Three years had passed since Draven woke up in Valkaen, so he was now ten years old, and during that time he had learned something important.
Knowing the videogame did not mean knowing the world perfectly.
At first he had thought it did, but after three years living inside Valkaen, Draven had come to understand that there was an enormous difference between controlling a character on a screen and living in that place.
The world kept working when there were no quests.
People had conversations that had never appeared in the game, the towns had inhabitants Sam had never seen, important characters knew people who had never been mentioned.
And, most worrying of all, some events seemed to be unfolding differently.
"You’re distracted."
Draven lifted his head and a wooden sword stopped a few centimeters from his forehead.
Yruza was watching him.
She had grown quite a bit during those three years and, although she was still young, the way she moved already made it clear she was no ordinary girl.
Draven raised his own sword.
"I was thinking."
"That doesn’t help in the middle of a fight."
"Sometimes it does."
Yruza attacked while Draven blocked, but the impact forced him back two steps.
"Thinking too much only leaves you vulnerable."
Draven clenched his teeth.
"I already got it."
Yruza attacked again, so Draven reinforced his arms with mana and the wooden sword clashed against hers, but this time he managed to hold his ground.
Yruza immediately changed the angle and Draven tried to follow her, but he failed, so the tip of Yruza’s sword touched his abdomen.
"Dead."
Draven looked down and then lifted his eyes.
"That was fast."
"That’s how it is."
"You could give me a chance."
"No."
"Thanks."
Yruza stepped back a few paces.
"Again."
Draven sighed.
"Don’t you need to rest?"
"No, I’ve trained under worse conditions."
"I’m sorry about that, but I do need a break."
"Then learn to spend less mana."
Draven frowned, since that was precisely one of the reasons he trained with her.
His mana capacity had improved a lot, but not because his natural talent had changed, since his original reserve was still disappointing.
What had changed was everything else.
Over three years, Draven had strengthened different bonds, like with Kevar, with Kali, with Yruza, and especially with Zenash.
Every time an important relationship advanced far enough, his blessing reacted.
Sometimes it slightly increased his mana capacity and other times it improved his control.
On some occasions he noticed small changes in his physical endurance or in the ease of reinforcing parts of his body.
There was no completely clear pattern, but there was a rule.
Bonds strengthened him and, the more important the person seemed to be, the greater the benefits could be.
Draven still did not know exactly how the blessing decided what to improve.
He had tried to test it by talking to people in the village, helping neighbors, trying to make friends with other children, but the results were minimal.
Sometimes absolutely nothing happened.
That confirmed another suspicion: that it was not enough to simply know people, but that the relationship had to be real and that who the person was probably mattered as well.
’Sasri didn’t make it easy for me.’
The deity of fun had given him an ability that practically forced him to get involved with important characters.
He could not grow strong by hiding, nor could he simply train for twenty years out in the middle of a field.
If he wanted to take full advantage of the blessing, he would have to involve himself with people who were already connected to the future conflicts of Valkaen.
"Draven."
Yruza raised her sword again.
"I’m ready."
"You’re not."
"That was rude."
"It’s the truth."
Draven attacked first and Yruza blocked, so he changed direction, but the second attack was blocked.
On the third attack, Yruza stepped to the side, which was exactly what Draven expected, so he twisted the sword and used a small burst of mana in his legs.
He managed to reach her shoulder and the wood touched her clothes, so Draven smiled.
"I got you."
Yruza looked at the spot where she had been hit and then at him.
"Yes, you got me."
Draven lowered the sword.
"That sounded less impressive than I expected."
"You improved."
"Thanks."
"Before, you wouldn’t have been able to touch me."
Draven smiled a little more.
"That does sound better."
"But if this were a real fight, you would have already died three times before managing it."
The smile disappeared.
"You had to ruin it."
Yruza tilted her head slightly.
"I’m just telling the truth."
Draven left the sword beside a fence.
Those sessions had started almost by accident.
During one of Zenash’s visits, Draven had mentioned that he wanted to learn how to defend himself, so Zenash had immediately decided that Yruza could teach him.
Yruza had not shown much interest at first, but Zenash insisted, so the training began.
First it was stance, then balance, then movement, and it continued with basic strikes, defense, reinforcement through mana, nothing advanced.
