Beyond Realities

It's been a month.

A full month of non-stop, intense, bone-breaking, sweat-dripping training.

I rarely stepped outside. I skipped every quest the Spade team went on. I shut myself in and trained like my life depended on it—because honestly, it did.

Day by day, I grew stronger. My pickaxe, once my loyal partner in mining and mockery, slowly evolved. The rope I used for swinging turned into chain links. And then… the pickaxe? Well… it became a scythe.

Yeah, I know what you're thinking. Who the hell turns a pickaxe into a scythe?

Me. That's who.

I convinced the swordcraft master—barely. He stared at me like I'd gone insane. But I persuaded him with enough talking, coin, and maybe a little desperate enthusiasm. In the end, he reforged my old pickaxe into something new. My scythe.

Honestly? It was dumb. But it worked.

And now? A month later?

I'm stronger. Way stronger.

I fought shadow dummies Grim conjured. I pushed my body to the limit—until I could barely stand. But I didn't stop.

Now my arms feel stiff and powerful. My body's bigger, firmer. And dare I say it… hotter? More handsome? Hehe.

Even my hair grew long. I haven't cut it yet. It kind of looks cool now, falling a bit over my eyes. Mysterious. Wild. Heroic. You know, all the dramatic stuff.

"I think you're ready," Grim finally said one evening, watching me finish a final set of training swings. "You can finally join your Spade team again—this time, without being the weak one."

I grinned, wiping sweat off my forehead.

"Yeah," I nodded. "I'm not the same Vael I was before. I'm ready."

And for the first time in weeks, I stepped outside.

The fresh air hit different. The sunlight felt warmer, not hostile. The world was moving again… and this time, I was ready to move with it.

As I walked through the city, I spotted someone familiar.

"Lance?" I blinked.

Lance Caelum, our hyperactive, loud-mouthed friend, was strolling around with a skip in his step. He stopped and squinted at me.

"Wait… Vael? Is that you?" he asked, approaching like he wasn't sure if I was a dream.

"You look like—woah—what happened to you? You've got muscles. Did someone cast a growth spell on you?! You barely even leave your house. Everyone thought you got cursed or… I dunno, turned into a potato or something!"

I laughed.

"Nice to see you again too," I said with a grin. "Yeah, I guess that was true. I was cursed… but I got healed."

Lance stared at me a little longer, eyes wide.

"You look... strong, man. Are you really the same Vael I knew? The one who used to chase Mana gems while we were fighting monsters?"

"Haha. You bet I am."

I smiled, proud—but calm. Because for the first time ever…

I wasn't just pretending to be confident.

I was confident.

After catching up with Lance, we headed to the Awakener Quest House. The place was buzzing with adventurers, swords clashing in practice, quests being shouted across the room, and posters flying off the walls like coupons on a festival day.

And there they were.

The Spade Team.

My team.

I saw their faces the moment I walked in. All of them looked up—Alcred, serious as always, eyes narrowing behind his dark fringe. Lance, still beside me, dramatically threw his arm up like I was a returning war hero. And then...

Seraphina.

Ah. There she was.

Beautiful as ever. Red hair glowing under the crystal lamps, her presence calm, yet fiery. My heart might've skipped a few beats—or maybe it tripped and fell on its face. I missed her. A lot.

Then I looked to my little brother, Simon. He didn't look shocked.

Not even a flinch.

Just a slight nod.

Yeah, he's seen me train almost every day for the past month, probably peeking out of windows like a bored hawk. He already knew I wasn't weak anymore. But still… come on, a little applause would've been nice.

"Tch. Still not impressed, huh?" I mumbled to myself with a smirk.

But I didn't care. Not really.

Because today… I was different. I wasn't the weak one anymore.

I walked past them confidently—yes, with that little hero walk—and stood in front of the quest board like I owned the place.

One poster caught my eye.

Urgent: Goblin King spotted in Grubbleville. High threat. Reward: 10,000 gold. Immediate Response Required.

Ohoho. This sounded fun.

I turned back to the team and said, "Looks like we're heading to Grubbleville."

Alcred crossed his arms. "You sure you're ready for that?"

I smirked, flexing just slightly. "I didn't train for a whole month just to dig up mana gems again."

