The stone dagger sharpens the rough bark, scraping away at it slowly again and again until it’s rounded down into a shape that suits its purpose.

  Nadeden runs her fingers along her thigh, tracing the scorch marks with her nails until she finds the stump where her leg ends, and the stone cork that Hadel had made for her begins.

  She twists the wood onto the cork, drilling into it until it sits in place.

  She rises from the tree stump, placing both her old foot and new one on the lush field of grass.

  “Alright.” She claps her hands together, drawing out a long exhale, “Now we can get started.”

  Gelmidas’s ghost hangs over her, intruding on her solitude. “Teaching Smith to fight? Interesting, so you really have given up on any chance of them being your second shot at raising a child?”

  Nadeden marches back toward the village, paying no mind to her invasive thoughts.

  “You’re sure about this?”

  Triminiv asks Smith, her ghastly voice beginning to grate on their nerves, “Of course, I’m sure. We both are Triminiv.” Smith exclaims between bites of an apple.

  “I don’t like violence taking place in my village,” Triminiv states, being as stern as she can.

  “But you’re fine with letting people steal from you.” Smith cruelly states.

  Triminiv shakes her head. “Obviously not, but like I said before, it’s a compromise.”

  Smith rests the apple core on the table. “How many times have you compromised, Triminiv?”

  The lack of an answer is enough to tell Smith that the number is a high one.

  Nadeden steps into the village hall. “You ready?”

  Smith firmly nods at Nadeden as they stand. “I am. Is that a new leg?” Nadeden smiles at Smith’s recognition of her handiwork, “It is. I made it myself.”

  Smith smiles back, “Looks nice.”

  Nadeden glances down, admiring her craftsmanship at the compliment. “Thanks, but honestly, I’ll just be happy if this one doesn’t break.”

  After leaving the village hall, the pair is sure to walk as far out into the forest as they can, so that they are both away from everyone's judgment.

  However, Nadeden does her best to find an area that is still open and wide enough to serve as a decent sparring arena.

  She settles on a dirt clearing beneath a circular ring of trees.

  “I’m guessing that you’ve never thrown a punch in your life, given your whole litany thing, am I right?”

  Smith nods, “Yes.”

  Nadeden plants her newly fashioned prosthetic into the ground, winding her arm back as she does so. “What about defending against one?”

  Smith looks at her with a blank face. “Well… I think you’ve seen most of the hits I’ve taken.” Nadeden relaxes her battle stance before chuckling as she realizes that it simply hadn’t fazed her how much she’s seen Smith go through. “Heh, I guess you're right. Here’s what I’m trying to get at, though.”

  She pushes her forearms together, holding them so her elbows hover over her chest and her fists stand idly before her face. “Basic block, it’s natural instinct to protect your face, and to be honest, everything I’m going to teach you is all stuff that came naturally to me. I had to learn how to fight on the fly.”

  Smith presses their thin arms together. “I understand that. It’s why I want to do this. The universe is dangerous. I need to be prepared to face it ahead of time.”

  So they really are set on this. Nadeden thinks as she reenters her battle stance. “Alright. So, as you know, blocking an attack still hurts,”

  “But it keeps you alive.”

  Nadeden nods as Smith completes her sentence.

  She winds back a punch and strikes their arms. Smith is knocked back but maintains the block.

  “Your instincts will be right about half the time,” Nadeden speaks as Smith blocks a swift succession of blows, “But the other half-” Nadeden sweeps Smith's legs, taking them off balance. “Is where things get tricky.”

  Nadeden snatches their hand before they hit the ground. “But let’s just focus on grappling for now.”

  “What’s that?” Smith requests an explanation of the unfamiliar word.

  “What you’ll probably be doing most of the time.” Nadeden falls back into her idle battle stance, signaling for Smith to take one of their own.

  Smith scrapes the soles of a pair of shoes that Shanna gave them across the dirt, kicking it up as they hold out their arms.

  Nadeden shoots Smith a look of approval before lunging forward.

  Smith takes up a block without a second thought.

  Nadeden stops herself.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m blocking.”

  “I can see that, but we’re gonna grapple now.”

  “Alright.” Smith mentally prepares themselves to be hit.

  Nadeden sighs, placing her hands on Smith’s shoulders, breaking their block as she shoves them backward.

  Smith stumbles on the dirt. “That’s grappling?”

  “Yeah.” Nadeden huffs.

  “That’s…” Smith resumes their battle stance, smiling, “That seems easy.”

  “Does it now?” Nadeden laughs. “Imagine having to do that to avoid a punch.”

  She swings at them. Smith grabs her shoulders and shoves her back.

