Class Is In Session

Nox awoke the next morning with feverish anticipation.

He had struggled to sleep all night as he couldn't stop his brain from whirring. His eyes drooped darkly with eye bags and yet Nox couldn't have felt more awake.

On Earth, little had the chance to excite him. When every day was a struggle to survive, there was no time to pursue hobbies and such. He had never played any video games, never played any sports outside of mandatory school lessons and ultimately never found anything in life that truly excited him.

Over time, his dull reality led to him growing increasingly cold and detached. With his powers ostracizing him from society, Nox was resigned to living a miserable, uninteresting life.

Things would be changing today, however! Nox was on the path to being a knight, and not one of those knights from Earth. No, a superhuman, walking powerhouse. Seeing his father's training every day had ignited something in him that he didn't know he had: passion.

As the morning sun's first rays of light shone through the window, Nox shot up to his feet. Hastily dressing himself in a pair of simple black trousers and white tunic, he quietly crept out of his room, trying not to awaken his pet spider wolf.

This pet was brought back by his father after an expedition to a neighbouring region. Supposedly, their dungeon had suffered an outbreak and was crawling with rabid spider wolves.

While they were a serious threat to the locals, Nox's father had little trouble dispatching them all. When he finally entered the dungeon, he discovered a lone spider-wolf egg. After some debate, the man decided to bring the egg home to make a pet for his son.

Spider wolves were fiercely loyal to those they first saw after birth, an imprinting process of sorts. Given this, Winston saw little harm in giving the egg to Nox as a companion.

"Perhaps the wolf might protect him one day, or at least give him some company while I'm gone" he had thought.

Over the years, the beast had grown alongside him until it reached its current hulking size. It had proven to be a loyal friend and Nox had grown rather attached to it after their countless adventures around the castle.

Managing to not disturb the beast, Nox slowly shut the door until it clinked. Immediately, he sped down the hallways as fast as he could. The servants could only dash out of the way in exasperation. They had grown painfully used to his antics by now.

It only took a moment for him to reach the door to the courtyard.

The door was unlocked and allowed Nox to see the sturdy bare back of his father sitting cross-legged in the middle of the courtyard. It also allowed him to notice something he had only ever seen from afar, atop his balcony.

Every inch of the man's back was covered in an elaborate tattoo. To merely call it a tattoo, however, was an injustice. The piece was more like a work of art. A landscape of darkness spread in every direction, except for a small torch at the man's lower back. The entire upper portion was dominated by a terrifying figure, one that gave Nox pause.

"That... that's a dragon!" his heart raced.

Indeed, a colossal dragon wrapped around the man's upper back. Its scales shone with an ominous purple hue, its claws spread like scythes, its reptilian amber eyes seemed to pierce Nox's soul.

The more he watched the figure, the more he felt himself slipping into those mesmerising eyes. He wasn't sure if he imagined things, but he was sure he felt the picture come to life, the dragon staring back at him.

As he slipped further from consciousness, the small torch seemed to erupt in his vision. The flames, previously meek and powerless, raged with blood-boiling intensity. They seemed to scream in defiance against their helplessness. The world of darkness became scorched in fire. The dragon was nowhere to be seen.

"Boy!" Winston shouted, bringing Nox back from his revelry.

At some point, his father had turned around to face him without him realising. The haze over his mind suddenly vanished as he couldn't help but shiver.

"What was that thing?" Nox asked cautiously, still recovering.

Winston's expression became serious at that question,

"That is the Life Painting, it is part of the Gift of the Gods. When one reaches a high enough rank, their experiences coalesce into the Life Painting. It is an expression of a person's willpower and persistence. There is more to it than that, but you can save those questions for Leonard" he explained patiently whilst walking towards the shabby weapon rack in the corner.

"We are here to master wielding weapons. When we are finished, you will know each weapon here like the back of your hand. To start with, you'll be learning the sword" he paused, taking a standard one-handed shortsword from the rack.

"Swords are amongst the most versatile of weapons and for that reason, one of the most common. Swords come in countless forms, shortswords, longswords, greatswords, single edged, double edged and so on."

"Their moveset is varied with slashes, thrusts and pommel strikes being just the basics. Each sword will need to be wielded differently, and you will naturally learn many styles of using them. You will learn what suits you the most over time."

Before continuing, Winston's face adopted a stern expression,

"Above all else, you must understand that no weapon or style is without flaws. Cultivating your weapon skills is an art, one that requires constant revision and adaptation. If you remain stagnant in your techniques, you will remain stagnant in your strength."

Nox nodded at those words, his face adopting a similarly earnest expression.

Winston smiled in that moment.

Before Nox could properly react, a sword came hurtling his way.

Taking him completely by surprise, the sword knocked into his chest and winded him for a second.

"First Lesson! Your sword is your life! If you drop your sword, you forfeit your life!" a smirk growing across his face.

"Now, defend yourself!" he commanded as he launched himself towards Nox.

Nox knew full well that this was nowhere near his father's full strength. He couldn't even see the man's movements against the strange puppet before, but now, his speed was manageable.

Picking up the wooden training sword from the ground, he tried to grip it as intuitively as he could. He was taken aback by the weight of it. Despite being a one-handed shortsword, the five-year-old Nox could only use both hands.

Glancing across at his incoming opponent, he felt lost.

Nox had no clue what he was supposed to do. His father had barely taught him anything before plunging him into a fight. This wasn't how training was supposed to go!

Despite this, Nox's experience on Earth had given him some guts. He was prepared to slice his attacker's throat back then, and he certainly wouldn't back down now. Thinking back on how he had surprised the man that night, Nox had an idea.

Planting his feet firmly into the ground, he readied his stance until Winston was within arm's reach. With a powerful overhead slash, his father swung his blade towards Nox's skull, threatening to shatter it in one blow.

