Chapter 117: Granting Wisdom

Kellan attacked, and merely five seconds later, he discovered that assumptions were dangerous.

The wooden lance snapped forward with considerably more skill than Damian expected from a newly awakened Fighter.

Garrick had clearly drilled the fundamentals into his grandson properly, because Kellan did not simply stab wildly.

His feet moved with the thrust, his rear hand guided the shaft while the forward hand controlled direction, and the moment Damian shifted sideways, Kellan immediately withdrew instead of leaving the weapon hanging uselessly in the air.

It was good... for a Level 2 Fighter.

Unfortunately, Damian had just spent the previous hour or so dueling a centuries-old Great Fey while using a sword art at Perfection.

The wooden sword slipped beside the lance, tapped the shaft aside and struck Kellan across the wrist before the boy even realized his attack had failed.

THWACK!

"Argh!"

Kellan instinctively tightened his grip instead of releasing the weapon, which was admirable.

Damian rewarded that admirable determination by striking his ribs.

THWACK!

Air burst from Kellan’s lungs as he stumbled sideways, but the young man recovered quickly and tried to create distance using the lance’s superior reach.

He even changed his grip, swept the weapon horizontally to discourage Damian from advancing and followed with another thrust the instant the wooden sword intercepted the sweep.

Damian stepped inside the thrust and casually slammed his shoulder into Kellan’s chest.

The boy flew backward and hit the floor hard enough that his teeth clicked together, yet years of Garrick beating martial discipline into him made Kellan roll almost immediately and attempt to stand.

The wooden sword came down across his thigh, then his shoulder, then his side.

Wham! Wham! Wham!

One could almost see impact frames with each strike Damian landed on the poor fellow.

What followed stopped resembling a duel shortly afterward.

Damian didn’t use magic, Refined Qi, Object Control, <Misty Step> or any of the other abilities that would have made the exercise completely pointless.

He restricted himself enough that Kellan could actually perceive what was happening, then systematically punished every mistake the teenager made.

Whenever Kellan charged angrily, Damian redirected him.

Whenever he became overly defensive, Damian entered his reach.

Whenever the boy focused too much on protecting somewhere that already hurt, another part of his body paid the price.

Kellan’s spear technique was not bad, but technique developed against training partners and imaginary enemies could only prepare someone so far for an opponent who genuinely intended to put them down.

Eventually the wooden lance slipped from numb fingers, Kellan dropping beside it.

His entire body trembled as he tried to rise again, stubbornness forcing one knee underneath him before Damian planted the wooden sword lightly against his shoulder.

"Enough." Damian ordered.

Kellan immediately collapsed back onto the floor.

"...Yes, Master Damian."

Damian almost laughed at how dramatically the boy’s enthusiasm had changed.

Several minutes ago, Kellan had practically vibrated with excitement after reaching Level 2.

Now he looked personally betrayed by the concept of advancement.

Damian healed the worst of the damage before making him rest for an hour.

By the time Kellan’s body had completely recovered, the young Fighter could move normally again, although the suspicious way he kept glancing toward the wooden sword suggested his spirit had not benefited from the same treatment.

Then Damian brought out more Qi Nourishing Pills.

Kellan stared at them, his expression becoming complicated.

"Master Damian... are those for me?"

"Naturally."

Kellan looked toward the wooden sword, then toward the pills, then back toward Damian.

"...Afterward?"

Damian smiled and Kellan’s face fell.

The process resumed right away.

Due to the fact that Damian deliberately refused to use a Qi Acceleration Pill, the diminishing effect of the Qi Nourishing Pills remained in place.

What had taken only ten pills for the first advancement now required progressively more, forcing Kellan to sit there swallowing pill after pill while Experience crawled upward until the next threshold was finally reached.

When Kellan became Level 3, his body strengthened again.

Damian handed him the wooden lance, and this time there was no confidence in the youngster, only grim acceptance.

The second beating lasted longer than the first.

This wasn’t because Kellan had suddenly become Damian’s equal, but because he had already learned several lessons from the previous one.

He stopped recklessly chasing openings Damian deliberately presented, protected his hands more carefully and used the lance’s reach instead of continuously allowing Damian to enter his guard.

That improvement pleased Damian immensely, so he beat the lad half to death anyway!

Afterward came healing, an hour of rest and another increasingly ridiculous pile of Qi Nourishing Pills, then Level 4.

By now Kellan had gained his first new Feat from the rapid climb, something that should have been an exhilarating milestone for any young Fighter, but the boy barely smiled.

Damian tossed him the wooden lance and Kellan caught it with both hands while visibly swallowing.

The third fight began.

By Level 5, Kellan had stopped asking whether there would be another one.

By Level 6, he had stopped looking toward the weapon rack at all.

Reaching Journeyman should have been one of the proudest moments of his life.

Countless Fighters spent years struggling through the Novice Stage, taking dangerous work, hunting monsters and saving whatever money they could afford for training resources.

Kellan crossed that entire distance within a single night.

He received the advancement, felt the qualitative improvement of entering Journeyman and looked toward Damian with hollow resignation.

