Chapter 42: Duels

Chapter 42: Chapter 42: Duels

"We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit."

— Aristotle

The winter frost gradually yielded to the biting winds of early spring. Over the course of two relentless months, Riven’s world narrowed down to three things: the bruises on his skin, the weight of his growing coin pouch, and the punishing courtyard of the Adventurers’ Guild.

His days had become predictable.

He woke early, ate a cheap breakfast at the inn, and made his way to the Guild. There, he completed his chores for Aiden before beginning his training. Some days were spent practicing footwork and sword techniques, while others were devoted entirely to sparring.

When training ended, he took whatever suitable jobs he could find on the E tier board. He returned to the inn exhausted, ate, and went to sleep, only to repeat the same routine the following morning.

It was a difficult life, but it was one he had chosen.

And unlike his time in the slave camp, every bruise and every coin he earned brought him closer to his own goals.

Two months had past sense he had became E rank..

During the first fortnight, Riven learned quickly that surviving a nest of blind, predictable rats meant very little against seasoned human fighters.

Aiden no longer kept him confined to private training. Instead, he began bringing Riven into the bustling common training yard, where the lower ranked Guild members gathered to practice.

At first, Riven didn’t understand why.

Then Aiden introduced him to Jora.

The man was a stocky, broad shouldered E tier adventurer who fought with a heavy wooden club. His thick arms and wide stance made him look more like a blacksmith than a fighter.

Jora glanced down at Riven when Aiden introduced them.

"This the kid you’ve been training?"

"Unfortunately," Aiden replied.

Jora laughed.

Riven wasn’t amused.

Their first sparring match lasted less than a minute.

Jora’s opening swing came from the side. Riven tried to step away, but the club was faster than he expected. It struck his guard and sent him stumbling backward.

Before he could recover, Jora closed the distance and swept his legs out from under him.

Riven hit the gravel hard.

"Dead," Aiden called from the sidelines.

Riven immediately got back up.

The second match went little better.

Jora’s sweeping strikes bypassed Riven’s guard with ease. His reach and strength made it difficult for Riven to get close, and every time the boy tried to attack, Jora forced him back with another powerful swing.

By the end of their third match, Riven was lying on his back, staring at the cloudy sky and struggling to catch his breath.

"You’re too predictable," Jora said, resting his club against his shoulder. "You keep trying to get around my weapon, but you’re forgetting that I can move, too."

Riven didn’t respond.

He was too busy trying to breathe.

Aiden stood nearby, watching him.

"Get up."

Riven forced himself to his feet.

"Again?"

"No. You’re done for today."

Riven frowned but lowered his weapon.

Aiden approached him.

"You’ve gotten used to fighting monsters that charge straight at you. People are different. They’ll watch you, change their attacks, and take advantage of every mistake you make."

"I know."

"Then stop making the same mistakes."

Riven clenched his jaw.

He hated losing, but he understood that Aiden was right. His victories against the goblins and iron fang rats had given him confidence, but they hadn’t prepared him for fighting someone who knew what they were doing.

He needed to improve.

And Jora was going to make sure he did.

Outside the training yard, Riven began taking his first side quests from the E tier board.

Most were simple jobs that paid very little. He cleared out aggressive wild dogs near the outer perimeter roads, hauled heavy crates for merchants, and gathered common medicinal herbs in moderately dangerous thickets.

Some jobs were more tiring than others.

The merchant work left his arms aching, while gathering herbs meant spending hours crawling through bushes and searching beneath rocks. The wild dogs were more dangerous, but Riven had enough experience to deal with them carefully.

The money wasn’t impressive, but he didn’t waste it.

He continued staying at the same cheap inn, bought inexpensive meals, and avoided unnecessary purchases. Every copper went into his savings.

Coin by coin, his pouch grew heavier.

Learning to Adapt

By the second month, the biting chill of winter had begun to soften. The midday air carried the first faint warmth of the changing season, and the snow around the settlement gradually disappeared.