Seraphina blinked at me—she was surprised. Not just because of the change in my strength, but maybe… just maybe... she saw something different in my eyes.

Yeah.

Today, we're not just doing a quest.

Today, I finally fight beside them—no more dead weight.

We arrived at Grubbleville.

The place reeked of rot and moss, the skies were covered in grey, and the trees surrounding the goblin stronghold were bare and lifeless. A fortress built into the cliffside loomed ahead — Grubbleville, the den of goblins, hobgoblins, goblin archers, and shamans. But the worst among them? The Goblin Champion and their king.

The Spade Team stood ready. Lance was his usual hyperactive self, spinning his sword playfully, while Alcred looked ahead with stoic determination. Simon, my ever-serious brother, kept checking the perimeter with precision. Seraphina… she looked radiant as always, her hands glowing faintly, already drawing ambient light into her spellform.

"Alright, team," Alcred called out. "This place is massive, but our goal is clear. We split into two units. Simon, Seraphina, and I will head toward the Goblin King's throne chamber. Vael, Lance — you handle the front courtyard with the Champion."

"Wait, me and Vael?!" Lance whined. "No offense, buddy, but—"

"I'm stronger now," I said, gripping my scythe tightly, letting the chain coil along my arm. "Let's go."

The courtyard of the goblin fortress was crawling with enemies. Arrows rained from every angle, goblin shamans chanted curses, and hobgoblins charged with thick clubs. I spun my scythe, cutting down enemies left and right, dodging and weaving through their attacks.

"Use the momentum, Vael! Chain the flow!" Grim's voice echoed in my head. "This isn't about strength. It's rhythm! Dance with the scythe!"

I grit my teeth. "Do I look like a dancer to you?!"

"Well, your footwork's horrible. So, no."

With a frustrated yell, I channeled my fury into a spiral slash. The scythe's chain wrapped around a hobgoblin's neck and flung him across the field. Lance followed behind, slicing anything that moved.

Then, the ground quaked.

A giant figure emerged — twice the height of a normal goblin, its muscles bulging, its skin marked with strange red runes. The Goblin Champion.

He roared, causing weaker goblins to flee, then charged toward me.

"Oh sh*t," I muttered, raising my weapon. "Grim! This one's too big!"

"Hold your ground! The bigger they are, the better you can use their weight against them. Wrap the chain around his arm! Redirect his strike!"

I obeyed. As the Champion swung his spiked club, I ducked, twisted, and wrapped the chain of my scythe around his weapon. Using my body as an anchor, I jerked the weapon off course.

But he was too strong. The force flung me into a wall.

"Oww… I think I cracked my noble dignity…" I groaned.

"Get up, Vael. You're stronger than this. You've trained for this. Don't waste my wisdom."

I pushed off the wall and ran forward again. This time, I let the chain flow smoothly. I dodged, pivoted, used my environment. The Champion grew furious, each missed attack making him more reckless.

Then I saw my chance.

With a powerful pull, I looped the chain around his legs, tripping him. As he fell, I lunged and drove the curved blade of the scythe straight into his chest. With a final roar, the Champion collapsed.

I panted, sweating, bloodied, but smiling.

"That's one for the pickaxe," I said, wiping my brow.

And this was only the beginning.

The throne room of the Goblin King loomed ahead like a fortress of nightmares—giant stone walls carved with crude war marks, torches casting dancing shadows across aged bloodstains, and a stench so thick it burned the nose.

And there he was.

The Goblin King.

He stood at the far end of the hall, monstrous and hulking, a grotesque amalgamation of muscle, tusks, and scars. His golden bone-plated armor gleamed under the flickering firelight, and his awakened aura surged violently, enough to make the air itself tremble. Behind him, the remnants of his throne glowed faintly with the dark energy of dominance.

"Be on guard!" Simon called out. "He's stronger than any we've faced!"

Lance spun his daggers, eyes locked. "That ugly mug screams final boss."

Seraphina floated slightly, her aura divine and sharp. "He's awakened. I can feel the pressure..."

I gritted my teeth, gripping my scythe with both hands. Grim's voice echoed calmly inside my head.

"Hes just an awakened monster who clawed his way to power. But that makes him unpredictable. Fight with everything you've got."

