The candlelight flickered over the thick pages, casting long shadows across the library table. The air smelled faintly of ink, parchment, and the polished wood that Cedric had insisted be brought in from Winterford when the room was built.
Aric sat hunched forward, his finger tracing a sketch of a broad-backed beast labeled Ironhide Boar. Its tusks were drawn jagged and cruel, the description beneath outlining its traits in neat script: stubborn, territorial, charging strikes, natural armor thick as plates.
He tilted his head. "So that explains why it felt like hitting a wall every time."
[Oh, you're finally piecing things together. Yes, Host, the giant angry pig was tough. Bravo. Truly groundbreaking insight.]
Aric rolled his eyes but kept reading. The book compared the Ironhide to its lesser cousin, the Gray-Tusk Boar, which was quicker but far less durable. Next to it was a drawing of something nastier—Hornfang Wolf, leaner and sharper than the beasts he had fought.
[Ah, yes. Wolves with anger management issues. You've met their cousins, haven't you? Except these ones? Twice the teeth, half the patience. And a bite skill that doesn't just hurt, it cripples. Imagine fighting that with your noodle arms before you put stat points in strength.]
Aric frowned. "Not noodle arms. Just… not enough."
[Please. You were swinging like you were trying to chop bread. Without your shiny little Arcane Slash, you'd still be out there poking the boar and hoping it fainted from boredom.]
Aric smirked despite himself and flipped the page. The section was on ecosystems—how weaker monsters gathered in herds for protection, while stronger predators roamed alone.
"So prey rely on numbers, and predators rely on strength."
[And brains, sometimes. The clever ones hunt smarter, not harder. Kind of like what you should be doing instead of just swinging until your arms fall off.]
Aric leaned back in his chair. "Are you saying I'm supposed to think like a monster?"
[No. I'm saying if you don't, you'll end up as prey. And trust me, prey lives are short and very bite-filled.]
That earned a soft chuckle, but before Aric could continue, the door creaked open. Lyanna's small face peeked inside, eyes sparkling with curiosity.
"Aric?" she whispered, as though the library were sacred.
He looked up. "Come in, Lyanna. I'm not going to bite."
She scurried in, Elara following behind with a smile that carried both warmth and tiredness.
"I thought you'd be asleep by now," Elara said softly, moving to stand by his chair. She rested a hand briefly on his hair, smoothing it down the way she always had when he was younger.
"I was reading," Aric explained, gesturing at the book. "About monsters."
"Monsters?" Lyanna gasped, pulling herself onto the edge of his chair. "Like the ones outside? The scary ones?"
"They're not scary," Aric said quickly. "Well… they can be. But once you understand them, it's not so bad. You know how to fight them, or avoid them."
[Correction: they are scary. Big teeth, sharp claws, love to eat small children who sneak into libraries at night.]
Aric fought down a grin and said instead, "They're part of the world. Just like deer or rabbits. They follow rules too."
Elara tilted her head, studying him. "And what rules have you learned so far?"
"That strength isn't everything. Some use speed, some use numbers, some use tricks. They all have weaknesses if you look close enough."
Lyanna blinked up at him, serious in that way only a seven-year-old trying to understand the world could be. "So… you're learning their secrets?"
Aric smiled faintly. "Something like that."
[Look at you, the wise scholar. Next thing you'll be publishing 'How Not to Die to Beasts: A Beginner's Guide.']
Lyanna leaned against his shoulder, content with that answer, and Elara pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Don't stay up too late, Aric. Knowledge is good, but sleep keeps the body strong."
"I will," he promised.
When they left, the room felt quieter, but not empty. He opened the book again, this time to the section on combat strategies. Sketches of hunters illustrated maneuvers—flanking boars, outpacing wolves, using terrain to trap rather than chase.
He leaned forward, eyes narrowing, and let himself imagine.
The library faded into the back of his mind. The training yard appeared instead, though no one else was there. He pictured the scarred wooden dummies as wolves—fangs bared, muscles taut.
His body moved on instinct.
Quickstep: he darted forward, his footwork lighter, sharper than before. He could almost feel the rush of air at his heels. Sword Thrust: his blade lunged toward the phantom beast.
Arcane Slash: his mind flared, mana pouring into his swing, and he saw the glowing arc tear through the shadow of a wolf.
[Much better. At least you don't look like you're trying to swat flies anymore. The boars would be proud.]
Aric spun, chained the moves together again, and again. His strikes weren't perfect—they wavered, his breath hitched—but they flowed better than they had before.
He stopped, chest rising and falling, sweat prickling at his temples even though none of it was real.
[See? That's the power of visualization. Train the mind, and the body follows. Train the body, and the monsters regret being born. Simple loop.]
Aric leaned on the imagined sword, lips quirking. "You sound almost encouraging."
[Don't tell anyone. Ruins my reputation as a charming menace.]
Aric chuckled. "Right. Wouldn't want people thinking you're helpful."
[Exactly. Now, keep reading. Learn the tricks, steal the ideas. Your muscles won't grow from paper, but your head will—and both matter if you don't want to die.]
Aric opened his eyes. The library returned. The candle flickered lower. He traced the wolf sketch with his fingertip, gaze steady. He wasn't just memorizing facts anymore. He was building something.
Not fast. Not easy. But real.
[Keep stacking inches, Host. That's how you climb mountains.]
Aric breathed deep, turned the page, and kept reading until the candle guttered nearly out.