Chapter Three: Beneath the Surface
The fire crackled in quiet rhythm as Lucian stared into the flames, his back against a gnarled tree. The crude training sword lay across his lap—scuffed, worn, and just heavy enough to remind him that progress came with pain.
Two weeks had passed since he arrived in this strange, cruel world. Two weeks since the man named Michael Kaiser found him bloodied and unconscious in the forest and, for reasons still unclear, decided not to walk away.
In that time, Lucian had swung a sword more than he ever had in his entire life. He'd bruised ribs, scraped knees, and failed more than he succeeded. Yet, every night, when the moon took its place in the sky and the insects began their choir, he found himself still standing.
Still learning.
A soft crunch interrupted his thoughts.
Across the fire, Kaiser leaned lazily against a rock, unwrapping a popsicle with one hand while the other tossed a small pebble in the air and caught it again. He didn't look like someone training a pupil. He looked like someone on vacation.
Lucian narrowed his eyes. "You know I hate it when you just sit there eating those while I'm dying out here."
Kaiser raised both eyebrows, looking genuinely offended. "Excuse me, I'm supervising. There's a difference."
"You haven't said a single word to me all morning."
"That's because your footwork was so bad it gave me secondhand embarrassment. I was letting you reflect in silence." He took a loud bite of the popsicle and grinned. "You're welcome."
Lucian groaned. "You're the worst mentor ever."
"I try my best," Kaiser said proudly, as if accepting an award.
Their morning routine followed its absurd tradition—Lucian sweating, stumbling through drills, muttering curses under his breath, and Kaiser lounging around like the world owed him comfort.
He didn't give formal lessons.
No lectures. No breakdowns of swordplay.
Instead, Kaiser made comments like:
"If you keep holding the sword like that, even a squirrel could disarm you."
Or:
"That swing had the spirit of a dead fish. Try again."
It was maddening.
And yet... effective.
Lucian's body grew stronger. His grip firmed. His stances became more natural. And while he hated to admit it, he'd started learning the most from the silence between Kaiser's jokes.
Still, he couldn't help asking the question that had been building.
"Don't you train?" Lucian asked one afternoon, collapsing into the grass. His shirt clung to him with sweat, his arms trembling from effort.
Kaiser lay flat on his back in the shade, arms folded behind his head. "Me? Not really."
Lucian turned his head. "Why?"
Kaiser sat up and pulled another popsicle from... somewhere. The mystery remained.
He unwrapped it, took a leisurely bite, then smiled. "Because I'm a genius."
Lucian gave him a long stare. "You're unbearable."
"Flattery gets you nowhere," Kaiser replied with a wink.
They moved again the next day, deeper into the demon-infested forest. Yet no demons came near them. Whether out of coincidence or fear of Kaiser's presence, Lucian didn't know. The surroundings shifted—from thick woodland to ancient ruins nestled beneath ivy and stone.
When they reached a weathered archway wrapped in vines, Kaiser stopped.
"This is it," he said.
Lucian stepped beside him, brushing aside a leafy branch to get a clearer view. The ruins beyond were vast, partially sunken, with broken towers and crumbling walls. The wind here felt... older.
"What is this place?" Lucian asked.
"A stronghold," Kaiser said. "Old as hell. Long before you, long before me."
He wandered forward, boots kicking up moss and dust, tracing his fingers along the stonework.
"You came all the way here for this?"
"Yep."
Lucian followed, more cautious. "So… not to kill demons?"
"Nope."
Kaiser crouched beside a half-buried statue and poked it with his popsicle stick. "I mean, if some show up, sure, I'll smack 'em around. But I'm not on some holy crusade."
"Then why?"
Kaiser stood and stretched, hands behind his back. "Because I felt like it. And I've always wanted to see this place."
Lucian looked at him like he was insane. "You just… go places? No reason?"
"Exactly." He beamed. "Isn't that refreshing? No prophecies, no secret mission. Just vibes."
That night, they set up camp inside one of the ruins. The stone floor was cracked, but dry. The wind passed through the archways like whispers from another time.
Lucian sat by the fire, nursing sore muscles, while Kaiser sat cross-legged with his cloak off, cooling down.
"You really don't care what people expect from you?" Lucian asked suddenly.
Kaiser glanced at him, halfway through another popsicle. "Nope."
"Not even a little?"
He licked the edge thoughtfully. "Okay—tiny bit. But I don't carry anyone's hopes. Too much pressure. People should save themselves."
Lucian was quiet for a while. "Then why help me?"
Kaiser blinked, caught off guard for once. "I don't know. You looked interesting. That, or I was bored."
He tossed the popsicle stick into the fire and leaned back, smirking.
"You ask too many questions, Vale. Just enjoy the company of a certified genius and savor the free training."
Lucian looked away, hiding a small smile. "Right."
To be continued...