A week had passed since the day I moved into Garen's house. Nothing particularly extraordinary had happened during that time. I'd settled in a bit, learned more about the world I now lived in… and discovered another passive ability within myself.
One morning, Garen and I decided to cross blades in the courtyard of his house — just for practice. The rules were simple: whoever landed five clean hits on the opponent's body first would win. Three rounds in total.
Before the match, Garen told me a little about his past. In his youth, he had served as a knight of the Royal Order and even commanded his own squad. When he retired, he used his savings to buy land in this village and build a house here. That answered the question of where the money for a house like this had come from.
By the way, the village was called Fersuls — which in the local language meant "Wise Oak."
I wasn't a complete beginner either. Ten years of fencing practice in my previous world hadn't gone to waste. More than that, here I moved faster and lighter than ever before. According to Elaris, it was all thanks to my new body.
We fought with wooden swords. At first Garen was clearly holding back, testing me. But once he realized I wasn't going to go easy, he became serious.
And that's when the passive skill appeared.
When Garen swung for a strike, the same voice I had heard during the fight with the thunder-fox sounded in my head again.
[Passive skill activated: "Predictor"]
In the next moment, a semi-transparent shadow seemed to appear beside Garen — a reflection of his movements, anticipating his actions by fractions of a second. I could see where he would strike before the blade even started moving.
That was enough.
Dodge. Counterstrike. Hit.
And so it went — five times.
That's how I ended up defeating a former knight.
Someone might say, «What's there to be proud of? You beat an old man.» But Garen wasn't some frail veteran. He was fifty-four and, according to his own words, still in his prime. It was just that at my current stage of development he was no longer a serious opponent. Though honestly, I probably could have handled it without the skill — there was simply no one else to test it on.
Later we tried sparring with Suron, but he ran out of breath almost immediately and ended up on the ground even faster than Garen had.
After the fight, Garen gifted me a short katana. Since then, I've worn it in a sheath at my belt.
To some people it might have seemed too short, but for me it was just right.
During that week, I also learned that the village stood within the territory of the kingdom of Elysium. The kingdom provided protection for settlements in exchange for a small percentage of harvests and farmers' income. However, it was impossible to control everything, so bandits occasionally attacked remote villages before the knights could arrive.
Incidentally, Garen had served in the Order of this very kingdom — Elysium. So his past and his current home were more closely connected than I had first thought.
His son, Kai, had followed in his father's footsteps, joining the knights and eventually rising to the rank of supreme commander of the army, becoming one of the Five Fingers of the current king.
Among the more curious things I learned, the lighting in houses impressed me the most.
They weren't simple candles or oil lamps, but real wall-mounted lamps. Wealthier people even had chandeliers — like Garen did.
The principle behind them turned out to be fairly simple… and a little strange.
In the nearby forests lived demonic pixies — something like fairies, but originating from hell. They entered this world through a spatial rift located somewhere deep in the forest. They weren't particularly dangerous, but people had found a use for them.
Magical pollen formed on the pixies wings, called Light Dust. It got that name because it began to glow brightly when it came into contact with the magical essence present in the air.
People captured the pixies, carefully collected the dust from their wings, and then released them. It didn't sound particularly humane, but according to Garen, these demonic pixies lacked intelligence — unlike other fairies — and were considered something closer to flies or mosquitoes. There were even special farms where they were bred and harvested regularly.
The lamp itself was elegantly designed. Light Dust was placed inside, and at the bottom of the lamp was an air rune. It created a weak current infused with magical essence, which stirred the dust particles inside a glass bulb. Interacting with the magic, the dust began to glow, gradually heating up and producing a steady, bright light.
Turning the lamp off was simple — just remove the power stone, and the flow of magic would stop.
Honestly, I had expected a much more primitive level of development. But this world was clearly more complex than it first appeared.
Garen once told me there had been quite a story surrounding the pixie farms.
The Church believed that keeping demonic pixies within city territory was a desecration of sacred land. In their view, even if the creatures posed no threat, the mere fact that they came from hell was reason enough to ban them.
At first it was limited to sermons and public speeches. Priests protested and demanded the farms be shut down, but according to Garen, the townspeople listened without much enthusiasm — the new lighting was simply too convenient.
When it became clear that words alone wouldn't change anything, some people decided to act differently. Several pixie incubators were destroyed during the night. The farms suffered serious losses, and rumors of sabotage spread quickly through the city.
In response, the farm owners filed a complaint in court.
The trial lasted a long time. In the end, the court didn't find either side guilty but issued a compromise: pixie farms were banned within city limits. The state allocated land outside the walls, and production continued there instead.
— Everyone ended up satisfied, I suppose, — Garen shrugged. — The Church got what it wanted, the farms stayed open, and the king avoided an open conflict.
The strange thing was that the Church never protested against the lamps themselves or the use of Light Dust. If they were truly concerned about "desecration," it would have made sense to oppose everything connected to it. After all, Light Dust was used everywhere.
I didn't dig deeper into it, but somehow it felt like there was more to the story.
I couldn't help smiling.
It seemed that even in a world of magic and swords, everything eventually came down to land, money, and influence.
I leaned back in my chair and looked up at the lamp hanging from the ceiling. The particles of Light Dust drifted quietly inside the glass bulb, softly illuminating the room.
A week ago, I had woken up on a cold shore with no idea where I was or what was happening. Now I had a roof over my head, proper clothes, a sword at my belt… and a strange but understandable life.
From the courtyard came the sound of swords clashing. It sounded like Suron — he was still training, probably trying to get his revenge. Garen was grumbling something at him in response.
It seemed that getting used to this world had been easier than I expected.
At least for now.
The lamp's light flickered slightly as the air current inside strengthened, and I caught myself realizing that none of this felt foreign anymore.
This world was living its own life.
And it seemed that now — so was I.