"Got it," I muttered.

The King roared.

His voice shook the ground. With terrifying speed, he lunged forward, his jagged greatsword crashing down like a meteor. We scattered.

CLANG!

Alcred blocked the hit, but the force sent him flying across the room.

"Alcred!" Seraphina cried out, blasting a barrier to protect him from colliding with the wall.

I charged in, spinning my scythe from the side, chains rattling. The King sensed it and backhanded me with his gauntlet. Pain shot across my jaw, but I rolled and recovered quickly.

Lance and Simon flanked him from opposite sides, slicing in a dance of precision. Sparks flew as their blades met the King's armor. He retaliated, sweeping his sword in a wild arc.

We ducked, barely.

Seraphina soared above him, raining bolts of light. The King growled and hurled a massive spear of mana at her. It nicked her shoulder, but she winced and retaliated with a burst of divine light.

"He's regenerating!" Simon warned.

True enough—wounds we made began to close.

Grim's voice buzzed in my skull.

"Vael! Attack from underneath—his armor's weakest under the ribs!"

I nodded. "On it!"

I bolted in low, sliding beneath the King's swing. With all my might, I drove the scythe's hooked edge into the soft point beneath his ribcage. The King howled in pain, swinging wildly. I held tight.

"Pull, Vael!" Grim shouted.

I yanked the chain and ripped the scythe free, spilling green-black blood. Simon rushed in, stabbing the wound deeper with his short sword.

Still—the King endured.

Lance climbed the walls like a spider, then leapt from above, daggers first, plunging into the Goblin King's back. The beast roared, thrashing and spinning, flinging Lance across the chamber.

Seraphina now began chanting.

"Cover her! She's preparing a seal!" I yelled.

The King swung his blade at her.

I intercepted.

Steel clashed. My arms screamed from the force. I planted my foot and roared back. The pressure from our blades sent cracks across the floor.

"You... won't... touch her!"

Behind me, Seraphina completed her chant.

"Celestial Lock!"

Blinding chains of light erupted and bound the Goblin King—arms, legs, neck. He thrashed, but the divine magic held.

"NOW!" she shouted.

Alcred, recovered, surged with aura, his blade glowing crimson.

He plunged it into the Goblin King's heart.

The beast screamed, and for the first time—the room fell silent.

He staggered, fell to his knees, then collapsed, face down.

Dead.

We stood there, gasping, bleeding, bruised... but victorious.

Lance lay on his back, laughing. "Tell me we never do that again."

Simon leaned on his sword. "No promises."

Seraphina approached me, smiling. "You're strong now, Vael. We wouldn't have made it without you."

I smirked, panting. "Maybe next time, I'll fight with my eyes closed."

Grim chuckled in my mind.

"That was... satisfactory. But you're still far from ready. Keep training, landlord."

I sighed, wiping blood from my lip.

"Heh... Guess this is only the beginning."

The clash was over. The Goblin King's massive body lay slumped on his crumbling throne, black blood staining the stone beneath us. My arms were sore. My shirt, torn at the sleeves, stuck to my back with sweat. Grim's chain-scythe hung heavily at my side, dripping with the remnants of the battle.

I thought I'd feel invincible.

We returned to Archeon victorious—wounded, exhausted, but alive. The Spade Team was loud and celebratory. Lance was already spinning tales about our fight, exaggerating how he single-handedly kicked a goblin across the battlefield (he didn't), and Alcred argued dramatically about how his sword was now too dull because of "slaying too many ugly goblins."

I... just smiled.

Because in that moment, I was thinking of her.

Seraphina.

I walked behind them as we reached the city gate—just a few steps away from home. I was daydreaming of greeting her. Telling her we won. Maybe... hearing her say she was proud of me. That maybe, just maybe, she saw how far I'd come.

But then—

I saw her.

Just outside the Archeon gate, standing by the fountain where the early rays of sunset painted everything gold. Her long crimson hair flowed like fire in the light, and she smiled.

But not at me.

She smiled at him.

A tall man, with short black hair and regal armor marked with golden lines. He wasn't just anyone.

He was Lucien Dawncrest, a royal from a nearby allied house. A commander. An awakened.

And she... she ran toward him.

I stopped walking.