Riven’s training changed along with it.

Aiden began introducing him to different opponents, each with their own fighting style. He wanted Riven to learn how to adapt rather than rely on a single approach.

His next opponent was Kael, a nimble, wiry spearman who relied on fast, probing thrusts.

Unlike Jora, Kael didn’t possess overwhelming strength. Instead, he used his speed and reach to keep opponents at a distance.

Their first three matches were humiliating.

Kael’s spear seemed to be everywhere. Whenever Riven tried to approach, the weapon darted toward his chest or legs, forcing him to retreat. His guard was repeatedly punctured, and he ended each match with fresh bruises across his ribs.

During their third bout, Riven managed to get close enough to swing his wooden sword.

Kael simply stepped aside and struck him across the back.

Riven fell to one knee.

"You’re still watching the weapon," Aiden called.

Riven gritted his teeth.

He knew that.

He just couldn’t seem to stop himself.

Before their fourth match, Riven spent several minutes watching Kael warm up. He paid attention to the way the spearman shifted his weight and how his shoulders moved before each thrust.

When the match began, Riven forced himself to ignore the spearhead.

Instead, he watched Kael’s body.

The first thrust came quickly.

Riven stepped off line, narrowly avoiding it.

The second followed almost immediately, but this time Riven was ready. He shifted his weight and moved closer, forcing Kael to retreat.

The spearman tried to regain his distance with another thrust.

Riven slipped inside the weapon’s reach.

For a brief moment, Kael was too close to use his spear effectively.

Riven swung his wooden sword and landed a blunt strike against his ribs.

Kael grunted in surprise.

But before Riven could follow up, the spearman hooked his leg and swept him off his feet.

Riven hit the ground.

"Dead," Aiden called.

Riven lay there for a moment, breathing heavily.

He had lost again.

But this time, he had landed a hit.

It was a small victory, but it was the first time he had managed to get past Kael’s defense.

When he stood up, Aiden gave him a brief nod.

"Better."

Riven brushed the dirt from his clothes.

He was beginning to understand what Aiden had been trying to teach him. Winning wasn’t always about being stronger or faster. Sometimes, it was about recognizing an opponent’s habits and finding a way to take advantage of them.

He still had plenty to learn, but at least he was making progress.

Outside the training yard, his work continued.

He completed three consecutive escort and courier runs, traveling along the muddy trails just beyond the settlement walls. The thawing ground made the journeys difficult, and several times he had to help push wagons out of deep mud.

The pay was better than most of his earlier jobs.

He also began taking on more dangerous assignments when he had the opportunity. Hunting scattered goblins on the outer fringe of the settlement was risky, but the bounties and recovered monster parts made the effort worthwhile.

He never took more than he could handle.

Aiden had made it clear that he wouldn’t tolerate Riven returning from a job with unnecessary injuries. The boy had learned to take that warning seriously.

His spatial storage bag steadily accumulated a heavy clink of hard earned currency.

For the first time in his life, Riven had money that belonged entirely to him.

early into spring, the sun finally began burning away the morning frost. The training courtyard dried beneath clearer skies, and the Guild members gradually returned to spending more time outdoors.

Riven’s next challenge was to beat Jora.

The brawler still had a massive advantage in raw strength and reach. His heavy club could easily knock Riven off his feet, and a single clean strike would be enough to end most matches.

But Riven had changed.

He no longer tried to match Jora’s strength. Instead, he focused on his footwork and the lessons Aiden had drilled into him.

When the match began, Jora immediately came forward.

His first swing was wide and heavy, aimed at forcing Riven backward.

Riven didn’t try to block it.

He lowered his center of gravity and ducked beneath the attack, moving inside the brawler’s reach.

Jora attempted to recover, but Riven was already moving.

He shifted his weight, stepped around the man’s side, and brought his wooden practice sword forward.