Nox wasn't deterred though. At the last minute, he heaved his body to the side and lunged towards the man's exposed throat, leaping into the air. He had learnt his lesson this time. No overconfidence, no hesitation. His eyes were fixed on his target like a predator to its prey.

His opponent was far taller than him, but the length of the sword and his jump would let him reach.

Every fibre in his being was dedicated to this strike.

Winston's eyes lit up in amusement at this. He had assumed things would be slow going training the boy, but it seemed the Clark blood ran strong in his veins. He was a quick study.

"Lesson two!" he shouted as he similarly sidestepped the incoming pierce.

"Overcommitting to strikes will only leave huge openings!"

Nox's momentum was so powerful that he practically swept himself off his feet as he stumbled forward. A playful slap on the back from the flat of Winston's blade sent him tumbling to his knees.

Gritting his teeth, he shot to his feet and charged his father,

"Again!"

Nox came within the man's reach quickly and delivered several strikes in succession. He was mostly running on instinct. Oblique strike to the thigh, a horizontal slash to the stomach, an upward slash to the groin. Winston didn't even bother deflecting the strikes with his blade, opting instead to weave through them gracefully.

Nox didn't let up in his offensive though. With each strike delivered, his blood boiled, and his eyes burned with fury.

Seeing this, Winston felt he saw a flash of his younger self. Admonishingly, he instructed,

"Rage is a powerful tool, but no more. You control it, do not let it control you."

Nox ignored those words, however, as he relentlessly tried to get even a glancing blow on his father.

A minute later, the frequency of strikes slowed to a snail's pace. Nox panted heavily as he desperately gasped for air.

Seeing his sorry state, Winston pointed the tip of his blade towards Nox's chest. With a light push, he fell backwards, too weak to pose even the slightest resistance.

While he laboured over every breath, his father approached him until he was towering over him.

"Lesson four, pace yourself!" he laughed heartily at Nox's expense.

Eventually, he offered out his hand to the boy. Reluctantly, Nox took his father's hand and let him pull him up to his feet.

"This old bastard!"

- - - - -

Training continued for several hours after that. Not only was he trained in weapons, but he underwent a basic body training scheme. As a five-year old, weights weren't really appropriate, but bodyweight and cardio exercises proved sufficient to leave Nox feeling utterly drained.

Thankfully, training eventually ended, and he was left with Scholar Leonard. The old man looked especially youthful today as he donned a long sky-blue robe that highlighted his azure eyes.

"We'll be starting today with possibly the most important subject of all: the Gift."

Those words managed to rejuvenate Nox somewhat. He had constantly heard of this Gift. It was supposed to be the source of his father's power, not to mention his strange tattoo. He was eager to learn more, although he was sceptical about one point.

He had frequently heard the Gift referred to as the Gift of the Gods. So, Gods really existed in this world? Coming from a largely atheist society on Earth, he had a hard time believing such a concept, but he also shouldn't judge this world by Earth's standards.

He had already seen incredible things in his short time here, who was to say Gods didn't really exist?

Leonard cleared his throat as he began,

"Around five and a half thousand years ago, this universe was invaded by the Voro race. They are malicious parasites that consume the world itself and kill everyone they come across."

"After around five hundred years, the Gods intervened. They staged an enormous battle against the foul beasts. The battle was hard fought and even resulted in one of the Gods deaths later, though you don't have to worry about that. Thankfully, however, the Gods managed to repel the Voro and their leader."

"As both sides recouped their forces, the Gods began to fear for their subjects. All of the races that occupied their realm were under grave threat. Eventually, they, in their magnanimity, decided to bestow upon us a gift" the man paused, his eyes gleaming with reverence.

"They created a means for all of us to grow stronger and protect ourselves. They gave us part of their powers, so we may take them for ourselves. Through the Gift, we can progress through 'Ranks' and 'Levels' to become stronger. Each one grants us better 'stats' that give us stronger bodies, minds, etc." the man sipped some water briefly to soothe his hoarse throat.

"We can choose a 'class' based on what suits us best. This is determined by our experiences before receiving the Gift and our natural predispositions. Those born with strong constitutions are likely to become warriors for example."

"At the age of twelve, one must visit a temple to the Gods. There, they will undergo the bestowing ritual and gain access to the incredible power. As one progresses and grows stronger, the Gods start to take a more personal interest and may even bless one directly."

Looking towards Nox with his zealous eyes, Leonard continued,

"Your father has been blessed by Nissa, God Of Fire, much as his father had been before him. The Clark bloodline runs hot with flames. He holds great expectations for you."

Leonard finally stopped speaking at that moment, giving Nox time to process the torrent of information he heard.

Firstly, it seemed the Gods were very much real in this world, and very involved in people's lives. Then there was this strange Voro race. What kind of threat would they pose to Nox going forward? He couldn't be sure just yet.

He was especially confused by the way Leonard described the Gift. Despite not having chance himself, he had overheard classmates in the past playing and talking about video games. He was familiar with concepts such as 'levels' and 'stats', but what were they doing here? This Gift seemed eerily like a video game, and he couldn't understand why that was the case just yet.

From Leonard's words, the Gift had been around far longer than video games. And yet, the situation was too striking to be a simple coincidence. Nox was very suspicious.

He had a plethora of questions he wanted to ask but there was one that had especially grabbed his attention. Leonard's explanation of this matter was quite strange, given how he usually loved to hyper-explain everything.

"Who was the God that died?"

Those words made Leonard grimace uncomfortably. After what seemed to be an internal struggle of some sort, he finally managed to squeeze out a few words,

"That would be....the God of Death"

Nox's entire body shivered uncontrollably.