Chapter 3: The Grind Begins

[3,480 words]

Eragon woke up the next morning feeling refreshed, the warmth of his bed lingering on his skin as sunlight filtered through the small window of his room.

He blinked his eyes open, half-expecting to be back in his old life, surrounded by the mundane familiarity of his previous world. But instead, his young, smooth hands lay in front of him—undeniable proof that this was no dream. His lips curled into a smile. "I really did reincarnate huh" he muttered to himself, the excitement of his new life swelling within him.

Rising from bed, Eragon made quick work of washing his face in the basin of cold water near his bedside. The shock of the water against his skin invigorated him further. He changed into his usual farm clothes, sturdy but worn, and slung his pouch over his shoulder. Grabbing his bow and quiver of arrows, which he had prepared the night before, Eragon headed downstairs to join Roran and Garrow for breakfast.

The kitchen was filled with the familiar scent of fresh bread and the sizzling of eggs over the fire. Roran was already seated at the table, devouring his meal with the kind of hunger only a day of hard labor could bring. Garrow stood by the stove, tending to the last bits of food before joining them.

"Good morning," Eragon greeted, sitting down with a content smile. His excitement bubbled beneath the surface, though he kept it hidden, careful not to arouse suspicion.

"Morning," Roran replied between mouthfuls. He glanced at Eragon with a raised eyebrow. "You're up early. Heading out already?"

Eragon nodded, digging into his meal. "Yeah, I'm heading to the mountains after breakfast. Thought I'd see if I could catch some game if I get to the Spine early."

Garrow sat down across from him, his expression calm but thoughtful. "Just be careful. Don't stay out too long, and definitely don't do anything stupid in order to prove yourself. It's okay even if you don't catch anything, just come back safely."

"Don't worry," Eragon assured him. "I'm old enough to know better, I'll be back in four days at most."

Roran, however, frowned. "We still need to finish plowing the rest of the fields for planting. Are you sure you should be off hunting?"

Eragon grinned. "I worked extra hard yesterday, didn't I? Besides, you know I'm not a fan of working the fields. I like it more in the wild, hunting pray... Doing the same monotonic work over and over again is driving me nuts!"

Roran shook his head, though a smile tugged at his lips. "You've always had your head in the clouds. Let's see what you bring then"

Eragon gave Roran a nod before standing. "Thanks for the meal, I'm out, bye" He quickly cleared his dishes and washed them in the basin. With a wave to Roran and Garrow, he left the wooden house and stepped into the fresh morning air.

He began his journey, walking with purpose toward the distant mountains. His steps were steady and quick, the crisp wind carrying the scent of pine and earth. As he walked, his mind wandered to the plans he had for the future. 'I'm only fifteen now,' he thought, 'so I have about a year before Arya sends Saphira's egg my way.'

The prospect of becoming a Dragon Rider filled him with excitement. He craved immortality—wanted to live a life where time was no longer his enemy. The idea of remaining youthful and powerful, never succumbing to old age, drove him forward. 'I'll definitely become a Dragon Rider. It's my ticket to immortality and to unlock my magic.'

Another thought occurred to him. 'Magic....' He knew the word "brisingr" meant fire. He remembered the famous word from the books, and testing his ability to use magic during his coming hunt intrigued him. 'Maybe I can check today if I can use magic already…' The thought made his heart race.

But there was more to think about. 'I should also train to defend my mind against mind reading.' He didn't want to be vulnerable, especially in a world filled with mental attacks. 'I'll be ready for anything.'

Eragon was so deep in his thoughts that he nearly missed the familiar clearing ahead of him. The place was tucked away beside a small stream that wound through the forest, the sound of flowing water soothing the otherwise silent surroundings. On his way, he came across a bush filled with dark berries, the kind that caused a nasty bout of diarrhea if eaten. Smirking to himself, he picked the whole bush and stuffed it into his pouch.

Eventually, he reached the clearing and set down his things, deciding this would be the perfect spot for his training over the next four days.

"Ok, here goes nothing" He pulled out his knife and held it close to his hand, ready to make a small cut to test if he can receive another important resistance. But then, he hesitated, shaking his head. "This isn't worth it," he muttered to himself. "I'm not cutting myself just for a level one skill… especially when I'd have to do it repeatedly."

