Vitality

Rashan was staring at the ceiling, casting Longstrider with his left hand. It was a spell he'd finally learned a few months before he hit thirteen summers.

At first, he'd only been able to cast it with his right hand—his dominant one. But once he finally figured out how to cast it with his left, he pretty much stuck with that ever since. It was like the training wheels had fallen off. Casting from his left just felt right.

His first real success had been Oakflesh.

He remembered the exact moment it worked. The spell didn't explode or flash—it settled. A strange pressure under the skin. His limbs tensed slightly, and he could feel the difference. His body didn't just feel tougher—it was. He tapped his forearm and the sound came back dull, as if wrapped in something dense.

He'd blinked, stunned, and asked Adrien, "Did it work?"

Adrien gave him a squint, stepped forward, and slapped him hard across the shoulder.

Rashan barely felt it.

"That's Oakflesh," Adrien said. "Congratulations. You're now slightly less likely to die. Let's see if you can keep it up while something's trying to kill you."

Then he tossed Rashan a wooden training sword and stepped into stance.

He had learned Waterwalking after that, and was currently working on Waterbreathing.

What he really wanted next was Conjuration—bound weapons, maybe even summons one day. But Redguards had a cultural hatred for conjuring—especially necromancy.

When he brought it up to Adrien, the old battlemage gave him a long look and said, half-joking, "Boy, Redguards don't do two things: raise the dead, and raise eyebrows at family dinner. Conjuration does both."

Then he told Rashan to pick another school.

So he chose Restoration.

He hadn't started it yet, but he knew it wouldn't be like the game. You couldn't just cast a spell and watch a health bar refill. Restoration was real magic—precision work, not brute force. And it came with a price. Adrien had already warned him: learn the body before you try to fix it. Otherwise, you might close a wound with infection still inside—or spend all your magicka trying to fix what you didn't understand.

Unlike the game, you couldn't just tap a shrine and expect to be healed. Shrines required offerings, devotion, and sometimes days of prayer. Divine blessings weren't vending machines.

And if you weren't rich, important, or standing in the middle of a temple, odds were there wasn't a healer in sight. Priests, priestesses, and Restoration mages were either overwhelmed, underpaid, or too far away to matter.

Most people didn't get saved by magic.

They got stitched up in the dark with a dirty needle and a strong drink.

So when Adrien handed Rashan a stack of Restoration theory books, he figured he was about to learn how to close wounds, stop bleeding, purge disease.

Instead, half the spells were tied to something else entirely—vitality.

He stared at the page, brow furrowed. "Vitality?"

He kept seeing references about vitality, but didn't know what texts were exactly referring to so he asked Adrien.

Adrien sighed.

"Mmm," he mumbled, flipping a page. "Redguards don't tell their kids anything…"

Rashan looked up sharply, but Adrien wasn't looking at him. The old battlemage just stood, dusted his coat, and muttered, "Come on."

They crossed the courtyard in silence.

"We've only ever used training weapons," Adrien said over his shoulder. "That's about to change. Give me your hand. Let me verify you're ready."

He muttered something under his breath as he charged a spell into his palm. "I assume you are, with your ridiculous training…"

Rashan hesitated, then stepped forward. Adrien gripped his wrist with his one good hand and cast the spell.

There was a pulse—brief, warm, heavy. Like pressure blooming beneath the skin.

Adrien didn't let go.

His grip tightened slightly.

His eyes dropped to Rashan's arm, then slowly lifted to his face. He blinked once. His brow pulled together. The corners of his mouth twitched, then settled flat. His shoulders stopped moving.

He held still.

For a moment, he just stared.

No quip. No smirk. His jaw set tighter than before. His nostrils flared once, then drew in a slow breath through the nose.

Then, finally, he released Rashan's wrist.

"…Interesting," he said.

That was all.

Rashan started to ask what he meant—but Adrien had already turned and walked away, his posture stiff, his pace quicker than before.

He met him at the training grounds a few minutes later, barefoot in the sand. Adrien handed him something unexpected—a real sword. Well-maintained. Weighted. Sharp.

"Well, kid," Adrien said, tightening the strap across his shoulder with one arm, "it was nice knowing you."

Even with only one arm, Adrien was terrifying. The sword moved like it was part of him—clean, precise, silent.

Then he lunged.

"What the fu—!"

Rashan ducked just in time. The blade hissed over his shoulder.

Adrien's leg swept under him. Rashan hit the ground hard, flat on his back, air blasted from his lungs.

He barely had time to blink before the sword was already coming down.

No hesitation.

He's not stopping.

The blade struck his chest with a clean, sharp snap. Not deep—but enough to draw blood. A hot line bloomed across his ribs.

He gasped and rolled.

Health: 50%.

His HUD flashed briefly. He stared at it, stunned.

Adrien stood over him, sword resting on his shoulder. He wasn't grinning this time.

Just watching.

Expression unreadable.

Posture locked.

For a moment, Rashan thought he was going to say something more. Ask a question. Explain what just happened.

But Adrien just gave the faintest shake of his head.

Then the grin returned.

"That," he said, "is vitality."

His health bar was now at half.

He blinked—once, hard—and when his eyes opened again, something had shifted.

Vitality was health.

This made him think back to how his father had taught him to use Will—how stamina had turned out to be something real tied to the world.

And now this.

He was still thinking about this world like Earth. The advanced attacks and movements with Will made sense.

But taking an axe blow and still fighting was actually a thing in this world.

His health bar was tracking his body naturally.

Like stamina was tracking Will.

He had never actually tried to tap into his health bar… could he?

He needed to stop making assumptions.

Half the reason spellcasting came easy was he could tap into his magicka by focusing on his magicka bar on his status.

He really needed to stop assuming things.

His HUD wasn't decoration.

Rashan grumbled as he pushed himself off the ground, brushing sand from his arms. His ribs still stung.

Adrien was grinning again.

"You Redguards," he said, shaking his head. "Always keeping things a mystery. Think it makes the kids focus on the work instead of the power."

He snorted. "Maybe not tell long your kids about will and vitality isn't such a bad thing, You redguards are pretty good warriors by the time you hit seventeen."

Rashan muttered under his breath, still sore. "Didn't stop you from keeping it a secret."

Adrien shrugged. "Was kinda surprised you even knew about Will when I met you."

He turned, pacing a few steps across the sand, then looked back.

"But Vitality? That's how a person takes a blow and keeps going. If you had none?" He flashed a grin. "I'd have split you in half."

Rashan stared at him. "Comforting."

"Anyway," Adrien said, rolling his shoulder, "let's get back to it."

Rashan sighed. His teacher was insane.