Chapter:31-Archery Practice
The next day.
Edwin was asleep in his room at the inn. He felt exhausted.
Groggily, he sat up in bed, washed his face, and stepped out for a walk. He picked up some food from the market, munching quietly, until he noticed people talking in hushed voices all around him.
"I heard the Count burned another village!"
"Is the Count really a vampire?"
"Have you heard? The Count is coming to Lekri today!"
That last line caught his attention.
He'd come to learn that Lekri was the capital of Anhari County, but the Count didn't live here. That only fueled the rumors—some said he lived underground, others that he lived in a castle in a dark forest, or even a cave among other vampires.
Edwin looked down, his face shadowed.
He remembered watching his village burn over and over. It had taken him over 20 deaths to finally escape.
He smiled softly.
'I'll go back to mourn someday...'
He headed to the blacksmith's shop.
Inside, Emily—the sheepish young woman with auburn hair—was seated, reading a book through a pair of slightly crooked glasses.
"Hey, where's Drovan?" Edwin asked.
Startled, Emily jolted upright and stammered something before calling to the back.
From the workshop emerged Drovan, the gruff old man with muscles like steel beams.
'He really does look like a dwarf...' Edwin thought.
Drovan had been taught by dwarves and inherited some of their traits: an unnatural love for extremely spicy food, an obsession with crafting, and a fondness for alcohol. Even his squat frame resembled theirs, though he stood at average human height.
"What do you want now, brat?" Drovan grumbled.
Edwin slowly pulled his black sword from its sheath and placed it on the counter.
"What? Did you break it?" the blacksmith barked. "It may not be my best work, but you shouldn't have—"
"It's not broken." Edwin cut him off and placed something else on the counter.
Emily shrieked.
A black and red, deformed, spear-like horn thudded onto the wood. It pulsed faintly with a sinister sheen, like something that had no business existing.
Drovan picked it up and examined it carefully for a long while.
"So...what do you want?"
"I want you to infuse the horn into the sword."
"What?! Do you have any idea how mu—" Drovan stopped mid-sentence as Edwin dropped a pouch of 100 gold coins.
The last of the black wolf money. He still had enough saved up for a while, but this was an investment.
Drovan stared at the bag, then at Edwin, then back at the sword and horn.
"...Give me a week," he said, snatching them up. "In the meantime, pick a sword off the rack. You'll need something till this is done."
As Drovan disappeared into the forge, Edwin turned to Emily. "Can you help me pick something decent?"
She nodded, offering a timid smile.
From the forge, Drovan's voice echoed out again.
"Did you ever name that black sword yet?"
"Uh… yeah. Grim."
There was a pause.
"That's a terrible name."
Edwin sighed. Emily gave him a sheepish smile of sympathy.
After a while, Edwin left the shop, waving goodbye to her. Then he made his way to Eliza's inn.
He knocked on her door. Before she opened it, he pulled a bow and a quiver of arrows out from his storage.
The door swung open. Eliza's eyes caught the bow—and in a flash, she kicked Edwin square in the groin.
"GAGHHH!!" Edwin wheezed, doubling over in pain.
"Aah! I'm sorry!" Eliza panicked.
"N-No… problem…" he groaned.
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
"I… want to learn archery."
"Then why the hell did you pull the bow out before saying that?!"
…
Later that day, they stood in the fields beyond the city. Eliza had set up targets on distant trees and jogged back to Edwin.
"Shoot three arrows into each of those targets before the day ends. If you can't hit a target three times within three tries, we start again."
"That's not training, that's punishment. I need guidance."
"Just do it," she said, dead serious.
Edwin sighed and did as he was told.
He shot an arrow—clean miss.
The second was closer.
The third skimmed past the bark.
"Start again!"
Another round.
Another failure.
"Start again!"
"Start again!"
"Start again!"
Those two words echoed throughout the day like a curse. Over and over. His arms ached. His fingers were raw.
By nightfall, he finally managed to land two arrows into one target. He didn't celebrate.
Eliza approached, arms crossed.
"Same time tomorrow," she said, then walked away.
Nice continuation! The tone and chemistry between Edwin and Eliza are developing well. Here's a polished version of this scene with tightened grammar, improved flow, and subtle enhancement of emotion, while keeping your intent and style intact:
The next day.
Edwin showed up at the fields just as Eliza had instructed. She was already there, standing with her arms crossed, targets lined up again—this time a little closer than the day before.
He picked up the bow and arrows she had set down for him.
"Tilt your hand slightly…" Eliza said.
Is she actually giving me advice? he thought, surprised.
He did as told.
"Don't shoot with strength. That won't work with that kind of bow," she continued, walking around him as she spoke. "Strength is for distance. With a bow like that, speed and precision are power. You're not swinging a sword."
"Okay…" he muttered.
Thwip.
The arrow flew and struck the target—not dead center, but it embedded well enough to feel like a victory.
"Hey! Nice," he said, a small grin forming on his face.
The day wore on. The results weren't dramatic, but they were slightly better than yesterday. His aim was steadier, his shots more consistent.
"At least I'm showing some progress, right?" he asked hopefully, turning to Eliza.
She was sitting quietly on a boulder, staring off into the distance, her expression unreadable.
"Eliza?" he called.
She glanced at him, then spoke calmly. "Edwin… you have no real talent."
"Ouch," he said with mock offense, though her tone told him she wasn't joking.
"I mean it," she said, eyes narrowing a bit. "You're not bad. But you're not naturally good either. And that matters. Talent matters. Most skills in this world need some spark of it to truly grow. And in this world… without talent, you can die. Easily. Quickly."
Edwin stared at the ground for a moment. Then he looked up at the sky, the light from the setting sun painting his face in faint gold.
Eliza's Roskan accent made her words a bit harsher.
"Well…" he said, cracking a smile, "that just means I'll have to try harder, right?"
Eliza sighed.
Then she smiled. A quiet, tired smile. One that carried something else within it—something sad, maybe even nostalgic.
"Yeah…"
That night-
Edwin was laying on his bed,alone.
The status board hovered above him.
[Strength: 21]
[Speed: 23]
[Durability:23]
[Sense: 19]
[Health: 2500/2500]
[Rune of Enhancement: Complex]
[Title: Bane of Wolves]
[You have twenty points left]
He then looked at the markings on his forearm. He recently discovered that he can hide them at will which was convinient.
"Elora..." he called.
[Yes?]
Came the sterile voice of the system.
"I can only have 5 runes,right?"
[Yes,five runes is the limit on a mortal body]
"Hm....." Edwin seemed to be in thought.
"Are you some sort of deity?" he asks.
[No,I don't think I am]
"What do you mean you don't think you are?" he asks in confusion.
[If I was a deity I would have known]
"Well,I guess that makes some sense."
His eyes then divert to the points
[Do you wish to use them?]
"Yes,5 to strength,5 to speed,6 to durability,4 to sense."
[Points are being distributed]
[Strength:26]
[Speed: 28]
[Durability:29]
[Sense: 23]
[Health: 2500/2500]
[Rune of Enhancement: Complex]
[Title: Bane of Wolves]
End of Chapter