Instead, he decided to warm up with some physical training. Jumping in place for a minute to get his blood flowing, he followed it up with a series of stretches. Once limber, he found a large, heavy stone nearby. Wrapping his arms around it, he hugged the stone to his chest and began running laps around the clearing.

Huff~ Huff~

The strain on his muscles was immediate. The stone was unwieldy, and it pressed down on him with every step, but he pushed through it. His breath came in sharp, labored huffs, but every time he wanted to stop, he told himself, 'Just one more lap… Just one more lap.' He ignored the persistent dings in his mind as his fatigue resistance and abrasion resistance skills leveled up.

He continued his training through the morning, taking short water breaks from the stream when needed. His muscles burned, his body covered in a fine sheen of sweat, but he didn't let up until the sun was directly overhead.

Finally, exhausted, he collapsed near the fire he had built earlier. Pulling out some bread and dried meat, Eragon sat next to the crackling flames and ate. As he chewed, he took the opportunity to warm his hands over the fire again, leveling up his heat resistance skill slowly but surely.

After an hour-long rest, Eragon continued his training. He pushed his body to its limits, repeating various exercises, from carrying rocks to sprinting across the clearing. The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the forest floor, but Eragon didn't stop until evening approached.

With the day drawing to a close, Eragon washed himself in the cold stream, relishing the sharp sting of the icy water against his skin. Each dip into the water seemed to raise his cold resistance a little more, and he found himself looking forward to the next plunge.

"Of course, I can't forget about you little ones. You are the key to give me one of the most useful and important skill yet hehe" As night settled in, Eragon pulled out the poisonous berries he had collected earlier. Picking one off the stem, he studied it for a moment before popping it into his mouth. Instantly, he felt his stomach churn, the bitterness of the berry making his face twist in disgust. But then, a familiar ding rang in his head.

[Poison Resistance Level 1] Gained. This skill passively reduces damage from toxins and poisons.

Eragon chuckled to himself, but it was a bitter laugh. "Yuck, this is disgusting! But these berries sure are quite poisonous, letting me land the skill after just eating just one. I'd better not overdo it, or it won't be pretty."

Still, determined to push himself further, he ate four more berries before stopping. His stomach protested violently, and the poison resistance skill continued to climb, but he knew better than to push his luck.

Stepping out of the stream, Eragon shivered as the cold night wind hit his wet skin. His teeth chattered as he hurriedly dried himself by the fire. "No point in getting sick just for a few more levels of cold resistance," he muttered, chastising himself for his earlier recklessness.

Sitting by the small fire, he stared into the flickering flames and felt a surge of determination.

"Alright, let's give magic a shot," he muttered to himself, reaching down and picking up a small dry twig from the ground. Holding it in his hand, he concentrated on it, remembering the one word that could summon fire—Brisingr.

He inhaled deeply, feeling the anticipation build within him. This was it—his first attempt at casting magic. He pictured the fire igniting from the twig in his mind, focusing all his will on making it happen.

"Brisingr," he whispered, his voice steady and calm, but nothing happened. The twig remained cold and lifeless in his hand.

He frowned, a little annoyed. Maybe he hadn't concentrated hard enough. He tried again, his voice firmer this time.

"Brisingr!"

Still, nothing. The twig remained unlit, and the fire he imagined refused to manifest. For a moment, disappointment washed over him. He knew from the books that for humans magic could only be accessed by Dragon Riders or those born with magical talent, but part of him had hoped that his reincarnation might have granted him some early access to those powers.

With a sigh, Eragon tossed the twig aside and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, that didn't work. Not surprised, though," he said quietly to himself, shaking his head. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of frustration. He had wanted so badly to tap into the magic that had fascinated him for so long, but for now, it seemed out of reach.

However, that feeling of disappointment quickly faded as he reminded himself of the bigger picture. "It's alright," he told himself with a smile. "I'll unlock magic when I become a Rider. No need to rush it."

He leaned back against the tree behind him, gazing up at the stars now appearing in the darkening sky. The prospect of becoming a Dragon Rider was still thrilling. That was when his true potential would awaken. The idea of wielding magic, flying on a dragon, and becoming part of something far greater than himself filled him with a renewed sense of purpose.

