Despite my apprehension, the future remained a nebulous, timey-wimey thing, or so said the wisdom of those with doctorates on the subject. While I almost certainly would waste some time worrying about whatever The Crown Academy had in store, I also suspected that my concerns on the matter were comparatively benign compared to the opportunities it would present. In the meantime, I had more immediate things with which to fill my proverbial plate.

  Aylesbury was a transcendent figure. That odd man who rode atop an enormous duck left even the likes of Lionel and Rosita resigned to capitulation. There were powerful people in the world, people whose presence demanded respect. I needed to become one, or, at the very least, someone who could garner their attention. Contacts. Resources. Power. Information. If I was ever going to find a way back home, I needed to push towards those peaks.

  I stumbled on that path, at times, but compared to my goals everything else was… insignificant. It had to be. Even when I got caught up in the occasional moment, or was overcome by the emotions born of my adolescent body, I had to keep the ends firmly in my sight. The means could be secondary. They had to be.

  I felt Perseverance hum slightly in response to my thoughts. Over the years it had become increasingly clear to me that, while external factors were certainly a factor, when it came to the matter of internal motivation, it was the self a person had to persevere against the most. Moments of doubt. Excuses. They were always a temptation. Setting one’s resolve was easy; maintaining it under pressure was the real test. When I wavered, I asked myself two important questions.

  What do you want? I wanted to find a way back home, to the people I loved, who I longed to see again. Is it worth it? Is she worth it? Yes. Always, yes. Even with the passage of time, there was not a lot I wouldn’t have given to see her again.

  There were times I used to toy around with that same idea - back before I was Will - when it came to my grandparents, on the days bittersweet memories demanded I do little else but miss them. What would I have given for the chance to see them again? I wanted to hear their voices, to give them a hug, to ask if they were proud of me and what I’d done, even the parts that strayed from what they believed I’d be capable of because, at the end of the day, I tried my best and needed to hear them tell me that was okay.

  I didn’t have much money. I would have paid it all. My possessions? An easy sacrifice. At the very least I would give one limb, but possibly more. What I wouldn’t have given was the woman who made my heart sing, who made me believe in love I’d once thought reserved for fairytales.

  When I wavered, I asked myself two important questions. My answer to the second question remained the same, no matter the day, no matter the year. The first question, though, always reminded me of the new people who had touched my heart, in a way that let me know I’d mourn their loss should they perish, or if we ever had to say goodbye.

  Would I sacrifice them, too? It was getting harder to answer that question, but I persevered all the same.

  -0-0-0-0-0-

  Fudge’s mana passed through the Tamer Bond, barely a trickle compared to the night I overdrew to force an Advancement for Recovery. For the umpteenth time, I found myself longing for Mana Sense, for despite my best efforts, progressing that ability in any meaningful way without System assistance was proving to be a glacial process. I could feel the presence of the mana in the vaguest sense, a wild, energetic thing occasionally touched by the influence of Fudge’s other Skills, but any nuance beyond that was lost to me.

  Thus far, my experiments hadn’t strayed from Fudge’s Core Skill and Durability. Ultimately, the goal was being able to duplicate the effects of Quantum Manipulation to help Fudge with his own progression. Given the strange nature of the Skill, I wanted to be well versed in the underlying mana-sharing techniques before introducing it as a factor. For the time being, that largely meant taking in small amounts of Fudge’s mana while doing other things, to grow accustomed to the feel of it lest it prove unwieldy in any kind of practical situation.

  “Watch carefully, Fudge.” The dog in question was steadily wagging their tail while I stood opposite a wooden post I’d buried in the little slice of the manor grounds I’d claimed for myself. Already, a number of the pieces I’d commissioned from the craftsmen in town had been delivered and assembled. Watching a man push a nail into solid wood with their thumb instead of using a hammer had been a highlight of that particular day.

  Borrowed mana from Durability wrestled against my control, a wild buck I had to break before it settled over my fist where it was malleable to my intent.

  Protect me from the impact. Using Fudge’s borrowed Skills was different to using my own in that the instinct of it all was different. When borrowing Fudge’s variant of the Dog Skill, I was bombarded by impulses that urged me to use the Skill in ways I imagined mirrored Fudge’s applications. Durability was comparatively quiet, which in some ways echoed by hypothesis regarding the difference between the way Fudge and I understood our Skills.

  My hand lashed out, thudding against the wooden post with enough force to send a rumble up my arm.

  Ouch. The touch of Durability mana I’d borrowed felt like it barely muted the blow. Even so, I smiled. Barely was still something. I pointed the fist in Fudge’s direction so that he might study the slight redness at the point of impact.

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  “See, boy? Progress.”

  Fudge harrumphed in that delightful way dogs do sometimes. I suspected he’d learned I enjoyed when he responded in any fashion, and had taken to doing so for no reason other than the aforementioned enjoyment.

  Dogs are so great. I’d long since decided that I wasn’t leaving Fudge alone when I eventually figured out a way back to my first life, an acceptable allowance since impossible tasks made more impossible were still, simply, impossible. Rather, it’s impossible until I figure it out, at least, I reminded myself.

