Arc 7. Death to what came before

  Road to a Hero:

  Three Chances in Another World

  Chapter 11. Peter “Day”

  Eleven AM, February seventeenth, 1499. Peter rolls around his king-sized bed, holding onto his large soft blankets. He’s woken up a few times, but he continues to force himself back to sleep, though he finally gets up as he can no longer drift back into the safety of his dreams. As he lets out a loud and annoyed yawn, his day has officially started. He begins to walk to the kitchen, wandering through his small cozy, but empty cottage. In his kitchen, he begins heating up some water, he finds that even though Edward’s only been gone a few days, the house has become a mess. Books sprawled across the floor, dirty cups piled up, and his oil-stained clothes on the furniture. With a sigh, he begins picking things up, though lazily puts them away, by barely washing the dishes, tossing his clothes into a spare room, and putting the trash in his piled-up trash can. He’s able to do this just as his water is finished, so he pours it into a barely washed up, over top of some tea leaves.

  While he begins blowing on the steaming hot water, he jumps at the sound of knocking at his door. He burns his hand on the water, puckering his face just as he turns to see who it is. But he quickly changes his stance to one filled with bravado as he sees Lisa’s the one knocking, as she’s currency waving at him through his window. He forces himself to sip on the boiling water but is suppressed to see her childish smile drop and turn into one of embarrassment, as he had forgotten to put on clothes at the start of his morning routine. She quickly covers his eyes as he dashes to his room, shuffling over to set down his tea. He looks around the piles of clothes in his room, flipping a pair of underwear inside out, grabbing dirt socks, and his only clean dress shirt, which is force wrinkled, over top of his oil-stained blue overalls.

  Peter: “YES! Blue overalls, become BLUE PANTS!”

  He runs down the hall, right up to the door, and opens it for Lisa to come in. She covers her face, but comes in anyway, awkwardly sitting down on his couch.

  Lisa: “So ... .um…How’s it going since Edward left? It seems…you’re doing well.”

  Her nose is filled with the smell of a sweaty teenage body, and her eyes are drawn to the pile of dishes in the sink, but the sight of the chipper Peter washes it all away.

  Peter: “Yeah, I got this place all to myself, it’s pretty chill. When I used to live with Leo Valentine and the Red Arrows during the whole civil war in Athens thing, I had my own room for being Leo’s right-hand man, and I thought that was cool. Now I have this whole place.”

  He looks to the ceiling, trying his best to brush past what had happened earlier by filling the air with his accomplishments. While he figured it wouldn’t work, Lisa's love for knowledge and just generally being a normal person, while everyone else they’ve interacted with has been famous powerful people, causes her to be infatuated by his words.

  Lisa: “YOU KNOW LEO VALENTINE!? YOU WERE IN THE CIVIL WAR!? YOU WHERE HIS RIGHT HAND MAN! He was fighting under the country, with an army not even the size of Beauregards, and he was winning!? I follow all of Leo's escapades in the sea whenever it’s written about, I used to have my mother gather all of the news she could and give it to me!”

  Peter's face drops at the mention of Lisa's now-dead mother, trying his best not to do anything wrong. But surprisingly, Lisa continues talking without a care in the world.

  Lisa: “TELL ME MORE! What did you do when you worked with him!? How did you start!? Tell me!”

  Peter: “Okay, okay, if I must, and you know how I hate bragging…But I was basically second in command at the age of eleven. I was the best blacksmith, smartest person, and overall best dude in the Red Arrows, other than Leo of course.”

  Lisa: “Well wasn’t most if not all of the Red Arrows normal people?”

  Peter: “Well…yah, but I was still a kid…and I kinda just got everyone else to make all of the stuff. To be honest, I didn’t really lead anything, I just followed Leo around like he was my dad and he just didn’t care. But around a year before the volcano blew up he started treating me like second in command. I did make my Poppers, Wrist Talons, and a few other gadgets that don’t really work. I never used my Poppers against real people, so when I did I realized I really had to make them stronger, and my Wrist Talons were never in a fight either, until Gray used them and they broke pretty fast.”

  Lisa: “But you made all of that other stuff! What about that one guy you fought…his name was Lance right?”

  Lance, the true air to the Valatrositce thrown, the boy whom Peter would often get into disputes with, who he fought, which triggered a lot of the events in Constal, and sadly passed in Peter's arms. Even hearing his name causes Peter's stomach to drop, even when Lisas' mother was mentioned her heart didn’t skip a beat, but Lance's name stops Peter in his tracks. He lets out a huge sigh, stretches his arms, and wants to get his day going.

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  Peter: “Welp, time to get moving'. What are you doing today?”

  Lisa: “Ryo said that Fredrick wanted to meet with me, apparently I can train magic under him.”

  Peter: “Magic!? I know you can use your Mark of Providence, but what magic can you use?”

  Lisa: “I dunno, but he does. What about you?”

  Peter: “I used to spend my days slaving away with Lincoln and some starter cadets, and some time with Rick in his smithing shop, though something else has been added. I need to run over to Gray’s old house, I need to see somebody.

  Lisa stands up, as the stars in her eyes finally die out because she knows where he’s going.

  Lisa: “Welp, I gotta get going. You make the rest of your day, and come see me near the end!”

  Peter waves her goodbye and begins walking off himself, to do something that’s forced itself into his daily routine. He’s done this every day since they arrived back in Greenvale and did the same in the carriage on their way to Greenvale. He walks into Gray's house, heads up the stairs, and sits down beside Soku's room, which has a green aura emanating from it.