"Besides," he added with a chuckle, "I've got plenty to keep me busy until then."

Eragon knew that his journey had only just begun. For now, he would focus on building his strength, honing his skills, and preparing for the day when he would finally unlock the power that lay dormant within him. That day would come soon enough, and when it did, he would be ready.

Feeling the day's exhaustion weighing heavily on him, Eragon lay down near the fire, his body aching from the grueling training. He could feel sleep creeping in, its pull strong and comforting, but he fought against it, determined to stay awake. 'Not yet,' he told himself. Despite his muscles begging for rest, he forced his eyes to remain open, focusing on the crackling fire and the cool air that brushed against his skin.

The minutes dragged on, each one harder than the last. His eyelids felt like lead, his limbs heavy and sluggish. His thoughts grew hazy, but he clenched his jaw, refusing to give in to sleep. After all the training he had endured, he wanted to see if he could push his limits just a little further.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, a soft ding echoed in his mind, cutting through the fog of fatigue. A notification appeared:

[Sleep Deprivation Resistance Level 1.] Gained. This skill passively decreases the effects of sleep deprivation on your body.

A smile crept across Eragon's face despite his exhaustion. 'Finally,' he thought, feeling a surge of satisfaction. The resistance he had been waiting for had appeared. He knew it would be useful for future hardships, and now that it was here, he was eager to strengthen it.

Determined to push even further, Eragon concentrated on staying awake, his mind buzzing with excitement. 'Just a little longer,' he told himself. He kept his eyes open, fighting off the waves of sleep that crashed over him. His heart raced with anticipation, and after what felt like a struggle against his own body, he heard another ding:

[Sleep Deprivation Resistance Level 2.]

His joy was short-lived, however, as the exhaustion finally overwhelmed him. No matter how much he tried to resist, his body demanded rest. His eyelids drooped, and despite his best efforts, his mind drifted away into the embrace of sleep, his body succumbing to the weariness of the day's relentless training.

But as sleep claimed him, he couldn't help but feel content. He had pushed himself beyond his limits, and now, he had another tool to grow stronger. Tomorrow would bring more challenges, but for tonight, he could rest knowing he had taken another step forward.

Over the next two days, Eragon repeated the same process. He trained relentlessly, honing his body and raising his resistance skills in every way he could think of. The small clearing became his personal battlefield, and by the time the fourth day arrived, he was immensely satisfied with his progress. His resistance skills had grown exponentially, and his body felt stronger than ever.

On the morning of the fourth day, Eragon decided to take a break from his intense training regimen. Instead of the usual exercises and resistance farming, he chose to go hunting. If he comes back empty ended, Roran will definitely not let him go on a hunting / training trip easily again.

Of course, it's not like he needs his approval or anything, he can do whatever he wants without regard to what Roran and Garrow think. But it's best not to make waves and to fly under the radar for now as he still needs to live with them if he doesn't want to sleep outside in the cold from now on...

He slung his bow and quiver over his back, packed his stuff and left, ready to put the original Eragon's knowledge of the bow to the test.

The mountains and forests around his village were home to a variety of game, so he wasn't worried about finding a target.

Walking through the quiet forest, he was reminded of just how connected he now felt to the natural world. Every rustle of the wind, every sound of life moving around him—it all felt familiar. It was almost like muscle memory, except it wasn't his own; it belonged to the original Eragon.

His lips curled into a smile as he realized that even though his past life never saw him with a bow in hand, now he felt as though he'd been training for years.

After some time, he finally spotted his prey: two feral chickens scratching at the ground near a thicket of bushes. Eragon crouched low, keeping his breath steady as he prepared his first shot. Carefully, he notched an arrow and pulled back the bowstring, lining up the shot.

"Alright, let's see if this muscle memory holds up," he whispered to himself, a bit of excitement creeping into his voice.

He released the string, sending the arrow flying through the air.

Thwack~

The arrow embedded itself in the ground just inches away from the first chicken.

"Dammit!" Eragon muttered under his breath, feeling a wave of frustration rise up. "How did I miss that? It was right there!"