She threw her arms around him. He lifted her up slightly as they hugged, close—too close. She laughed—her laugh, the one I used to hear when we were at campfires. When I'd throw pebbles into Lance's food and she'd pretend not to notice.

And then she placed her head gently on his shoulder.

I didn't know what I felt. The sound of people disappeared. The ache in my muscles faded. I couldn't move.

My heart didn't just sink.

It shattered like glass beneath a pickaxe.

"Oof. That one's gonna leave a mark."

"Shut up."

"You alright there, Romeo? That's the part where you charge in, confess your love, cry a little, and then get rejected anyway. Very poetic."

I turned away from the scene.

Lance suddenly appeared beside me, slurping fruit juice from a straw like he hadn't just fought a war.

"Oy, Vael... Was that Seraphina? Who's the dude? Your cousin?" Lance said.

pause

"Wait... Wait a minute. Is she—OH MY GOD, she's dating a commander?! You just got ranked bro!"

I wanted to evaporate.

Grumbling

"Can you shut your damn mouth for once?"

"No can do. I have a moral obligation to mock you for this." Lance respond.

Grim laughing

"Heartbreak is the first step toward true power. Or a spiral into total madness. Either way, I'm in for the ride."

I clenched my fists.

I didn't cry.

I didn't throw a tantrum. I just... breathed.

I looked up at the Archeon sky, tinged in hues of dusk, and whispered to myself.

"This pain… I'll use it."

Grim fell silent for a moment.

Then he said in a rare soft tone:

"Good. That's the kind of fire I've been waiting to see."

And just like that, I walked away from the gate—not broken, but burning with something new.

A promise.

I'll become someone she can't ignore.

I'll become someone that even fate won't dare to look down on.

I walked away from the gate, my steps heavy, like my boots were weighed down by the pieces of my broken heart.

My grip on the chain-scythe tightened. I didn't even know why I was holding it. Maybe because it was the only thing in my life that didn't betray me. It didn't smile at someone else. It didn't hug anyone. It just stayed... sharp.

I turned toward the training grounds.

Not home. Not the palace. Not even Grim was speaking right now.

I was halfway across the city when—

"So... heartbreak, huh?"

I sighed, deep and tired.

"Grim, I swear to the gods—"

"Okay, okay! I'm just saying. That hurt. That really hurt. If I had a heart, I think it would've cracked a little."

"I don't need this right now."

"What you need is a punching bag, a gallon of potion, and probably a therapist. But since I'm here instead—welcome to the emotional aftermath of rejection. You're now entering the brooding warrior arc." Mocking serious.

I reached the training field. It was empty, perfect. The torches weren't even lit yet. I stood at the center, staring at the dummy made of hardened wood.

In my head, I saw his face.

Lucien Dawncrest.

The way Seraphina smiled at him. The warmth in her eyes—the smile that used to be mine.

I charged.

Pick-scythe in hand, I slashed the training dummy with everything I had. Over and over. Every swing was filled with silent pain. Every breath, heavy with something unspoken. My body burned. My hands bled from gripping the chain too hard. The scythe sparked as it scraped against stone.

Grim softly now,

"You done pretending it doesn't hurt?"

I stood still, chest rising and falling, sweat dripping from my chin.

"I don't want it to hurt," I said.

"But it does."

I collapsed to my knees, head bowed, not crying—just breathing. Letting it all settle.

"You know… sometimes pain is a gift. It reminds you that you still have something to fight for."

"What do I even have?"

"Yourself. That's enough. And if it's not—then we train until it is."

A long silence followed.

Then—

"Train me. Tonight. No sleep. No breaks. I want to burn this pain into my muscles."

Grim grinning,

"That's more like it."

---

Later that Night...

I trained alone beneath the moonlight. Grim materialized only in shadow, guiding my footwork, correcting my swings, and whispering spells of focus into my mind.

He didn't mock me now.

He trained me like someone preparing for war.

Because he knew what I knew.

I wasn't just trying to get over her.

I was trying to become someone untouchable.

Someone... undeniable.

---

Meanwhile…

Back at the palace, Seraphina sat alone by the window. Her hand touched the glass as she stared toward the empty courtyard, frowning.

She didn't know why—but something in her chest ached.

And she whispered, "Vael…"