  After a while, Erline exits her room, finding Peter still waiting.

  Erline: “You do this every day, and yet you won’t walk inside?”

  Peter: “She wouldn’t want me in her room…can you tell me how she’s doing?”

  Erline: “No, you have to check yourself.”

  Erline walks down the stairs, leaving him sitting by himself once more. Since June sixth, Sokus's birthday, the day she told everyone about her aspiration to become a head figure in leading the country, was the same day Peter holds as the worst decision he’s ever made. He holds it above the day he ran away from his fight with Lance, above the day he fought Lance in the Mayor's office, his time being tortured, the day Athens burned over, and the day his parents passed. Because it was the day he told Soku that her dreams may be too much for her to handle, something that he didn’t fully mean, but something Soku took to heart. It was the day that any relationship between the two was crushed, and the last day she spoke to him. Ever since that day, she hadn’t even said a word to him, and because it took him so long to fully understand what he did wrong, he was never able to apologize. And now she’s stuck, imprisoned in stone, possibly to never be freed. While the soldiers turned to stone during the raid for Walgonia and were able to be freed, only a few woke up, as even though the stone faded, they were comatose. He doesn't know how much stone has faded, or if any stone has faded at all, and even if he wants to know, he can’t force himself inside.

  After a bit of waiting, he stands up, and leaves the house, entering his workshop in the backyard. He goes to begin working on anything to keep him busy, but something shines in the corner of his eye. Laying on the dirt floor is his rope dart, still stained with Rupert's blood. While Gray, Edward, Rosemary, and Soku had progressed so much in such little time, he’s remained stagnant. He’s grown a few inches, along with his hair, but everything else is just a bit better than when he started. To him, the main difference between where he is and where he started isn’t the growth in his mind or his body, but what he’s being given. He’s gone from poor to living in a warring country, and now living in the largest mountain range in the world, in a secret village, surrounded by some of the strongest people in the world. Peter truly believes that if not for all of the resources being given to him, he’d still be making trash with trash. He fails to acknowledge that he was able to do all he could with as little as he had because he is smart. He escaped his captivity because of his ingenuity, he was able to beat Rupert because he created small explosives out of the flame crystal cores around him, but with a mix of his festering skill. The world is not fair, not everyone is born with blessings, but sometimes, it’s almost cruel. Peter, a Dark Elf, coming from a race of people known for their strength, is just a little stronger than the average boy his age.

  He walks over to the rope dart, blows the dirt off of it, looks back at his mess of a workshop, and begins trucking toward Lincoln's home at the top of the hill. The training grounds for the Leviathan army, not with the children who are working to begin their true training, but with the men and women who’ve spent their entire lives living to protect. With each step, he creates a path behind him in the now-melting snow and walks down the unknown path ahead of him. He knows his true strength lies within his mind, but it doesn't hurt to get stronger. He makes it to the top of the hill and begins eagerly knocking on the front door. He’s made this walk a hundred times, but this time, he’s shaking. The floors creak from within, as the sound of Lincoln's wheelchair closens, and quickly opens soon after. Peters met at eye level with the once strongest man in the world, withered down, but filled with more life than he was the previous day and the day before that.

  Peter: “You seem cheerful.”

  Lincoln: “And you seem eager. Need me to lift something?”

  Peter: “Nah, I wanna be able to lift that something.”

  Lincoln: “Alright then, took you long enough.”

  Lincoln’s hands grip the wheels of his wheelchair, something that Peter had made for him, and begins strolling over to the nearby sliding door.

  Lincoln: “I’ve made swing wooden swords, made you walk up the mountain, so you’ve seen heaven. But I’ve taught Athen soldiers, broken them, and now I’ve taught and broken these Leviathan army ants. And now, you’re an ant, so welcome to hell.”

  Lincoln slides the doors open, letting Peter get a look at the large yard filled with men and women swinging swords over and over. Ryo, watching from afar, quickly walks over to greet the both of them, as he’s happy to see them up and moving.

  Ryo: “Peter! What are you doing here? And Lincoln, you’re moving on your own!”

  Lincoln: “I wouldn’t say on my own, and the boy’s here to learn. I know I’m not much of a teacher, but I can see you’ve followed my orders well, or well enough.”

  Peter: “I’m here because I wanna get stronger, or try to get stronger until the others return.”

  Ryo, with a smile on his face, brushes the strands of his hair that fell out of his bun and grabs Peter's hand. He quickly takes him to one of the many lines of soldiers, places him in the back, hands him a wooden sword, and pats him on the back.

  Ryo: “These people got armor because they proved themselves, while I would say you have done this, Lincoln may get mad at me. So, swing this sword until you can’t stand it, and then I’ll ask him.”

  The moment Ryo walks away, Peter's face drops, as he realizes he’s just submitted himself to a day-long, and possibly years of this wretched training process. But, even with that notion, he doesn't walk away. He spends the rest of the day following everyone else, swinging his sword around for two hours, running around the yard for another two hours, and then a one-hour break. During the break, he eats as much as he can, drinks as much water as he can, and starts the process over again. Running two miles while holding a heavy slab of wood, dueling with a random soldier for an hour, and practicing with a weapon of his choice for the remaining two hours, he picks his rope dart. Even though he made it through, it was truly hell. He threw up various times, came out with a lot of brushes, didn’t win a single duel, and felt like quitting over a thousand times. But in the end, he came home, fell onto his bed, and went right to sleep without a care in the world, and only a sense of accomplishment.

  End of Chapter Eleven