  “Or a sword!” She calls out, sending another strike flying at Smith. They narrowly dodge it by pushing her left shoulder and sprinting past her.

  “That’s great! You’re a natural!” Nadeden lunges out again.

  Smith parries each of her blows with a weary smile, “Really?”

  “Yeah, keep it up! That Pacifist mentality is really working in your favor here!”

  Smith presses a hand against Nadeden’s back, forcing her to stumble forward after a failed punch and for them to roll onto the other side of the clearing.

  “You’re going easy on me.” Smith regains their bearings as Nadeden watches them.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  “Well, you are learning.” She rests a hand on her hip.

  Smith flexes, feeling the need to loosen the stiff joints of this fragile human body. “I guess so. But I thought that fighting was about striking back against an opponent.”

  Nadeden removes her hand from her hip and places it at her side. Her mood shifts as she stares down Smith. “Is that really what you want?”

  Smith folds their arms, shrugging, “I’m not sure.”

  Is it what I want? Smith questions.

  I thought that it might be. After all, how else am I supposed to defend myself if I can’t strike back? I can’t just sit there and take it.

  Nadeden slowly walks over to Smith, standing at their side. “You know that you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I know that we’re both upset, but-”

  “But we still have a long journey ahead of us.”

  Nadeden’s eye widens at Smith’s statement. She certainly didn’t expect such initiative from them. “You want to get to the Forge?”

  Smith tightens their hands into fists at the question. “Of course. You want to kill Gelmidas?”

  Nadeden tightens her hands into fists at the question. “Of course, and you’re right about the journey. Granix might get tired of getting us out of trouble.”

  Smith laughs at Nadeden’s joke. She smiles as her fist spreads back out into a flat palm that playfully pats Smith’s back.

  “Alright, so you want to learn how to attack?” She asks for confirmation, which she receives from Smith in the form of a nod and a reassumed battle stance.

  “Then punch me.”

  “Wait, what?” Smith drops their arms down and their palms go flat.

  “Come on, I can take it.” Nadeden chuckles, trying to lighten the mood again. However, it proves to be ineffective.

  “I know, but…” Smith clenches a fist once more.

  I shall not raise my hand. Smith repeats the phrase in their mind just like they have thousands of times, except now they repeat it knowing that they plan to defy it.

  Their arm is shaking now.

  This goes against everything. Everything they are, everything they’ve known, everything they’ve resisted.

  Worse than all that, if they were to strike out now, they would prove everything that the rusted Mystic said was right.

  I shall not raise my hand.

  Smith winds their arm back, shifting their balance.

  They exhale, then inhale and hold their breath before closing their eyes and screaming out as they toss the punch.

  A faint breeze ripples through the trees.

  Smith lets their arm rest in the air after striking.

  They keep their eyes shut and gasp for breath until Nadeden taps the top of their head.

  “Hey, Smith?”

  Smith hops back, swinging their arms wildly into a block in wait of some sort of retaliation.

  Nadeden laughs again. “You didn’t even hit me!”

  Smith's eyes open wide in disbelief. “How? I could’ve sworn that I did!”

  Smith cradles their fist to their chest, their mind racing How? Is it because I’m holding back?

  Nadeden holds out a fist of her own. “I have an idea.”

  “What?”

  She slugs Smith across the mouth, spit flies onto the dirt and stains her knuckles.

  “Ow!” Smith cries out, stroking their face to ease the pain.

  Nadeden flicks her wrist, flinging off the spit on her knuckles. “Yeah, I guessed that wouldn’t work. It’s those pacifist instincts again; that’s what keeps you from hitting someone back, even if they’re right in front of you.”

  “And you needed to punch me in the face to figure that out!” Smith exclaims. The trees seem to shake as they shout.

  Nadeden shrugs, resting her arms behind her head. “Well, I was just trying to figure out what it would take for you to actually hurt someone.”

  Smith shakes their head disapprovingly, “That’s not why I want to do this, Nadeden. I want to strike back, but-” They realize the hypocrisy in the statement as they gaze down at their hands, these hands that now have to be theirs.

  Smith’s mind races again. I can’t strike back without hurting someone. I have to do it, though.

  I have to strike back, even if it goes against everything I stand for.

  Their fingers curl into a fist. “I want to try again.”

  Nadeden drops her arms back down to her sides with a yawn. “Alright.”

  She stretches, calmly shifting back into a prepared stance.

  Smith twists themselves, contorting so that the hand they intend to strike with is as far from Nadeden as possible for the proper windup.

  “And Smith…” They look up as Nadeden tightens her bandana around her burnt eye. “Don’t put your thumb under your other fingers, you’ll break it that way.”