At the same time, he pushed a controlled stream of mana through his core and into the blade.

A thin layer of dark mana spread across the wooden weapon.

Shadow Veil.

The technique was far from perfect, but Riven had practiced it for months. He could now maintain it through several strikes without losing control.

He used it to reinforce the impact of his swing.

His wooden sword struck Jora directly in the sternum.

The brawler stumbled backward, coughing in surprise.

Riven held his ground.

For a moment, the courtyard fell quiet.

Then Aiden spoke.

"Match over."

Riven lowered his sword, staring at Jora.

He had won.

It was the first time he had defeated the brawler, and the result felt almost unreal.

To the spectators watching it looked like David just beat Goliath.

Jora rubbed his chest and looked down at the boy.

"Well, I’ll be damned."

Riven didn’t smile, but the satisfaction was difficult to hide.

Aiden approached them.

"Don’t get too excited. You caught him off guard."

Riven looked at him.

"Still won," Jora added with a laugh.

Aiden grunted.

"Once."

That was enough for Riven.

He knew the victory didn’t mean he was suddenly stronger than Jora. The brawler still had more experience and a significant advantage in strength. But Riven had managed to overcome that advantage by using what he had learned.

It was proof he was improving.

Over the following weeks, he repeated the process against two other Guild members.

One favored quick, close range attacks, while the other relied on a heavier weapon and tried to overwhelm his opponents with strength.

Riven lost several matches, but he also began winning more often.

He learned to recognize different fighting styles, adjust his footwork, and avoid relying on the same attacks every time.

His use of Shadow Veil improved as well. He could now maintain the technique while moving, although doing so for too long still drained his mana and left him exhausted.

With each victory, his body felt denser, faster, and more responsive.

His muscles had grown stronger from the constant training, and his movements had become more controlled. He was still small, but he was no longer the frail child who had first arrived in the settlement.

The final weeks of the two month training period were particularly demanding.

Aiden shortened some of their training sessions but made the remaining exercises more difficult. He expected Riven to maintain his form even when exhausted, and he was quick to correct him whenever his movements began to deteriorate.

Riven no longer needed to be pushed to continue.

He pushed himself.

Every morning, he completed his chores before training. He practiced his footwork until his legs trembled and repeated his sword techniques until his arms ached.

He also spent more time practicing Shadow Veil.

The technique had become an important part of his fighting style, and he wanted to learn how to use it without wasting mana.

He began experimenting with different levels of mana output, trying to find the right balance between strength and control.

Sometimes, he pushed too hard and lost control of the technique. Other times, he managed to maintain it for several movements before his mana began to run low. He noticed the more mana he put in the stronger it became although it was harder to control.

He kept practicing.

By the end of the two months, he had become noticeably more efficient at controlling his mana. His swordsmanship had improved as well, although he still had plenty of weaknesses that Aiden was determined to correct.

His adventuring work had also become more profitable.

The higher risk contracts he took on required more preparation, but they offered better rewards. He hunted lone goblins, collected monster parts, and completed assignments that most of the more experienced adventurers considered too troublesome for their time.

He didn’t take unnecessary risks, but he was willing to work harder than most people.

His savings continued to grow.

For someone who had once been forced to work for nothing, the amount of money he had accumulated was almost unbelievable.

He didn’t intend to spend it carelessly.

He wanted better equipment, more training materials, and eventually enough money to travel wherever he needed to go.

For now, though, he was satisfied with making steady progress.

One night after a grueling practice session, Riven returned to his room at the inn.

His body ached from the day’s training, and his clothes still carried the faint smell of sweat and dust. He washed his face, changed into a clean shirt, and sat on the edge of his bed.

He had been feeling something unusual for the past several days.

A faint, dark hum deep within his core.

At first, he had assumed it was simply fatigue. But the sensation had gradually become more noticeable, especially after long training sessions.

