Chapter 48-Luna

“I will tell you how to train your soma, boy, near-death experiences. And don’t think you can put yourself in this and hope you’ll survive. Don’t think you can hold back. True near-death experiences are ones in which you have pushed beyond the brink of exhaustion, where you have used every backup power you have, one where you have nothing more to give, but you still prevail. This is why it is so hard to become Tempered, or even Forged. Most people only go through one near-death experience in their lives. Most knights and warriors only go through two, while most adventurers go through at most three.”

“So how many must I go through to become Tempered?”

“At least two, many go through three, while some go through four before advancing.”

“What about you?”

“Three. I know I may not look it, but I once was a class A adventurer. I gave up that life long ago through, hohohohooo.” He laughed before coughing. “Just get some rest, boy.”

Tasim, thinking back to Myrrik, felt his body embrace itself.

“As long as you do not get on the bad side of any Savants or encounter Myrrik again, you should be fine. Now sleep, son.”

“Alright.” He just nodded and went inside the tent, avoiding the pouring rain, unlike the elderly man who sat on a log in front of the raging fire.

Rain dripped upon the tent, flowing down and puddling at the edge, causing the ground to feel mushy through the tent. The elderly man outside began to hum a sweet melody as he poked the fire with a stick, and Tasim watched from behind the man’s back, where the tent sat.

‘I wonder how she is doing…’ Somber emotions began to bubble inside him as he lay there. Pushing them aside, he closed his eyes, light still flickering through his eyelids.

Howls filled the night along with pops from the fire, as Tasim slowly drifted off to sleep, he dreamed of a sweet memory.

***

Tasim looked up at his dad, his long brown beard ended at his chest, covering old scars that would be visible otherwise. He wore an onyx colored shirt with only the bottom three buttons connected, allowing the hair on his stomach and chest to be visible, blending in with his beard.

He threw a wooden sword at the young boy in front of him, and the young boy’s muscles bulged as he carried the object. He pulled up his own dark colored sleeves, revealing hairless pale skin, similar to that of a doll.

“Attack me, son.”

“Yes, papa.”

The young boy, around seven years of age, picked up the sword, throwing it over his shoulder, which caused his unsteady stance to falter, one of his legs being thrown in the air slightly before he caught his balance.

Tasim rushed at his dad with whatever strength a young boy could offer and swung his sword in a long overhead arch, his glasses on the tip of his nose, not allowing him to see well.

The man just stepped out of the way and brought one of his hands onto the back of his son’s, palming his back and pushing him forward, causing him to stumble and fall face-first into the ground.

To the side, his older sister, Luna, was watching, peering into Tasim’s movements with her jade green eyes, while their dad just overlooked Tasim.

“Get up, buddy.” He spoke softly, offering his large, masculine hand to his son.

“Yes, papa.” He took his dad’s hand and stood.

“Now watch me, and repeat.”

Tasim’s dad stood, one foot behind the other as if he was about to do lunges, but instead, he held his small wooden sword perfectly vertical. He then brought it slowly over his shoulder, the weight which seemed to be immense to the young son beside him, was nothing to him, and he controlled the blade with precision. He then slowly brought the blade down as if striking an object directly in front of him.

“Now at full speed.”

He repeated the same action with immense speed; his hips didn’t rotate, nor did he use the force in his legs; the power that was just produced was purely through his arms, and that speed caused a huge ripple through the air, causing Tasim to stumble towards the sword for a moment as air quickly rushed in to feel the empty space left behind by the strike.

“Wowwww.” Tasim’s eyes gleamed. Despite not being into swordsmanship, he thought his dad was fascinating.

“Now, buddy, do the same thing slowly. Control the blade, control your body, control them as if they were one, as if the sword is an extension of your body.”

“Yes, papa.”

Tasim took on the same stance; his left foot was too straight in front of the right, causing him to begin to tip over from the weight of the blade.

His father caught him, putting one hand on his shoulder.

“Son.”

“I’m sorry, Father.”

Tasim tried again, his legs more spread this time, and he took on the same stance.

He held the sword out, and it began to shake as if an earthquake was happening.

“Control it.”

“I’m tryi- Yes, father.”

He slowly steadied his hands until the blade seemed to be stationary, though his father and sister could still see a slight discrepancy compared to his dad’s.

“Good, good job, son. Now pull it back slowly over your shoulder, readying a strike.”

Tasim began to do just that, slowly leaning it over his shoulder. The weight was too much and it quickly fell back towards him. Using his wrists, he pushed it off to the side so it didn’t hit him, but then he tried again. The sword shook violently as he used all the muscle in his body to copy his father’s movements.

The shaky sword slowly sat right above his right shoulder, and he began to slowly gain control of the blade until it became stationary.

His dad, using his sword, dug a small hole in the ground directly in front of Tasim.

“Now strike that spot.”