The chickens, startled, fluttered away for a brief moment before settling back down. Eragon took a deep breath, shaking off the failure. He wasn't about to let one bad shot throw him off his game. Drawing another arrow, he lined up his next shot. This time, he focused more intently, adjusting his aim slightly.

He released the bowstring, and the arrow flew true this time, striking the first chicken square in the chest. The bird let out a squawk before collapsing.

"Yes! Gotcha!" Eragon shouted in triumph, grinning ear to ear. He could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins. "See? I knew I could do it!"

With the first bird down, he quickly retrieved his arrow and the dead chicken, tying it to his belt. But the second chicken had taken off into the denser parts of the forest. A determined gleam shone in his eyes. He wasn't about to give up after just one kill.

"Come on, you little bastard," he muttered under his breath as he moved swiftly through the underbrush, following the trail of the second feral chicken.

The hours ticked by as he searched for his next shot. He spotted the chicken several times, but every time he tried to get close enough to shoot, it would dart out of his range. Each failed attempt gnawed at him.

"Damn bird's quicker than I thought," he grumbled, frustration edging his voice.

His next shot was off the mark, striking the tree bark instead of his target.

"For crying out loud!" he cursed aloud, shaking his head as he retrieved the arrow. "I swear, if this thing doesn't sit still for just a second…"

Finally, as the day wore on and the sun began to dip in the sky, Eragon caught sight of the second chicken once more. This time, it had wandered near the edge of a clearing, pecking nervously at the ground. Eragon notched another arrow, calming his breathing once again.

"Third time's the charm, right?" he whispered with a slight chuckle, feeling the familiar thrill of anticipation course through him.

Drawing back the string, he let the arrow fly.

Thwack~

The arrow struck true, burying itself into the side of the feral chicken. The bird staggered for a moment before falling to the ground.

"Yes! Finally!" Eragon shouted, throwing his fist into the air in a mix of relief and exhilaration. "I knew I could do it! You're not getting away from me this time."

He approached the downed bird with a grin, retrieving his arrow and securing his second kill of the day. As he tied the bird to his belt, he couldn't help but laugh at himself. The thrill of the hunt had really taken over, and it felt good to let loose in a world where he had the freedom to do as he pleased.

"Well, that took longer than I thought," he said to himself, glancing at the setting sun. "Guess it's time to head back before it gets too dark."

With his two feral chickens in hand, Eragon began the trek back home. Although hunting those two birds had taken the better part of his day, he couldn't help but feel a deep sense of satisfaction. Despite a few frustrations along the way, he had successfully tracked, aimed, and shot his prey using the archery skills that were now second nature to him.

As he walked the familiar path back to the wooden house, he couldn't help but talk to himself again, his mind buzzing with excitement for the future.

"That wasn't bad for a first hunt. I wonder what I'll be able to do after a few more days of training. Hell, if I can hunt chickens, I can definitely hunt something bigger next time. Maybe even a deer," he mused, feeling the excitement bubbling up within him again.

Watching the sun was setting behind the mountains, casting an orange glow across the horizon. Eragon smiled to himself as he examined his skills after 4 days of grinding, knowing that this was only the beginning of his journey.

[Pain Resistance Level 13]

[Radiation Resistance Level 14]

[Fatigue Resistance Level 17]

[Abrasion Resistance Level 11]

[Heat Resistance Level 10]

[Blunt Force Resistance Level 3]

[Oxygen Deprivation Resistance Level 3]

[Vertigo Resistance Level 2]

[Irritant Resistance Level 3]

[Cold Resistance Level 11]

[Poison Resistance Level 5]

[Sleep Deprivation Resistance Level 8.]

"There is still room to improve and so much more to learn. Sigh, it's a real bummer it's getting harder to level up now. On my first day in this world I leveled up pain resistance to level 5, but now after 3 days of training it only got 8 levels... I hope it won't get too hard, but for now, I'm content with these gains" While he contemplated the results of the training, he quicken his speed.

By the time he reached his home, the sky had darkened, and the cool evening air welcomed him. Garrow and Roran were inside, and as he stepped through the door with his kills. A smile of satisfaction crept across his face seeing Roran surprised face at him return with 2 feral chickens.

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A/N: if you find any mistakes or have any suggestions please let me know in the comments.