Curious, he closed his eyes and focused on his mana.

He could feel the energy circulating through his body, returning to the core in his chest. Something about it seemed different.

His core felt fuller.

Not simply because it had recovered its mana, but because its capacity seemed to be changing.

Riven opened his eyes and brought up his status.

[STATUS]

Name: Riven

Age: 5

Core: Level 1 (Blooming)

Affinity: Shadow

[SKILLS & TECHNIQUES]

Shadow Veil: 63%

Basic Swordplay: 78%

Riven stared at the word beneath his core level.

Blooming.

He had never seen it before.

He wondered if it was a sign that he was close to reaching the next level. If so, he needed to understand exactly what it meant.

The following morning, he made his way to the Adventurers’ Guild.

After finishing his usual chores, he approached the reception desk. The blonde haired elf was working through a stack of contracts, sorting them into neat piles.

She glanced up when he approached.

"Back again, Riven? Here to collect another bounty?"

"No. I have a question."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Go ahead."

Riven brought up his status and pointed to the word displayed beside his core level.

"What does a core blooming mean?"

The receptionist leaned forward to examine the status window.

"Oh. That."

She smiled slightly.

"It means your core is beginning to develop toward the next level."

Riven looked at her.

"Develop?"

"Yes. A core doesn’t usually jump from one level to another without warning. As you grow stronger and your mana capacity increases, your core gradually changes. We call that process blooming."

Riven considered her explanation.

"So I’m close to Level 2?"

"You’re making considerable progress toward it, yes. But blooming doesn’t mean you’ve there yet"

She tapped the counter thoughtfully.

"Your core is showing signs that it’s developing. How quickly it progresses depends on several things, including your natural potential, training, and how well you control your mana."

Riven glanced at his status again.

He had spent the past two months training almost every day. He had practiced his swordsmanship, learned to control Shadow Veil, and pushed himself through countless exhausting assignments.

It seemed that all of that work was finally paying off.

"How long does it usually take?"

"There’s no set amount of time. Some people progress quickly, while others remain at the same level for years. Even when a core begins blooming, it can take quite a while before it advances."

Riven nodded.

He wasn’t disappointed. He had never expected to become powerful overnight.

Still, knowing that his core was developing gave him a sense of satisfaction.

He had started with almost nothing. Now, after months of hard work, he was finally seeing a noticeable change.

"Is there anything I should do?"

"Keep training, but don’t overexert yourself. Your core needs time to develop, just like your body. Forcing too much mana through it can be dangerous."

Riven remembered what Aiden had taught him about controlling his mana.

He had already learned that pushing too hard could leave him exhausted or give him a headache. He had no intention of damaging his core by rushing his progress.

"Thank you."

The receptionist smiled.

"You’re welcome. And congratulations. It’s not every day someone your age shows signs of core development."

Riven didn’t respond to the compliment.

He simply turned away with a smile.

He had more work to do.

That evening, Riven returned to his room and emptied his spatial storage bag onto the bed.

Coins spilled across the blanket, producing a heavy metallic clatter.

He began sorting them into neat stacks, counting each one carefully.

Forty two silver coins and forty five copper coins.

He counted them again to make sure he hadn’t made a mistake.

The amount was still difficult to believe.

Two months ago, he had barely been able to afford food and lodging. Now he had enough money to purchase decent equipment, pay for training materials, and still have a considerable amount left over.

He packed the coins away and leaned back against the wall.

His body was stronger. His swordsmanship had improved. His core was beginning to bloom, and he had earned an official adventurer rank.

None of those achievements meant he was safe.

He was still a five year old child in a dangerous world. There were monsters he couldn’t defeat and adventurers who could kill him without much effort.

But he was no longer helpless.

For the first time since escaping the slave camp, he felt as though he was building something that belonged entirely to him.

He closed his eyes and focused on the faint hum of mana within his core.

It was still Level 1.

But it was growing.

And so was he.