Elkend held the smallsword in his left hand, panting heavily while trying to hold the sword the right way like his mother taught him.

Across the grassy field that was their backyard, his mother, Veanda, held her wooden smallsword in one hand, standing there looking almost bored.

Elkend shivered as he got into the fighting stance his mother taught him and thrusted an attack, only for it to get deflected and for her to sweep his legs from under him with her legs, making him slip and hit his head on the soft ground of grass.

Her skill in swordsmanship was terrifying. Every movement was calculated, precise, and not one bit of energy was wasted, and her footwork was nimble and elegant; almost like a dance.

Her strikes were fast and unpredictable, and he was so sure there was no way to predict where her next hit was going to be.

Standing up, Elkend huffed in annoyance as he picked the fallen sword from the ground and looked at his mother while getting into his fighting stance, preparing for another spar.

They stared down at each other, both of them analyzing the other's stance. Looking for holes in the other's defense. Though Elkend knew it was useless, his mother always came out on top no matter wh—

Elkend abruptly took a step towards his mother and thrusted the pointy tip of his sword at the opening he had found, and for a split second, he thought he had finally won against his mother. After fifteen crushing defeats, he thought that his mother has finally gotten let her guard down.

But, life was cruel.

His sword was almost touching his mother's ribs when his mother sidestepped and took a huge step towards him, and the world promptly flipped upside down as his body hit the ground with a dull thud.

Elkend stared at the blue sky with a confused look as he laid on the ground, sword in one hand and grass in the other. His mother stuck out a hand to help him stand up, and as he took up the offer and held the sword preparing for another spar, realization dawned.

Elkend cursed himself as they started another spar, and hurriedly parried a thrust from his mother while trying to counterattack.

It was a trap. A fucking trap, that's what it was.

God, he felt so fucking stupid! Of course, it was a trap! His mother was good with the sword, there was no way there would be an opening in her defense!

His mother simply left an opening deliberately in her defense to lure him in to attack, and dropped the sword to side-step towards him, making it impossible to counter-attack at that point and simply judo fucking flipped him.

Elkend quietly cursed as he shook himself out of his thoughts and tried to deflect an attack and failed miserably; getting distracted in a real fight would be his downfall if this trend kept going.

Standing up from the ground, his mother called out to him from her shoulder as she started walking towards the backdoor; the sword left on the Pergola's table.

"Alright, I think that's enough for today's sparring! You're improving, but for now, go take a bath Elkend, you stink!"

Elkend didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Him? Improving? That was a lie. All he got good at was getting intimate with the ground and knowing what dirt tasted like from how much he got thrown to the ground.

In the end, all he did was simply bob his head in a poor intimation of a nod and left the sword next to his mother's before catching up to her.

His muscles hurt and his hand was sore and hurting from holding a sword for a long time. The warm-ups and the small breaks in between matches helped a little, but they didn't completely negate the effects.

Elkend needed a cold bath; for his sanity or body he didn't know and, frankly, he didn't want to know.

Elkend sighed in pure bliss as he slipped into the barrel of water that his mother prepared for him. The cold water was reinvigorating to him and nursed his sore muscles; he always looked forward to this moment after hours of training and sparring.

After a few minutes of pure bliss and relaxation, Elkend took the soap on the table next to him and started washing away the dirt and grime that his hair and body had collected while training

Having finished bathing, Elkend carefully stepped out of the barrel and took the long cloth of rabbit fur that was sewed together to make an impressive impression of a towel, and started drying himself.

Throwing on a brown tunic and light pants, Elkend went out of the attic down the stairs for dinner.

Having arrived at the end of the stairs, Elkend's nose picked up the smell of rabbit soup and his steps became a touch faster; eager for the delicious meal.

Walking leisurely and at the same time hurriedly, Elkend arrived at the dining table and sat down and promptly started eating in silence, except for the small scolding he got from his mother for shoving down the food onto his throat and about eating slowly so he wouldn't choke.

It was only a minute into eating that his mother started talking first.

"You know, I've been thinking about this for a while—"

Elkend knew right then and there that she was going to say something life-changing. Heck, this was how she always started something important!

"—but how about, uh, I- we, I mean," she faked a cough to hide her growing embarrassment at her stutter, "How about we move away from the village? Like, live somewhere else?"

Elkend blinked at her, his features frozen in an expression Veanda couldn't begin to discern.

Veanda shifted in her chair uncomfortably, something about the way her son stared unnerved her. It didn't suit the face of a child at all. It rather suited the face of a soldier who had gone to war and came back to a dead family.

Finally, Elkend broke off the awkward silence with a look of curiosity in his eyes. He leaned forward on the table, elbows upfront as if he can coerce the answer out of his mother.

"I don't necessarily mind, but why? It's not like I have any friends, so I don't care, I'm just curious."

His mother shifted in her chair again, and the candles flickered for a second in the dark, creating an almost terrific atmosphere, but it vanished the next second, the table not changed, and Veanda finally replied.

"Well, for one, there's no academy for kids in here, and I'd like for you to have a proper education, and you never socialize with other kids your age here in the village!"

Elkend hummed quietly for a second, and then—

"Fair enough."

Veanda blinked incredulously at Elkend.

"That's it? No wailing, crying, or even grumbling?"

Elkend simply shrugged at his mother across the table.

"I just told you that I don't necessarily mind, didn't—"

His mother then promptly turned into a mumbling bee as soon as she got the affirmative, muttering about which Kingdom was the closest to them, where they would live there, the costs and fees' of living, getting a citizen card to register as a citizen, job opportunities, and more.

Sighing, Elkend stood up and took the dirty dishes and organized them in a barrel, and shook his mother's shoulders to tell her It's time to sleep.

Sheepishly smiling, his mother went to wash her hands, and Elkend, having already done that, sluggishly walked up the stairs to his attic and bluntly fell on the bed once he was close enough.

He sighed tiredly as he slipped into his fur-blanket.

Why was life so hard sometimes? Why did he need to be reincarnated? It would've been much more peaceful if he hadn't reincarnated and died quietly without a hassle.

Elkend sighed again (he seemed to be doing that more than usual recently and he hated it), what's done is done, no point in regretting what has already happened.