Larna let out a sigh, as he walked home after school. Today's exams did not go pretty well, he probably got a low score if not suspended.

  School is a boring sidequest. He kicked a rock in the way. If it wasn't for it he could level-up faster.

  Luckily, it was almost over for him. His parents surely wouldn’t approve his choice of not applying for a university, but being a battler was the only way Larna could imagine himself.

  He entered his house and headed to his room.

  A handmade wooden bastard sword was hanging on the wall. Allen had asked the old man he worked for to carve it for Larna. It occupied a tiny spot in his bedroom, but it made it look completely different. It was proof that Larna’s life had changed.

  He straightened, raised the sword above his head and brought it down in a swing. Allen was absolutely right when suggesting him to change weapons. I was using the wrong build. His new weapon allowed him to react in every situation, and he could move better thanks to its lower weight and the absence of a shield.

  With a proud smile he continued swinging, doing his best to make that satisfactory sound the sword did when cutting the air.

  "I'm home! Larna, this is your signal to stop doing weird things!" the voice of Lia reached his room.

  “Uh?” Larna’s grip faltered and the sword slipped off his hands. His heartbeats were as fast as when he faced Rising Shadow. He stepped towards the door feeling he was doing the wrong thing and locked it.

  His family didn’t know anything about him being a battler. That gnawed on Larna. I’ll have to tell them someday. He couldn’t hide it forever. But it felt strangely awkward.

  He took a deep breath to refocus, and sat at the center of his room, his legs closed in a lotus position.

  The constant battles with Allen and Vale had helped him to progressively get accustomed to the pressure of a battle. Still those were fights without any risk, with persons he was on good terms with.

  Larna visualized himself standing in the center of a stadium like the one from the Ascension Event, surrounded by people that watched him attentively, and carrying his friend’s hopes on his shoulders.

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  His breathing grew sharper, his hands clenched into fists, and his forehead wrinkled. That made it clear.

  His predictions hadn't progressed much either. It's true that he has gotten better at predicting Allen and Vale's moves thanks to the constant training, but that was all. Indeed he was pretty stuck right now.

  The more he learned about battle, the harder predicting became as more little factors appeared. The last thing he noticed was that battlers like Allen adapted their emotions to the necessary characteristics of their styles, while people like Vale without a solid style were more temperamental.

  Larna’s eyes snapped open when an alarm rang in his bedroom. He turned it off on his phone, and fumbled for some clothes in his closet. After changing he exited his room. Time to level-up.

  ---

  Larna shuffled to his bedroom, his hands hanging limply at his sides. He almost dropped to his bed, as he used to do, but remembered his clothes and body were soaked in sweat. Instead he rested limbs spread on the floor.

  Today's training was a hell, and he could only blame himself for suggesting to bet in an attempt to put more pressure on the battles. They had settled for push-ups—that's why Larna's arms had turned into a hanging mass of bone and muscle.

  He stood there for a few minutes enjoying the peace of not doing nothing, before standing up and going for a shower.

  His body had grown more muscular and even a faint sixpack was starting to form in his abdomen. He leaned forward, looking at his face in a mirror. His acne has almost disappeared and his eyes looked sharper.

  After putting on comfortable clothes Larna stumbled on his bed. Despite the soreness on his body, a faint smile was permanent on his lips.

  The days he spent thirsty for anything that momentarily filled his emptiness, now seemed too far away.

  He still felt the itch to play on his computer sometimes. But the urge easily faded when he remembered the posterior dark sensation he always felt of having lost his time.

  I feel good. Nobody bullied him anymore, he had friends to laugh with, and he felt in a good mood almost all the time—except after the usual defeat while training. But even that would eventually change.

  I'm getting stronger

  …

  Larna 's eyes welled up with tears.

  He could finally say it. Instead of disappointing himself more with each day, he could finally feel proud of himself.

  He was going to become a battler, a professional one. He had it clear. That it was the path he wished to follow.

  His next objective was the Clan Battle, which was just two days away. He had been rigorously training for the last two weeks for it.

  Larna’s smile widened, and his chest burned pleasantly.

  "I can win."