Yruza refused to teach him dangerous techniques while he was still a child.
Draven accepted that, at least for now.
Besides, learning the fundamentals correctly was much better than trying to imitate videogame animations.
"Are you done?"
A voice came from near the house.
Draven looked that way and Zenash was walking toward them; she had also changed quite a bit over the last three years.
She still maintained that reserved and proud attitude in front of others, but with Draven it no longer worked the same way.
"Yes, my lady."
Yruza answered and Zenash looked at Draven.
"Did you win?"
Draven stayed silent and Yruza answered for him.
"Negative."
Zenash frowned slightly.
"Again?"
Draven looked at her.
"What did you expect?"
"That you improve."
"I have improved."
"Then win."
"Yruza is much better than me."
Zenash looked at her bodyguard.
"Then go easier."
Yruza answered with absolute calm.
"I can’t do that, my lady."
Zenash narrowed her eyes and Draven raised a hand.
"It’s fine."
He did not want them to start arguing over something like that.
Zenash approached; she was carrying a small box in her hands, so Draven saw it and then looked at her.
"No."
Zenash blinked.
"I didn’t say anything."
"You’re bringing another box, right?"
"That’s right."
"Then no."
Zenash held out the box.
"It’s for you."
"I already knew that."
"Open it."
Draven sighed.
"You don’t have to bring me something every time you come."
"I want to."
"The problem is that your gifts cost more than this house."
Zenash looked at the dwelling.
"I could buy you a better one."
Draven closed his eyes.
"That wasn’t an invitation."
Zenash placed the box in his hands.
"Open it."
Draven knew arguing would do no good, so he opened it and inside was a dark bracelet with several small symbols engraved on it.
Draven recognized it immediately.
’It can’t be.’
He lifted it carefully.
"Zenash."
"Yes?"
"Do you know what this is?"
"A bracelet."
Draven looked at her.
"Thanks."
Zenash smiled slightly.
"It’s a storage bracelet."
Draven already knew.
In the game, those items were expensive, very expensive, and allowed a certain amount of objects to be stored inside a magical space.
Most ordinary adventurers took years to get a decent one, and Zenash had just handed it to him as if it were a toy.
"This costs too much."
Draven said.
"It doesn’t matter."
"Yes it does."
"Not to me."
Draven looked at Yruza, who did not intervene.
’Of course.’
Draven looked at the bracelet again.
"Thanks, I guess..."
Zenash nodded, satisfied.
"You can store the other gifts in there."
Draven fell silent.
’That was the plan from the beginning.’
Over three years, Zenash had given him an absurd number of things.
Books, magical objects, an enchanted cloak, materials from Fernus, a small dagger that Kali had immediately confiscated.
She had even once tried to gift him a young Nhal steed, but Kevar had nearly fainted when he heard how much it cost to maintain, so Draven had finally managed to convince her it was not a good idea.
The problem was that Zenash did not seem to understand the concept of a modest gift.
"Draven."
"Yes?"
"Who was that girl?"
Draven blinked.
"What girl?"
"The one who was with you yesterday."
Draven thought.
"Mara?"
Zenash frowned, which was not a good sign.
"Is that her name?"
"Yes."
"Why was she with you?"
"Her father needed help with some boxes."
"And why was she with you?"
Draven looked at Zenash and Yruza looked away.
’This again.’
The jealousy had started about a year ago and at first it was small.
Zenash would ask who a certain person was, then why Draven was talking to her, then how long he had talked, and over time she had stopped trying to hide it.
"Because she lives here."
Draven answered, at which Zenash crossed her arms.
"She was smiling at you."
"People do that."
"It was a very sugary smile."
"She just told me a joke."
"What joke?"
Draven looked at her.
"Well... I don’t remember it well."
"Then it wasn’t funny."
"Maybe."
Zenash seemed satisfied with that answer and Draven sighed.
’Is it going to get worse when she grows up?’
He did not want to think about that too much.
Zenash had already decided that he would be her future husband and Draven still had not found a convincing way out of it without creating a diplomatic problem.
The worst part was that the blessing did not help.
His bond with Zenash was, by far, the strongest he had outside his family and that was reflected in his abilities.
Draven hated to admit it, but being engaged to her had turned out to be very useful.
’This sounds terrible.’
He decided to stop thinking about it.