THE AETHERBORN

"Well, well. Maybe you are not a lost cause after all."

Thorne turned to see Sid standing there, his thin, weasel-like face twisted into a predatory grin. His yellowed, rotting teeth glinted in the dim morning light, even from a distance, Thorne could smell the stench of alcohol wafting from him. The man was bristling with daggers, each blade glinting menacingly like the eyes of a hungry wolf.

“Sid,” Thorne said, his voice steadier than he felt. His heart hammered in his chest, the events of the morning still fresh in his mind. He spotted patches of dried blood on Sid's filthy clothes, wondering uneasily whose blood it might be and what the rogue had been up to earlier.

Sid swaggered closer, his gaze never leaving Thorne. "You surprised me, boy," he drawled, his voice dripping with mockery. "I thought you were just a weakling, faking your way through training. But now I see you’ve got some fight in you. Maybe you're not such a waste of space after all."

Thorne swallowed hard, recalling the brutal first training session. He had purposefully held back, terrified that revealing his true strength and speed would expose him for what he really was—an elder race child hiding in plain sight. Sid had mocked him relentlessly that day, each cruel jibe cutting deeper than the blades he wielded. Thorne had felt smaller than ever under Sid’s scrutiny, like a mouse trying to evade the claws of a particularly vicious cat.

Sid’s grin widened, his bloodshot eyes narrowing as he leaned in close, his breath hot and sour against Thorne’s face. “Meet me at the meat district at sundown,” he hissed, his voice low and menacing. “This time, our training will be different.”

Thorne nodded, his throat too tight to speak. Sid straightened up, his gaze still fixed on Thorne as if trying to peel back his skin and see the secrets hidden beneath. He gave Thorne one last, appraising look before turning sharply on his heel and striding away, his tattered cloak billowing behind him like a shadow.

As Sid disappeared into the bustling crowd, Thorne felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Ben, his round face pale with worry. Ben’s wide eyes darted between Sid’s retreating figure and Thorne, his expression silently asking, Are you really going to meet him?

Thorne forced a small, reassuring smile. “I have to, Ben,” he said quietly, his voice trembling despite his best efforts. “If I don’t, he’ll just keep tormenting me. I need to learn how to defend myself.”

Ben nodded reluctantly, his gaze full of concern as he bit his lip. Thorne could see the fear in his eyes—the same fear that had kept Ben from ever joining in Jonah’s cruel games. But even so, he remained by Jonah’s side, too afraid to stand against him, and too afraid to leave.

“Thanks, Ben,” Thorne said softly, appreciating the unspoken support. Ben gave him a hesitant nod before turning and hurrying away, glancing back over his shoulder one last time before disappearing into the crowd.

Thorne spent the rest of the day with a growing sense of dread gnawing at his insides like a hungry rat. What did Sid have planned for him? Why the change in training? He tried to shake off the fear, but it clung to him like a second skin. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the city, Thorne made his way to the meat district, his mind racing with a thousand dark thoughts.

The meat district was a grim, squalid place, filled with the sounds of knives hacking through flesh and the constant buzz of flies hovering around the carcasses. The stench of blood and death hung thick in the air, mingling with the salty tang of the sea. Thorne navigated the narrow, winding alleys, his heart pounding in his ears. Small rivers of blood snaked between the cobblestones, staining his boots as he made his way through the grisly scene.

He found Sid waiting near a row of hanging carcasses, his grin wider and more sinister than ever. “Good, you’re here,” he said, his eyes gleaming with something like excitement. Or maybe it was just madness. “Tonight, we start real training. No more holding back. Show me what you’ve got, Thorne.”

Thorne took a deep breath and nodded, steeling himself for whatever was to come. He knew he had to be careful—had to find a way to balance showing enough of his abilities to satisfy Sid without revealing too much. If Sid suspected even for a moment that Thorne was more than just an unusually agile street rat, things could get very dangerous, very quickly.

Sid tossed a crude dagger to Thorne, who caught it deftly, his fingers closing around the hilt. “Let’s see if you can use that thing properly,” Sid sneered, drawing a pair of his own wickedly sharp daggers. “This is no game, boy. Fail to impress me, and you’ll regret it.”

