy was there.

  Gritting my teeth, I smiled.

  Blood dribbled from my lip, which I accidentally bit.

  All I had to do was move him?

  He might have been a soldier, but I was a warrior!

  Then, the silence caved in on itself as I wore a grim look on my face, raising my spear and closing my eyes. Almost instantaneously, the in the surroundings flowed through my body, empowering and reinforcing as well as the

  Reinforcing an object was much more difficult…

  Not to say it couldn’t be done!

  Bringing the spear behind my head, I stepped forwards, leaning in, while throwing it as hard as I could. The air snapped and crackled as wisps of Am trailed off of it as it flew straight and true. Using the moment as a distraction, I ran alongside it, and quickly pushed off the ground, boosting myself behind my father.

  Am could be used for this as well.

  Barely making any sound, I mimicked the sound of a spear slicing through the air with my voice, causing my father to flinch for just a second, twitching but not looking behind him. The spear was already at his face, and he lifted his hand to catch it…

  And

  The spear, which was barrelling towards my father at such a high speed it was trouble for me to track it, had been caught by my father so easily that it looked like child’s play. Then…

  Something in me snapped.

  I instantly tore the spear out of his hands, stabbing forwards while he was evading, memorizing every single movement he could make, and then acting against them. I built a prison of energy around him, creating small “gaps” for myself to attack him. Giving no regard to the that using Am made me feel, I fought.

  Except… for the last one.

  Curving around his body, my father didn’t notice the spear coming in towards his blind spot as I launched myself at his throat, attempting to go for his jugular. His veins popped out as he protected his neck with one of his hands, raising the other and knocking the spear away once again.

  He shook his head as I panted, almost out of breath.

  “You have to be smarter! Strength and misdirection isn’t everything! You have Am! Use it! Mold it! ” As my father shouted rapid instructions to me, I wiped the sweat off of my body, rushing in again. Bringing my spear down at breakneck speeds, I felt it piercing through the air.

  He raised his hand to block it, but I just slipped right through.

  Am… Am was the cause of it all. But using it… damnit.

  My father tried to grab the spear, but I was already behind him, leaving a trailing smoke afterimage. He swung at it to no avail, since I had already dug underground, with the spear behind me. Readying my position, I drew my arm back…

  “FASTER!” He shouted.

  Skidding on the ground, I felt my speed quicken as I dashed forwards, sidestepping left and right to avoid being seen. I quickly flashed between steps, hovering in and out of sight as I stabbed at him with the spear from multiple angles.

  Fuck, the spear! My lungs burned, and my legs began to give out.

  Why couldn’t I use it to its full capability? Could it be a lack of experience?

  Stepping behind him and then kicking off the ground with Am reinforcement once again, I let the ocean of energy flood me, coating my body in a dense, armor-like layer. When I brought my hand and spear down this time, it gained more weight, causing my father’s axe to shake under my pressure.

  He seemed impressed.

  Going fully berserk, I ran at him from all directions, trying and failing to move faster than the eye could see. My spear was omnipresent to me, everywhere at the same time, slashing and stabbing and skewering and dicing, leaving parts of his body brusied— yet he still didn’t move.

  His axe didn’t move either. It was just his One goddamn finger.

  “More refined, Amir! Fluidity is key!”

  I grit my teeth once more, trying to make the flow of the Am around me less choppy. I breathed deeply, letting it course through my body like blood, tainting the air as I slammed the spear into my father’s back, slowly slumping down with fatigue.

  It doesn’t feel all that bad, does it?