Damian raised the wooden sword while Kellan quietly picked up the lance himself.

"That’s the spirit." Damian praised.

Kellan looked close to tears.

The process continued until the final threshold arrived and Kellan reached Level 7, earning his second Feat along the way.

Only then did Damian stop.

By the end of it, Kellan sat on the floor against the wall with his knees raised and his arms resting limply upon them.

Physically, there was nothing wrong with him.

Damian had healed the damage after every fight, ensuring that no accumulated injury interfered with the next stage of training.

The teenager’s bones were intact, his muscles healthy and his newly strengthened Level 7 body was probably in better condition than it had ever been.

His mind disagreed though, as Kellan could still feel the wooden sword striking his ribs.

His wrist occasionally twitched because some traitorous part of his nervous system expected another blow.

Whenever Damian moved too suddenly, the teenager’s shoulders tightened instinctively, while his red-rimmed eyes and trembling lips suggested that only pride prevented several deeply deserved tears from escaping.

Damian sat opposite him and patiently waited.

Eventually, Kellan looked up.

"Master Damian... did all of that actually serve a purpose?"

Damian smiled faintly. "Yes, although probably not the purpose you’re imagining."

Kellan stared at him for several seconds, then finally found enough courage to ask the question that had clearly been burning inside him.

"Then what was the purpose? I understand training hurts, Sir, but you gave me the pills and then beat me almost unconscious every time I leveled. If you wanted me stronger, wouldn’t the pills have been enough?"

There it was, the perfectly reasonable question.

Damian placed the wooden sword beside himself and leaned back against the opposite wall.

"The first thing I want you to understand is that I did not beat you because I believe suffering makes power more legitimate." Damian explained calmly.

"That would make me the biggest hypocrite in this entire kingdom. I’ve taken every shortcut available to me since arriving in Valoria, and if somebody showed me a safe method tomorrow that could double my strength while I slept, I’d climb into bed before they finished explaining it."

Kellan blinked in surprise.

That had clearly not been the answer he expected.

Damian continued, "Pain is not some magical currency the universe accepts in exchange for worthiness. Plenty of people suffer terribly and gain absolutely nothing from it. Likewise, somebody who finds an easier route isn’t less deserving merely because another person had to crawl through broken glass to reach the same destination. If a bridge crosses a ravine, only an idiot jumps down and climbs the opposite wall because he thinks taking the bridge is dishonorable."

"Then why did I have to... do that?" Kellan hesitated before gesturing weakly toward the wooden sword.

"Because the shortcut wasn’t the problem. You were." Damian pointed at Kellan with a pointed look.

Kellan’s eyes widened.

Damian raised one hand before the teenager misunderstood.

"It’s not because you’re a bad person. You’re a good lad, Kellan, and that’s precisely why I’m willing to spend this much time making sure you stay one."

Damian considered how best to explain it before remembering an old story his father had once used while teaching him about money.

"Imagine two young men each receive a thousand Gold Coins." Damian began.

"The first spent fifteen years building a business from nothing. He remembers the first Copper he earned, every month when wages were difficult to pay, every bad investment and every time one mistake nearly ruined him."

Damian paused then continued. "Then one day someone rewards him with a thousand Gold Coins for free."

Kellan listened silently.

"Meanwhile, the second man wakes up on his eighteenth birthday and receives the same thousand Gold Coins as the first young man at the same time."

"Neither man stole anything nor is one morally better because of how he obtained the money, and the thousand Gold Coins possess exactly the same value in both hands."

Damian tapped one finger against his knee.

"But which of them is more likely to understand what losing a hundred Gold coins means?"

Kellan hesitated. "The first."

"Exactly. It’s not just because he suffered and therefore deserves the money more, but because that experience taught him its weight. The second man might be equally intelligent, equally kind and equally responsible, but until life teaches him what money actually represents, there’s a danger that a hundred Gold feels like a small number simply because a thousand arrived easily."

Damian pointed toward Kellan. "Power works the same way."

Understanding slowly entered the teenager’s expression.

"You were Classless just yesterday. Tonight you awakened as a Level 1 Fighter, and in a few hours I’ve taken you all the way to Level 7. Do you understand how insane that is?" Damian asked with folded arms.

Kellan looked down at his hands.

He did now, perhaps more than he had before.

Damian continued, "Tomorrow you’ll enter Moonveil Forest to meet Dark Goblins, and many of them will be weaker than you. With your grandfather’s spear training, your new Attributes, your Fighter progression and the Feats you’ve just gained, some enemies who would have terrified you a week ago may suddenly become easy to kill."

His voice hardened slightly. "That’s where the danger begins."

Kellan raised his head.

"If your first experience after receiving this power is crushing weaker enemies, your mind can learn the wrong lesson, though not deliberately."

Damian sighed and shook his head. "That’s the sinister aspect of it. You won’t wake up and decide to become an arrogant bastard one day. No, it often happens more quietly than that."

"You may dodge an attack that once would have killed you or overpower someone who once used to be stronger than you. You win again, then again, and soon the part of your brain responsible for keeping you alive begins assuming that this is simply what being powerful feels like."