  A pair of Recovery pulses served to eradicate the lingering impulses from Fudge’s mana and ease the slight swelling of my hand. I was making surprisingly swift progress with the mana-sharing technique. At the small quantities I was working at, the side effects of Fudge's mana were akin to the usual feedback I’d been managing since the changes to our Tamer Bond, like a different frequency of background static.

  Years of manually struggling to maintain the spiritual line between Fudge me and I had yielded an unexpected benefit. I smiled at the thought.

  “No offense, Buddy, but I still want to work on fixing the door,” I teased. Fudge grumbled and sank to the ground with a snort. “Oh, so we are sulking now?” Fudge huffed air out of his nose and I chuckled at the simple silliness of it all.

  I fell back into my clumsy boxing stance and pulled from Fudge’s mana again. Once I grew more confident with the process, I’d have to start trying to emulate how a dog might use the Skill for Fudge’s benefit, which… hopefully no one would watch too closely. Either way, I figured there was also no harm in having him observe in the meantime. Durability mana collected on my other fist.

  “Watch closely, now.”

  -0-0-0-0-0-

  “Before we get started, I want to remind you that I was taught how to fight and apprehend other people,” Eaehdro said as he led me to the training grounds at the primary guardsman barracks in Dorbe. “Squaring off with a Beast is a whole different bucket of root grubs.” Between spreading the word and giving folks time to mull everything over, it had taken me more than a couple of weeks before my search for a combat trainer eventually paid dividends.

  Eaehdro was retired, which also made him one of the most qualified guardsmen in the town. He occupied a sort of deterrent role - ‘woe be to the fools that force him out of retirement’ or somesuch. Fortunately, our first meeting also revealed his years of service gave him an appreciation for The Slayers who occupied a similar societal role. Coupled with the figurative blank cheque I could offer for his regular services, it had been enough to secure the silver-haired man as an instructor.

  “I am aware, sir,” I said, swinging my arms to limber up as we moved. The layers of dry sand spread over the grounds made for irregular footing. “I imagine that most people start with the foundations before making them their own, anyway. Skills make our capabilities so different from one another that I doubt there is a perfect set of techniques for everyone.”

  “Ha! Well said,” Eaehdro loudly agreed; he had a tendency to boom most of his sentences as if he and his conversation partner were on opposite sides of a ravine. “It is always rewarding to have a trainee with a head on his shoulders.” I’d revealed the official story behind the quirks in my development which hadn’t seemed to bother the man. I did notice a couple of the other occupants working on their Skills in the yard who I suspected might have felt differently, if the glances my way were any indication.

  I paid them little mind.

  “Here is to hoping you teach me to keep it there, sir.”

  We came to a stop in front of a pair of training dummies, the kind stuffed with straw and awkwardly mounted on posts. Fudge had padded in behind us and was idly pawing at the sand.

  “You see this? These are training dummies. These are your new best friends. I will also have a smaller one made for you.”

  “What about sparring, sir?” I was by no means an expert, but my exposure to martial arts through the zeitgeist suggested that sparring was an important part of internalizing the process.

  Eaehdro raised a hand to scratch at his goatee.

  “Eventually,” he said, giving me an appraising look. He’d been doing that a lot. “Once you get the basics down and grow a little more I’ll start dragging some of the younger recruits in. I say younger, but most are grown men. You will be at a heavy disadvantage. Even so, since plenty of the Beasts I hear tales about are big bastards, it should serve our purposes nicely.”

  I nodded my head along, a smile on my face.

  That checks out… I think. I’d have to trust Eaehdro if I wanted to take full advantage of his instruction.

  “So, what first? I am ready.” Terrifying realities of the world aside, learning how to fight was a staple for people in my situation - at least, it was in the books I used to love. I couldn’t deny the excitement I felt, like crossing something off a bucket list.

  “Your enthusiasm is good,” Eaehdro said with a chuckle. He walked over to a rack of wooden training swords and retrieved one for me. “It is too large for you, but it will serve our purposes for today. I am confident the sword will not be for you, but it is a good starting point.”

  I frowned slightly, at that. Swords were cool. Eaehdro must have noticed my look of disappointment.

  “I once knew a man who, like you, used the Taming Skill,” he said. “The story is long, and I am of no mind to share all of it, but we learned much from one another. If you insist on the sword, I will teach it to you, but I encourage you to keep my advice in mind.”

  I waited, but Eaehdro was apparently done speaking.

  “Is… is that all, sir?”

  “It is. I am old and allowed my eccentricities. Alternatively, maybe there is wisdom in the way I do things. Will you trust your instructor?” It was like he knew he was throwing my thoughts back at me.

  I chuckled at my own hesitation. Eaehdro was right. If I didn’t want to take his advice, I could buy a sword and teach myself by swinging at trees or something equally ridiculous and likely to get me killed in the long run.

  “I trust you, sir,” I announced, pushing my conviction into the words.

  Eaehdro grinned.

  “Good.”

  Is it possible to tell yourself one thing and feel another? Probably.

  You can read up to 10 Chapters Ahead over on my . Today's chapter includes Will crossing a line, of sorts.

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