Gareth stepped forward, his expression calm but firm as he picked up a stick from the ground. He crouched, using the stick to draw a wide circle in the dirt, its diameter just about the length of his shoulders. The boy watched him, gripping his spear, his brow furrowing slightly in curiosity.

  “This will be the boundary,” he said, straightening and tossing the stick aside. “If you can force me out of this circle, you win.”

  The boy tilted his head slightly, his tone flat. “That’s it? I just have to make you move?”

  “That’s it”

  The boy’s lips twitched into a faint smirk. “And you’re going to fight me like that?” He gestured toward the ribs, where the injuries were still evident.

  Gareth smirked faintly in return, shaking his head. “Not quite.” He raised one arm and tucked it behind his back, then shifted his weight, lifting one leg slightly off the ground. He balanced easily, despite the apparent handicap." “One arm, one leg. Fair enough?”

  The boy blinked, momentarily caught off guard. Then his smirk widened, his confidence growing. “You’re serious?” he asked, his tone carrying a hint of amusement.

  “Dead serious,” Gareth replied, his smirk deepening. “You said you could handle yourself. I’m giving you the chance to prove it. Or…” He let the word hang in the air for a moment, his gaze steady but now carrying a faint glint of mockery. “Are you worried you can’t manage even this?”

  The boy’s smirk faltered for a fraction of a second, but he quickly recovered, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Fine,” he said, his tone confident. “But don’t blame me when you’re flat on your back.”

  Without waiting for a response, he crouched slightly, his fingers brushing against the ground until they closed around a small rock. He straightened, tossing it lightly in his hand as if testing its weight.

  Gareth raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. “A rock? That’s your opening move?”

  The boy didn’t answer. Instead, he flicked his wrist, sending the rock flying toward the man's chest.

  Gareth’s arm moved smoothly, his hand snapping out to meet the rock mid-flight. The impact echoed faintly as the rock struck his palm. He turned the rock over in his hand, inspecting it with a faint air of amusement before tossing it aside.

  “Smart,” he said, his tone almost teasing. “Scouting me out, are you? But I’ll save you the trouble—this won’t work.”

  The boy’s smirk faded, his expression turning serious. Without a word, he crouched again, his fingers closing around a larger rock. He straightened slowly, feeling the rough edges dig into his palm as he tested its weight.

  A line. He imagined it clearly—a single, unbroken line running through his body, starting at his left sole, traveling up his leg, through his torso, and ending at his right arm. The scattered dots of mana within him began to align along this path, moving with purpose.

  “Strike true,” he whispered, his voice low but resolute.

  He opened his eyes, his grip tightening on the rock. As he shifted his weight, the line in his mind pulsed with purpose. The flow of power began at his left sole, surging upward through his leg and torso, steady and unbroken.

  As his arm moved, the energy followed, gathering in his shoulder before coursing down to his fingertips. The throw was seamless, every part of his body working in harmony as the rock left his hand with precision and force.

  The rock shot through the air, a blur of motion aimed directly at Gareth’s chest.

  The man's eyes narrowed slightly, his body shifting as his instincts took over. His arm moved with precision, the back of his hand sweeping upward to meet the rock. The impact was sharp, a faint crack echoing as the rock’s trajectory shifted. It spun off to the side, slamming into a tree behind him with a dull thud.

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  The tree shuddered under the force, the rock embedding itself deep into the bark, leaving a jagged dent.

  He lowered his arm. “Not bad. But you’ll have to do better than that.”

  The boy crouched low, brushing the dirt with his fingers before scattering it into the air toward Gareth’s face. Without waiting, he darted to the side, his spear spinning as he thrust it toward the ribs. Gareth twisted his torso, letting the spear pass harmlessly by. His balance on one leg didn’t waver.

  The boy stepped back, his breathing steady. He grabbed a larger rock, hurled it toward the man's left shoulder, and lunged forward with his spear in one fluid motion. Gareth swatted the rock aside with a flick of his wrist, then shifted slightly as the spear tip passed by his midsection.

  Darting around, the boy pressed forward with swift, precise strikes. His spear first lashed out toward Gareth’s back. In response, Gareth executed a tight, measured pivot on his single footing; his slight torso shift forced the thrust to glide past without finding its mark.