The young boy struck the sword at the spot, missing entirely.

“Again.”

“Yes, papa.”

The boy, exhausted, did the action again, missing once again.

“Again.”

Tasim focused, and with all his might, he did it a third time, but missed once more.

“Tasim.” The father squatted, becoming eye level with him.

“Yes, Dad?”

His father gave a bitter smile as he thought of what would happen within the next week, and embraced Tasim.

“I love you. And I’m pushing you because I love you. You know this, right?”

Luna watched from the back door of the house and smiled.

“Yes, Dad, I know. And I love you, too. I love all of you. You all are the best. Especially big sis.”

A single tear fell from his father’s eye, and before the young boy could see, his dad wiped it off and stood back up, this time with a stern expression.

“Do it again.”

“Yes, papa.”

‘I love you, son, and I’m sorry we are choosing her over you.’ He watched his young son, so eagerly trying to please him, and felt turmoil boil inside him.

The young boy, sweating profusely as his arms trembled, struck the spot again, surprisingly hitting it this time.

“Good job, son. I’m proud of you.” He produced a smile, hiding his emotions. “Now do it again, once you do it perfectly, you may go rest.

His mother stepped out as he repeated the action once again, and her forest green eyes, resembling those of her daughters, looked at the pair of boys who trained in front of her.

Tasim’s dad looked to his wife and smiled bleakly. At this sign, his wife knew what he was thinking, and she began to lament internally. Externally, tears flowed down her rosy cheeks, falling off her chin and colliding with her brown hair that was covering her chest.

She turned away without a noise and returned inside, while Luna and Tasim had no idea what had happened.

During this entire brief period, Tasim continued to swing his sword, and she watched from the sidelines, internally critiquing his work.

She began to speak, “Tas-”

Tasim turned his head, but it was because his father spoke at the same time.

“Boy. Swing more ferociously.”

“Yes, papa.”

Tasim focused again, pushing away all superfluous thoughts, keeping only those that were necessary. And he did it, he did it perfectly, and his dad was stunned at the speed at which he learned it.

“Good job, son.”

Tasim dropped the sword and looked up at his dad while a bead of sweat flowed down his forehead and stood on his eyelash.

“Did I do it, Dad?”

“Yes, son. I’m proud of you.”

Tasim fell into his dad’s arms and quickly collapsed from exhaustion.

His father stroked his head and picked him up. “Now I know you’ll be safe when we leave.”

He then planted a soft kiss upon his child’s head and carried him inside, laying him in his bed and retrieving the wooden sword.

“How is he, father?”

“He will be fine, darling, he just exhausted himself.”

Luna soon grabbed a flower pot and bloomed some more roses, laying them beside his bed.

His father and mother soon left his bedside, leaving Luna residing beside him. They went to speak in private, muttering words neither of the children could understand. Luna had premonitions of what would happen soon, of what their parents planned to do with Tasim, but she hoped they were lies; she prayed they would never come to fruition.

***

Tasim smiled as he dreamt, remembering the harsh but memorable times he had spent with his family. He had learned many things from his elder sister, along with his father. Though he didn’t enjoy swordsmanship, he learned it out of respect for his father. While magic stemmed from the love he felt for his sister, she was older than him, but he felt a need to care for her. And now he couldn’t. He didn’t know where she was, so he chose, for now, to grow stronger until he could protect her.

A few hours passed, and he awoke to the elderly man still sitting on the same log, watching the fire. As he sat up, the wary old man turned around.

“Finally awake, son? Let’s get going. Ain’t know rest for the wicked, or however the saying goes.” He croaked and forced out a laugh, which was interrupted by coughing.

Tasim stepped out of the tent, and a radiant, orange light peered through the trees, hitting his side and casting a faint shadow on the ground. He stretched his back as the old man stood up and leaned on a tree for support.

“Guess this old man is more defective than he once thought. Hohoho.” He wheezed.

Tasim looked at the old man, thinking of the conversation they had held last night, and he helped the old man by packing up the tent and putting it inside a small bag, putting it in the back of the carriage.

He finished cleaning up, and a loud bleat was heard from deeper in the forest, along with a deep-voiced call for help. A humanoid creature was running rapidly towards the pair of men. It was a faun, a human with goat legs and horns that grew from his head, curling to almost touch their own roots.

“Can one of you two help? Please!” He yelled. “Something is chasing me.”

The man looked emanated an overwhelming force, shaking Tasim, causing him to become terrified of what might be chasing the man.

The man, seeing Tasim ready to fight, turned around, his beautiful, curled, brown hair swaying in the wind as he turned as well, getting behind Tasim. The man had many flowers just decorating his hair, as if he were a child, and one fell out as he came to a sudden stop.

Tasim looked at the man; his muscles were well defined, and he had half a shirt, made of sticks, leaves, and vines, going from his right shoulder down to his left hip, leaving his left pec completely exposed.