Thorne tightened his grip on the dagger and faced Sid, his mind focused and ready. He knew this night could be a turning point—if he managed to impress Sid, his life would become easier. If not...

Sid’s grin turned feral. “Here’s the game, boy,” he said, his voice dripping with malice. “Your objective is to reach the warehouse at the docks. But it’s not going to be a simple stroll. I’ll be tracking you, hunting you. If I catch you, I attack, and you defend yourself. Use your speed, your stealth skills, everything you’ve got.”

Thorne’s stomach churned with fear, but he forced himself to nod. He tightened his grip on the dagger, the cold metal biting into his palm, and took off into the maze of alleys, his heart pounding in his chest like a drum.

Sid’s voice echoed behind him, cruel and mocking. “Run, boy! The hunt begins now!”

Thorne's heart pounded as he darted through the twisting alleys, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He had to stay ahead, had to outmaneuver Sid, whose footsteps echoed ominously behind him like the footsteps of Death itself. He slid into the shadows, his small frame allowing him to slip through gaps and crevices that Sid, with his larger build, would struggle to navigate.

Every so often, he heard Sid’s mocking voice echoing through the narrow streets or caught a glint of a dagger in the dim light. Thorne's mind raced, his instincts sharpened by his life on the streets. He climbed onto low rooftops, his hands clutching the rough edges as he pulled himself up, using clotheslines to swing across alleys, and squeezing through tight spaces where Sid would be forced to detour. But no matter how fast he ran or how clever his escapes, Sid was relentless, closing the gap with terrifying speed and precision.

After what felt like hours of frantic running, Thorne paused behind a stack of barrels, his chest heaving. His body ached, bruised and battered from the earlier encounters. He pressed his back against the damp wood, straining his ears for any sign of Sid. The alley was eerily silent, save for the distant murmurs of the city and the occasional drip of water from the rooftops. Thorne forced himself to breathe quietly, his eyes scanning the shadows for any movement.

And then he saw it—a flicker in the corner of his vision. His blood ran cold. Before he could react, Sid’s hand shot out of the darkness, grabbing him by the collar and yanking him out of his hiding spot. Thorne’s heart leapt into his throat as he found himself face-to-face with the sadistic grin of his trainer.

"Found you, boy," Sid hissed, his eyes glinting with cruel delight. He swung a dagger at Thorne, who barely managed to twist out of the way. The blade grazed his arm, leaving a shallow cut that sent a sharp, burning pain shooting up his arm.

Panic surged through Thorne, but he fought to keep his mind clear. He had to escape. Sid’s attacks were brutal and swift, each one aimed to maim or kill. Thorne ducked and dodged, his small size and agility barely keeping him one step ahead of the deadly blades. His heart raced, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

Sid’s eyes sparkled with a sick pleasure as he slashed and stabbed, forcing Thorne further into a corner. “Run, boy! Run while you still can!” he taunted, his voice dripping with mockery.

Desperation fueled Thorne’s movements. He snatched up a loose brick from the ground and hurled it at Sid with all his strength. The brick sailed past Sid’s head, missing him by a hair, but the distraction bought Thorne a precious second to dash down another alley. His lungs burned, and his legs felt like lead, but he couldn’t stop now.

Sid’s dark laughter echoed behind him. “You’re only making this more fun for me, boy!” he called out, his voice sending shivers down Thorne’s spine.

Thorne turned a corner sharply, only to find himself at a dead end. His heart plummeted as he realized he was trapped. Sid approached slowly, savoring the moment, his dagger glinting menacingly in the dim light. Thorne glanced around frantically, searching for anything he could use to escape.

His eyes landed on a thick rope hanging above him, supporting a massive pig carcass suspended over the alley. An idea, born of sheer desperation, flashed through his mind. He scrambled up a nearby stack of crates, reaching for the rope with trembling hands.

Sid lunged just as Thorne managed to cut the rope. The heavy carcass came crashing down, catching Sid off guard. The impact knocked Sid to the ground, the pig’s weight pinning him for a brief moment.

Thorne didn’t waste a second. He bolted, his heart hammering in his chest, his breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps. He could hear Sid cursing and struggling behind him, but he didn’t look back.

