When winter came, his father’s old adventuring partner Darius came to visit. Chris excitedly hugged this mountain of a man, and thanked him for coming over. Gerald decided that Chris needed to learn how to protect himself in case monsters attacked the fields, or attacked while he was traveling between villages, so they brought Darius in for the winter for the sake of training Chris with a sword.

Darius was a large man with black hair, red-brown eyes, and some very rough looking scars on his body. “Are you okay mister, you look hurt?” Chris asked with a worried expression. “No worries boy, these scars are proof I’m still kickin’.” Darius and Geralt chuckled a little. For someone who has seen battle and made it out in one piece, his voice was quite friendly.

Darius went to a larger city about a week's trip away when he and Geralt were still teenagers to become an adventurer. And Darius succeeded until he grew a bit older. Less people trusted him to succeed in hunting monsters and such.

“So you're the young sprout I’m going to be training with then? It’s a good thing I brought you something.” Chris ran over, “You got me something really?” He beamed a huge smile to the man. “You betcha, take this.” Darius handed Chris a well crafted wooden sword perfect for his size.

Darius bent down to Chris, “When you hold a sword you need to have a reason. You don’t do it on a whim. I want you to promise me that when you wield a sword, whether it's now or in the future, you keep that in mind. The reason could be to protect a girl that’s cute for all I care, just promise it's a good one.”

The man stared deep into Chris' eyes. Chris stared back blankly, “Is that how you got all those scars? Protecting cute girls?” Darius roared with laughter and drug Chris outside into the nippy wind. Field season was over thank goodness.

“There are two ways to practice swordsmanship. One way is to practice swinging in certain techniques for hours, over and over and over again. The boring way. The other way is to get experience, which is the fun way. Now which way do you wanna do it?” Chris bounced up and down with glee, “I wanna do it the fun way, pretty please!”

“Alright boy, hold your sword with both hands, when you swing a sword you want to hit with either the pointy tip, or the sharp edge. When you slash, you use the edge, and when you thrust, that's when the tip is important. For now I want you to come at me as hard as you can and try to hit me with your sword,” Darius grinned as he held up his sword. “Are you sure I can go as hard as I want?” “I’m a seasoned adventurer, no problems.”

Chris prepared himself, since he was going to be going against someone, he wanted to do it right. A surge of mana filled his body, to the point it was almost overflowing. He dashed towards Darius faster than he had ran in his entire life, his feet barely being able to keep up with himself, and right as he was about to swing, he lost his balance and face planted into the dirt and grass. “Dang it, I fell over!” Chris jumped up, and eagerly ran back over to the starting point.

The initial shock hadn't faded as Darius silently readied himself. ‘That was ridiculous. I know I was too relaxed, but even then, there was no way I was gonna be able to react to that.’

“Are you ready, I’m gonna try again!” Chris smiled and then ran at him. He pressed off of each foot with the force of an Orcish Boar, and when he swung at Darius he felt a jolt, vibrating all the way up his arms as he continued to run past. When Chris looked down at his sword, his jaw dropped. The entire “blade” had broken off.

“Well boy, you gonna tell me where you’re getting that power from, I mean look at ya, you’re basically skin and bone.” Darius' laugh boomed, but then he grew serious, glaring Chris down.

“I read in a book about a way to make yourself stronger and I’ve been practicing for the past few months. Sorry, did I do something wrong?” Darius smiled again, “No boy, that’s great, now I don’t have to go easy on ya!” And from then on, for three hours every single day for four months straight, Darius and Christof trained.

By the end of the winter Chris had hit Darius a total of seven times. To Chris this seemed like a bit of a let down, since he had so many bouts with Darius, but to Darius it was incredulous. Darius didn’t swing with all his might, just enough to push Chris back, but he moved and dodged at maximum effort. By the end of it Chris could probably beat someone five years older than him without issue. Darius didn’t let Chris' family know that much though.

“Chris, this winter was really fun, and if nothing crazy happens I’ll come back next winter too. For now I need to head back and visit my family, and get back to work. Before I go though, I got you something,” Darius pulled out a sheathed blade. It was a proper sword, something that an adult adventurer swings around, and he decided that Chris was ready for it.

“I can have this? Are you sure?” Chris was beaming, but his mother’s brow furrowed, fidgeting with the sleeve of her blouse. “Isn’t that sword just a bit too big for him?” Darius turned serious, “Chris is definitely ready for a sword of this size.” He had no hesitation in his voice.

“Now Chris, I want you to do the boring training while I’m gone alright, get used to that sword, and when I visit again I’ll make sure to let you test it out properly.” Darius left through the front door, Geralt got up and followed him. “Mom, look what I got! Look at how pretty it is!” Chris ran outside too, finding his father standing alone. Darius had left quickly apparently. Chris helped his father back inside, ate breakfast, then got back to training.

He swung the sword over and over again, day in and out, and he was getting pretty good with it. It took him a while to adjust to the reach, but other than that, he was easily able to wield it. He managed to keep his enchant going non-stop for a week straight without problems, then two weeks, then an entire month.

When he started work on the fields again he found he was even better than he was before. He finished his days in the field faster, and had more time to train with his sword. His days were monotonous, but productive and happy. He was able to help his mom cook more often, and his dad seemed proud. This all made Chris even happier, motivating him to keep working hard.

Everything was going well until a harvest day in the middle of summer. He had just finished collecting a plot worth of wheat, when he heard screaming from deeper in the village. He dashed over, sword on his hip, when he saw the beast.

It was large enough to feed half his village, had long tusks, a thick, furry hide, and intelligent, black eyes. It was an Orcish Boar. The creature was harassing a small boy who looked to be around Chris' age. ‘Isn’t that Haven!’ He was curled up into a ball and bleeding from a few small gashes. “You leave him alone!” Chris screamed as he sprinted towards the beast.

The boar turned towards Chris and charged in kind. Chris sidestepped quickly, just barely dodging the boar. Chris was angry, pissed even, for the first time in his life, and dashed at the beast. It quickly turned and continued its charge. Chris leaped into the air, hurling the sword down towards the beast’s back. As his sword slammed against the boar, its thick hide deflected the blow, leaving only a small trail of blood. As he attempted to land, the boar let out a shrill squeal, busting Chris eardrums. His ears rang, throwing him off balance as he stumbled, falling to the ground. The boar took advantage and thrusted its tusk, goring Chris' side. The feeling of blood and heat pouring out of the wound was enough to make Chris release a bloodcurdling scream.

Suddenly a few adults from the village realized what was going on and ran outside. Instead of helping Chris they began to panic as no normal person could kill an Orcish Boar. They ran towards his parents house to warn them what was happening.

Haven finally got up, and yelled at the boar. Grunting, it yanked out its tusk, letting Chris’ blood spill out, pooling slowly on the ground. It darted towards Haven at full speed. The feeling of pain was washed out by the adrenaline. Instead of the original mild harassment, Haven was on the receiving end of a full angry boar charge, and it was Chris' fault. He couldn’t stop it, provoked it, and now someone else was in danger.

His mind was racing, and he sprinted towards the boar. ‘Go for the soft belly,’ his father’s words echoed through his head. Chris dashed low and hard, and thrust his sword into the side of the boar, knocking it over, and embedded his sword from tip to hilt into its flesh. Blood gushed onto Chris’ hands, loosening his grip, and Chris' consciousness began to fade fast. The boar was still struggling and squealing. He ripped the sword across, gutting it, right before his vision went black.