  The boy then adjusted his stance and stabbed toward Gareth’s shoulder. With a minimal forward lean and a careful turn of his upper body, Gareth redirected the spear’s path so that it skimmed harmlessly by.

  Growing frustrated, the boy jabbed at Gareth’s thigh. With a subtle shift of weight onto the ball of his foot, Gareth barely altered his stance enough to have the blow miss by a hair’s breadth.

  Finally, as the boy feinted a strike toward the chest before aiming for the foot, Gareth made a brief, controlled twist. The spear’s tip brushed his side as he maintained his balance throughout the encounter.

  The boy’s frustration grew as he pressed forward, his movements becoming more aggressive. He lunged again, this time aiming a low thrust toward Gareth’s ankle. Gareth hopped lightly, avoiding the strike, and landed back in the center of the circle. The boy didn’t let up, spinning the spear in his hands before sweeping it low again, forcing Gareth to adjust his stance slightly.

  The boy jabbed forward again, his strikes quick but losing their precision as his concentration began to falter. His breathing was uneven now, frustration creeping into his movements. He pressed forward with another thrust, but the man’s hand shot out, catching the spear mid-thrust and holding it firmly. The boy struggled to pull it free, his grip tightening in vain.

  “Enough—”

  Though before Gareth could finish, the boy moved. His hand darted to his pants, pulling out a jagged bone knife hidden against his thigh. Without hesitation, he slashed upward, the blade aimed at the man’s chest.

  Gareth’s eyes widened, his smile breaking for the briefest moment. The air seemed to shift as he drove his shoulder forward, slamming it into the boy’s chest with enough force to halt the attack mid-motion. The impact sent a dull thud through the air as the boy staggered back, the knife in his broken grip falling to the ground.

  The boy staggered back, his chest burning from the impact. His legs wobbled, and for a moment, he thought he might fall.

  *That was... too much.* The thought came unbidden, but he didn’t fight it. His ribs ached, his breath came in shallow gasps, and the weight of the knife in his hand felt heavier than ever.

  “Are you alright?” Gareth’s voice cut through the haze, sharp with panic. “I didn’t mean—did I hurt you?”

  The boy blinked, his vision clearing as he looked at the knife. *What am I even doing?* The question lingered, heavy and bitter. This forest and the Tower's gifts had given him the delusion that he had changed, that he wasn’t the same kid who picked up scraps to eat.

  “Lad? You’re okay, right? Come on, say something.” The man’s voice cracked, the concern in it unmistakable.

  The boy let out a shaky breath, his lips curling into a faint, bitter smile. "I really thought I had gone ahead." He shook his head, the weight of his own delusion slipping off his shoulders. "But I’m still the same, aren’t I?"

  The boy bent down and picked up the fallen dagger. He straightened back slowly, his chest still aching, but his gaze steady as he met the man’s eyes.

  “I’m fine,” he said quietly, his voice steady but tinged with something softer—acceptance.

  "Whew!" The man let out a long sigh of relief. "You fight well, lad! That last move—" He paused, noticing the boy starting to walk away. "Wait, where are you going?"

  The man’s joyful words and his praise stung the boy a little. He wanted to yell back at the noble, to ask what he meant by saying he fought well when he felt no different from a baby flailing about. But he held his tongue, swallowing the annoyance that bubbled up inside him.

  Instead, he replied calmly, "Going away. I failed, didn’t I?"

  "What do you mean by fail, lad? You did fantastic! Your persistence, decision-making, and strength are all worthy of praise!" The man, who had stood so firmly inside the circle moments ago, now panicked, running out of it to catch up with him.

  "Oh really, sure didn’t felt like it" the boy, now with a small smile on his face, start to quicken his step heading for the waterfall area

  "I swear by my family's honor, you fought well, lad! Almost as good as me when I was ten" the man called after him, his voice earnest and unwavering. There was no mockery in his tone, only genuine admiration. "Please, help me, lad. My people need me. They are strong, but our enemies are too much for them to handle. I beg you." His words carried a weight of desperation, his usual composure cracking slightly as he spoke.

  The boy didn’t stop, his steps quickening as he replied over his shoulder, "Already heading there, keep up."