He ran through the alleys with newfound urgency, the docks and the safety of the warehouse his only goal. The streets blurred around him as he pushed his body to its limits, every muscle screaming in protest.

Sid, enraged by his blunder, howled behind him. No matter how fast Thorne ran, Sid found him several times. Each time, Thorne had to defend himself, blocking and parrying Sid's attacks. Sid was relentless, his strikes filled with a sadistic glee. Thorne could see the pleasure Sid took in the hunt, the way his eyes lit up every time he found him.

Thorne's small size and agility were his greatest assets. He used his speed to dodge Sid's attacks and his cunning to set small traps, like knocking over barrels to slow Sid down. Each encounter made Sid angrier, having long shed his mask of a trainer. Every stab, every slash was meant to kill, pushing Thorne to his limits.

As the night wore on, Thorne grew tired but refused to give up. He could see the docks in the distance, the warehouse just a few streets away. He took a deep breath and sprinted the final stretch, using every ounce of strength he had left.

Just as he reached the warehouse, Sid appeared in front of him, his dagger raised. Thorne's heart sank, but he didn't back down. He faced Sid, ready to defend himself one last time.

Sid lunged, and Thorne dodged, using the momentum to spin and strike Sid's arm, instead of the satisfying clutter of metal on the ground he felt stinging pain in his neck. A triumphant look on Sid’s face told him that the game was over.

For a moment, there was silence. Then Sid laughed, a low, rumbling sound that sent chills down Thorne's spine. "Well done, boy. Well done. You've impressed me tonight."

Thorne stepped back, getting away from Sid’s dagger. He was breathing hard, his body aching, but he felt a surge of satisfaction. He had survived Sid's sadistic training and earned a measure of respect from his ruthless trainer.

Sid sheathed his dagger. "You're not a lost cause after all, Thorne. We'll continue this training. Be ready for more."

Thorne nodded, exhausted. The man sauntered away, vanishing in the shadows instantly. Thorne strained his ears to find Sid’s footsteps but was met only by silence.

Thorne let his exhausted body relax and crumbled next to a crate. As soon as he sat down a big smile transformed his tired face. He finally pulled up the notifications that had being vying for his attention all night.

Congratulations! You Have Unlocked the Skill: Daggers!

Skill Level Up: Daggers!

Skill Level Up: Daggers!

Skill Level Up: Daggers!

Congratulations! You Have Unlocked the Skill: Acrobatics!

Skill Level Up: Acrobatics!

Skill Level Up: Thick Skin!

Skill Level Up: Thick Skin!

Skill Level Up: Running!

Despite the throbbing pain in his body, Thorne couldn’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment. He had survived Sid's brutal training and gained not just one, but two new skills. He flexed his fingers, still feeling the weight of the dagger and the sharpness of each precise movement. He’d gone from fumbling with the weapon to being able to defend himself, albeit barely. Sid’s cruel methods had forced him to adapt, to dig deep and push past his limits.

Thorne leaned back against the crate, replaying the night’s events in his mind. The brutal chase through the alleys, the desperate skirmishes with Sid, the way he had been forced to use every ounce of his strength, speed, and wit to survive. The night had been a whirlwind of fear and adrenaline, but it had also made him sharper, more aware of his capabilities.

His fingers brushed the shallow cut on his neck, the sting reminding him of how close he had come to failure. He hated the sadistic man, but there was no denying that Sid’s ruthless training had been effective. Thorne had never experienced such a drastic leap in his abilities before. It reminded him of that night in the elven forest when he had faced the wolf. The fear, the desperation, the feeling of being pushed to his absolute limits.

A word floated to the forefront of his mind, a word he had heard his mother speak with a mix of disdain and sadness—strife.

That word had been spoken with disdain and sadness by his mother. But as he sat there, his body battered but with new skills unlocked, Thorne began to understand something that had eluded him before. Growth came from overcoming challenges, from facing fear and pushing past it. Strife was painful, yes, but it was also a way to become stronger.

If he wanted to survive in this harsh world, he would have to embrace strife, make it his own.

He closed his eyes, letting the exhaustion wash over him, and whispered, “Bring it on.”