Damian’s eyes narrowed.

"Then you meet the wrong Dark Goblin."

The room became quiet.

"It could be one who hides his Level, or one with an ability you’ve never seen. It could be one whose technique is better than yours, or maybe even five weaker goblins work together properly."

"Maybe you become angry because one reminds you of Varkas and chase him away from everyone else. Suddenly the power that made you feel safe becomes the reason you walked into a grave."

Kellan unconsciously tightened his hands.

Damian gestured toward the wooden sword.

"So before you ever experienced how easy fighting weaker enemies could become, I made sure your first lesson after every increase in strength was the opposite. You became Level 2 and lost, level 3 and lost. Then Level 4, Level 5, Journeyman, Level 7... and every single time your Character Sheet told you that you had become stronger, I immediately demonstrated that becoming stronger did not make you safe."

Kellan stared at him.

"That is what tonight was for. The pain was memorable, certainly, but it wasn’t payment for the Levels, it was an anchor."

"Tomorrow, when you kill your first Dark Goblin more easily than you expected and some little voice inside your head says, ’I’m strong now,’ I want another voice answering, ’Yes, but there is always someone who can beat the shit out of me.’"

Kellan’s lips twitched despite himself.

Damian smiled slightly before becoming serious again.

"You look like you want to ask why I didn’t do this to Bram, David, Dax, Jory and the others when I raised their Levels."

Kellan nodded.

"The difference is simple. They had already paid for their understanding before they met me, through years of living at their previous strength. Bram spent almost two years crawling through the Novice Stage, David had worked as a Warden for years, and Jory had already lost companions in Moonveil Forest."

"Every one of them knew exactly how dangerous the world remained because they’d already failed, struggled, trained and watched people die while trying to progress."

Damian spread his hands.

"When I gave them pills, I accelerated growth they already understood. I didn’t suddenly transform somebody who had never driven a carriage into the fastest racer in Rastia and send them toward a cliff."

Kellan quietly processed the comparison.

"You were different. You had years of spear training, yes, and Garrick gave you a much better martial foundation than most people your age, but you had no experience living with supernatural strength."

"No experience judging what a Level 7 body can survive, how much faster your reactions are, how tempting it is to trust that speed, or how badly someone more experienced can exploit you anyway."

Damian leaned forward.

"So I gave you one night of concentrated humility before you received a battlefield full of opportunities to learn arrogance."

Kellan remained speechless for a long time.

Then another thought seemed to occur to him.

"But... you grew even faster than I did, Master Damian."

Damian smiled.

There it was, the obvious objection.

"Correct, which is why I know exactly what I’m warning you about."

Kellan looked surprised.

Damian folded his arms. "Do you think because I’ve benefited from shortcuts, I suddenly believe I’m immune to their weaknesses? If anything, I’m the person most at risk. I’ve been in this world a little over a week and I can already kill things that should be far beyond me. That is very dangerous for my mentality."

His thoughts briefly returned to Ravelhorn’s scythe approaching his waist.

"If I start confusing ’my abilities are ridiculous’ with ’I cannot die,’ eventually I’m going to meet something whose ability I don’t understand, make one arrogant decision and wake up dead before I even know what happened."

Kellan’s expression became strange at the wording.

Damian ignored it.

"The difference is that I’m responsible for myself. I chose my shortcuts, test my abilities, deliberately seek fights that teach me something when the risk is acceptable and spend an unhealthy amount of time thinking about everything that could kill me."

He pointed at Kellan.

"But I am the one giving you this shortcut, so that makes your safety partly my responsibility. I refuse to hand a grieving teenager enough power to slaughter the creatures he hates and then act surprised if he loses perspective."

That finally silenced every objection.

Kellan lowered his head, and for nearly a minute, neither spoke.

Then. the young Fighter pushed himself upright.

His legs no longer hurt, but his body still remembered enough pain that the movement was cautious.

Kellan faced Damian and bowed deeply.

"Thank you for taking care of me, Lord Damian."

There was no excitement in his voice this time, nor the childish worship Damian sometimes saw when Kellan looked at him, only genuine understanding.

Damian’s expression softened.

He rose and walked over, placing one hand firmly upon the teenager’s shoulder.

"I expect great things from you, Kellan. Garrick clearly raised you well, and I didn’t invest all this effort into you because I wanted another idiot who knows how to swing a weapon."

Kellan straightened slightly.

"Tomorrow, you’re coming with me into Moonveil Forest. We’re going to deal with the Dark Goblins, and you’re finally going to have the opportunity you’ve been asking me for." Damian continued.

Hatred flashed through Kellan’s eyes, but unlike earlier, it did not immediately consume everything else.

He nodded seriously.

"Yes, Lord Damian."

Damian patted his shoulder once before heading toward the door.

"Good, then sleep properly tonight. If I come back here and catch you training again, tomorrow’s lesson will begin before we reach Moonveil Forest."

Kellan’s face paled. "I’ll sleep!"

Damian laughed as he opened the door.

Behind him, Kellan looked once toward Garrick’s spear, then toward his bed.

For once, the choice required absolutely no internal struggle.