  Smith corrects the mistake.

  “Ready?”

  “Whenever you are.”

  Smith throws the fist forward, gasping as Nadeden catches it with a smirk, “Good, but I’m not gonna make it easy for you.”

  She twists the hand away. Smith stumbles but quickly recovers.

  “No one is going to make it easy for you.” Nadeden’s singular eye squints at Smith, who readies another strike as she holds her arms out in a taunt, “Now hit me!”

  Smith rushes her. Nadeden ducks. Smith swings down. Nadeden sidesteps and springs back up to catch another fist, “Faster.”

  Smith knocks her hand away at the remark and flings both hands forward. Nadeden simply steps backward.

  Smith lunges with another punch. Nadeden dodges, kicking up dirt behind her. Smith nearly lands a hit, but his fist is caught in Nadeden’s palm yet again. “Better.”

  Still with their hand in Nadeden’s, Smith throws another punch that meets empty air as Nadeden ducks and pushes them backward.

  They rush her again, but she twists away.

  The strikes turn rapid.

  Nadeden beams with pride as she avoids all of them. “Come on!”

  Smith can’t help but smile as they skip over the ground chasing Nadeden around the clearing.

  They shouldn’t be enjoying this.

  This is a necessity. Conflict is evil, horrid. But this can hardly be considered conflict.

  No. This is something else.

  Something that Smith hasn’t experienced since being locked in a human body, and something that Nadeden hasn’t experienced since Adamus died.

  The pair dance in the clearing beneath the trees.

  The sunlight creeps in between the cracks, somehow finding its way onto the scene. The dirt is forced up into a whirlwind as Nadeden and Smith flutter across it in a chaotic exchange of strikes. Each one steadily becomes closer to connecting, yet the hand is always there to push the fist back and start the exchange all over again.

  The actions of the pair become a blur.

  If someone were to pass by, they would assume they were witnessing a duststorm on the verge of transforming into a tornado.

  A shoe and a wooden leg both twist inside the storm as a pair of eyes meet.

  A weak, pale arm that has gained a newfound strength passes by a muscular, scarred old one that intended to catch it.

  Time seems to slow as the fist makes contact, knocking the bandana loose from Nadeden's head.

  The impact isn’t massive, but it’s more than enough to knock her back.

  The fist hangs in the air, unsure what to do next.

  Smith unfolds it and puts it at their side as they rush to Nadeden.

  “Are you alright?” They ask in both regret and sympathy.

  Nadeden nods, her scorched eyelid exposing itself to the slivers of sunlight as she looks up and locks eyes with Smith.

  “That was fun.” She states with a wide-toothed grin before draping her bandana back over her eye and fastening it.

  Smith grins back at her.

  Nadeden cracks her back and dusts herself off. “I’d say that you’re ready for any pirates or bandits that come your way.”

  Smith chuckles, brushing off the remark, “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. I only landed one hit after all.”

  Nadeden holds six fingers out to Smith, “That’s how many times you would have hit me if I didn’t counter. Don’t sell yourself short, kid. You may be new to this, but not everyone you fight is going to be the Scorched Archer. Let’s head back now. We’ve been at it for a while, and I’m getting hungry.” She drops her fingers and heads back to the village.

  Smith follows her with a smile, “Isn’t it weird to refer to yourself in third person? And don’t call me kid, old lady!”

  “Old lady!” Nadeden feigns offense. “I’ll have you know that wisdom comes with not only age but experience, young robot!”

  Smith speeds up to walk at Nadeden’s side, “You may have been through more than I have, but I have one thing you don’t!”

  “And what’s that?”

  Smith wiggles their fingers as they hop in front of Nadeden, “Magic powers.”

  Nadeden bursts into laughter, “Yeah, powers that you only got to work once!”

  Smith skips forward, bouncing on the grass with every step, “Hey, just wait until I get my body back, I’ll be able to summon metal on command then! I’ll make enough to fill that entire village!”

  Nadeden smiles, “I can’t wait to see it.”

  Smith slows their pace, “You won’t be there for it though.”

  Nadeden stops as Smith continues forward, explaining, “The Forge is past the human galaxies; it’s easier for Granix to drop you off to kill Gelmidas than it is for us both to go to the Forge and circle back. Besides, even if I can understand it, I still don’t want anything to do with your revenge.”

  “You nearly forgot, didn’t you?” Gelmidas’s voice rings in Nadeden’s mind, “You almost forgot what you have to do. Or…”

  Her imagination trails off as if the hallucinated Gelmidas has to look at Smith walking toward the village before asking, “Have you found something else to care about?”