Chapter 3 - The Everyday Life

The first light of dawn filtered through the thick canopy as Aric stepped out of the hut, the cool morning air brushing against his skin.

The forest was still, save for the distant calls of birds and the rustle of leaves as a gentle breeze swept through the trees.

Vire fluttered beside him, their translucent form glowing softly in the dim light.

Aric made his way to the small farm beside the hut, where rows of crops stretched out in neat lines.

The soil was rich and dark, a testament to years of careful tending. He had planted everything himself—fruits, vegetables, and herbs, all chosen for their hardiness and usefulness. This small plot of land was his lifeline, providing the sustenance he needed to survive in the depths of the forest.

Vire hovered above the crops, their wings shimmering in the early light. "Shall we give them a little help today?" the tiny creature asked, their voice playful.

Aric smiled, nodding as he knelt to inspect the plants. "They could use a boost. The tomatoes haven't been getting as much sun as they need."

Vire darted from plant to plant, their tiny hands outstretched as they sprinkled a faint, sparkling dust over the leaves. The magic took hold immediately—wherever the dust landed, the plants seemed to perk up, their colours deepening, their stems growing stronger. The tomatoes swelled, their green skin slowly blushing into a rich, ripe red.

Aric watched in quiet appreciation, his fingers brushing the leaves as he moved through the rows. This was a ritual they had performed many times before, but it never ceased to amaze him how quickly Vire's magic could transform the garden. 

After ensuring the crops were thriving, Aric stood and stretched, feeling the morning sun warm his back. "Thank you, Vire. That should keep us well-fed for a while."

Vire floated down to rest on his shoulder, their glow dimming as they settled in. "It's the least I can do. You do most of the work, after all."

Aric chuckled, but his mind was already shifting to the next task. He walked to a small clearing just beyond the farm, where a sturdy wooden dummy stood in the centre of a ring of dirt.

The clearing was his training ground, a place where he honed the skills that had kept him alive in the forest for so many years.

He drew his sword from its sheath, the blade glinting in the light. The weapon was simple but finely crafted, a testament to his careful maintenance.

He held it in both hands, feeling the familiar weight as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Vire flew a short distance away, watching with interest. "Are you going to practice your technique again?"

Aric nodded, his eyes still closed. "Yes. I need to keep refining it. There's always room for improvement."

He began to breathe deeply, slowly at first, then faster, drawing in as much air as his lungs could hold.

His heart responded in kind, beating faster and faster, until it felt like it was trying to burst from his chest. The blood rushed through his veins, his body heating up, every muscle in his body tensing as his senses sharpened.

The world around him seemed to slow. The rustling of the leaves, the distant calls of the birds, even the gentle movement of Vire's wings—all of it faded into a slow, deliberate rhythm. Aric's mind focused solely on the target in front of him, the wooden dummy that had withstood countless strikes.

He moved.

In the slowed time of his heightened state, Aric's body became a blur of motion. His muscles, fueled by the surge of blood and energy, worked at their full capacity.

The sword sliced through the air with incredible speed, each strike precise and powerful. He circled the dummy, his blade cutting through the wood with ease, leaving deep gashes on its surface.

To an outside observer, his movements would have appeared almost too fast to follow, a flurry of strikes that seemed to blend into one another. But to Aric, it all unfolded in perfect clarity.

Every detail of the dummy, every shift in the air, every pulse of his heartbeat—he was aware of it all, and he used that awareness to push his body to its limits.

Minutes passed, though, to Aric, it felt like much longer. Finally, he stopped, his breath coming in heavy gasps, his heart pounding in his ears.

The dummy was in pieces, the wood splintered and scattered across the ground. Aric stood in the centre of the clearing, his body trembling from the exertion, sweat dripping down his face.

As his breathing slowed and his heart returned to a normal rhythm, the world around him seemed to speed up again. Time resumed its usual pace, and Aric felt the familiar weight of fatigue settle over him. He sheathed his sword, wiping the sweat from his brow.

Vire fluttered over to him, their eyes wide with admiration. "You're getting faster," they remarked, landing lightly on his shoulder. "And more precise. That was impressive."

Aric gave a tired smile, nodding in acknowledgment. "It's getting easier to control. But it still takes a lot out of me."

Vire nodded, their tiny hand resting on his neck in a comforting gesture. "You're pushing yourself harder than anyone else could. But remember to rest, too. You're no good to this forest if you're exhausted."

Aric chuckled, the sound tinged with weariness. "I know, I know. I'll take it easy for the rest of the day."

He turned to look at the destroyed dummy, a faint sense of satisfaction filling him. The training was brutal, but it was necessary. The forest held dangers that required him to be at his best, and he couldn't afford to let his skills dull.