Life Beyond End

---

"Fareé."

"Fareé."

"Fareé."

Her name echoed in my mind like some kind of lovesick mantra. I tossed and turned all night, staring at the ceiling, hopelessly grinning like an idiot.

I mean, can you blame me? A girl that cute? If this world doesn't kill me first, I'm putting a ring on her finger someday.

---

The backyard I used to train in? Forget it. Today's training session was a whole different level. I wasn't messing around with solo practice anymore—I was sparring with my dad.

Now, let me tell you something about Sir Drendel Neworld. He's a beast. Broad shoulders, arms like tree trunks, and the kind of stare that could send a grown man running.

"Alright, Flynn," he said, smirking as he handed me a shortsword. "Today, we're gonna start with the basics of swordfighting. You ready, kiddo?"

I nodded, gripping the hilt. "Yeah, let's do this."

Dad planted his sword in the dirt and began explaining the fundamentals. "First, there are five main sword styles. Each one's unique, and you'll need to figure out what fits you best. Here's the rundown."

The Five Sword Styles:

1. Sabre Style

Think fencing—quick, precise, and built for dueling.

2. Longsword Style

Pure strength. You don't fight your opponent; you bulldoze them.

3. Double Sword Style

Fast, flashy, and perfect for someone who loves chaos.

4. Greatsword Style

Basically, channel your inner anime berserker. Big sword, big swings, big damage.

5. Shortsword Style

This one's all about technique and strategy. It's not about brute strength but fighting smart.

"Now," Dad continued, his voice taking on a serious edge, "within each of these styles, you've got five basic techniques."

The Five Techniques:

1. Blade Reinforcement

Strengthens your weapon for better durability and impact.

2. Speed Boost

Accelerates your movements for rapid attacks.

3. Strike and Take

Land a hit and absorb your opponent's Life Energy.

4. Fire Imbued

Channels fire magic into your strikes for extra heat.

5. Lightning Imbued

Infuses your blade with electricity for shocking results.

"That's the groundwork," Dad said, picking up his shortsword. "Now let's see what you've got. I'm starting you on the Shortsword Style. Pay attention."

"Yes, Father," I said, straightening up.

What followed was brutal. We drilled every basic strike, parry, and counter. Dad didn't hold back, either—he threw in kicks, sweeps, and elbows like we were in an MMA cage match.

And man, it was hard. Swordfighting in this world was nothing like the Historical European Martial Arts (HEMA) I did back in high school. This wasn't just swinging steel—it was a full-on mix of martial arts and blade work. My muscles screamed for mercy, but I wasn't about to quit.

---

It was time for the mock battle. My palms were sweaty, and my heart was pounding.

Let's be real—I was nervous as hell. Sure, I had some experience from my old life, but that was years ago. And Dad? He wasn't just some sparring partner. He was a seasoned warrior.

"Ready?" Dad asked, his grin widening as he got into his stance.

Not really. But I nodded anyway.

"Alright then. Three... two... one..."

"Go!"

Dad didn't waste a second. He charged straight at me like a freight train, his sword slicing through the air.

Holy crap, he's fast!

Instinct kicked in. I raised my blade just in time to block, the force of his strike sending vibrations up my arm. I stumbled back, trying to put some distance between us.

But Dad wasn't giving me any breathing room. He pressed forward, his attacks relentless. Our blades clashed, sparks flying with every hit. The sound of steel meeting steel was deafening, and my arms burned from the effort of keeping up.

I managed to duck under one of his swings and countered with a quick slash aimed at his side. He deflected it like it was nothing and retaliated with a spinning kick.

The kick caught me in the gut, knocking the wind out of me. I hit the ground hard, gasping for air.

For a split second, a memory from my old life flashed in my mind. My boss—his leather boot slamming into my ribs, the humiliation, the rage.

But this time?

I wasn't going down like that.

Dad came in for the finishing blow, his sword raised high. But I was ready.

I shifted my weight and kicked out, aiming for his left leg. My foot connected, and he stumbled, losing his balance.

I sprang to my feet, adrenaline pumping. Dad was down, but I knew better than to celebrate early.

Sure enough, he grabbed my wrist, his grip like a vice.

My vision sharpened, everything slowing down as my Quantum Precision activated. It was like time itself bent to my will. I could see the tendons in his wrist, the exact spot I needed to target.

I twisted my arm and struck a nerve in his hand, forcing him to let go.

Before he could recover, I grabbed my shortsword and moved in, locking him in a chokehold. My blade was at his throat, but I didn't press down. This was a mock battle, after all.

"Yield," I said, panting.

Dad chuckled, his voice filled with pride. "Woah. Flynn, you're good!"

I released him and stepped back, my chest heaving. "No, Dad. You're better. If that fight had gone any longer, I'd have been out of stamina."

"You paralyzed me for two seconds!" he said, flexing his hand to shake off the numbness.

"That was just my Quantum Precision," I said, trying to sound modest. But inside? Yeah, I felt like a total badass.

---

The applause caught me off guard.

I turned to see a crowd gathered around the training grounds—villagers, my mom, Andrea, even Daniel and Fareé.

Wait. Fareé's here?!

My heart did a weird flip. She was standing near the front, her orange hair glowing in the sunlight, her smile as bright as ever.

I waved at her, trying to play it cool. She waved back, and I swear I could've died happy right then and there.

Dad smirked, leaning in close. "Oooh, Flynn, you like Fareé?"

"Shut up, Dad," I muttered, my face turning red.

But he just laughed, ruffling my hair like I was still a little kid.

---

As we walked back home, I couldn't stop replaying the fight in my head. Every swing, every block, every move.

Today wasn't just about training. It was about proving something—to Dad, to the villagers, and maybe even to myself.

Yeah, I still had a long way to go. But for the first time in a long time, I felt like I was exactly where I needed to be.

And if Fareé's smile was anything to go by? She thought so too.