This morning, I spent a good hour crafting a simple bow for my sister and a tomahawk for myself. I couldn’t keep borrowing my father’s tools, so I decided to make some of our own. A tomahawk might not be much better than a stick to some, but it was nearly as effective for bug hunting as a real weapon. The bow, though simple, would shoot accurately.

  For Theresa, I took some old arrows that the village hunters had lost at a makeshift archery range nearby. If the adults of the village—and our parents—had been supportive of us learning weapon skills, I would have asked the hunters to teach her. But life always seemed to complicate things. So, I went early in the morning, before the hunters woke for practice, and took what we needed. In the end, we’d be saving their lives too. The arrows were old and battered, but still better than the time I would spend making low-quality ones myself.

  After another two hours of teaching Theresa how to aim and shoot, I was amazed at her progress. She was a fast learner, but it would still take time before she could reliably hit a moving target on her own. Increasing her aim discipline with “skill” experience would help; that would come naturally from killing with arrows.

  This was where she initially struggled. The small beetles and wasps were quick and hard to hit, not to mention their size made them difficult targets. So, she started by shooting at the ones on the ground that weren’t moving. With a bit of luck, she managed to get a few kills. Most of her total kills, however, came from me stunning the targets with a soft “whack” of my weapon while she finished them off while they were down.

  As we continued to hunt the woods bare of any critters we could find, we felt our experience pools grow. After nearly a week of hunting, I knew we had accumulated more than enough general (green) experience to create any “Will” power we chose. Tomorrow, I would test the waters by creating my own power before letting Theresa try. It was my theory, and I needed to ensure it was safe first.

  The next day, I sat in a meadow near our home, far enough away that my parents wouldn’t see and disturb me. I needed peace and silence. Taking on a meditative pose, I closed my eyes and envisioned a world. As this world began to form, I shaped it into golden gears like those of a clock. Every piece was fine-tuned and calculated. Most of the complicated parts were prearranged, requiring only a simple level of mathematics to complete. What would have been simple for someone from Earth was likely not so for a medieval civilization. The previous hero probably solidified this power with sheer experience points and force of will. I calculated and improved its efficiency. My spell was a well-oiled and finely-tuned machine!

  With what I believed was a far greater focus than a young boy could typically achieve, I constructed my spell and poured my willpower into it. I desired to change what was meant to be written in stone as the future. When I finished, I was amazed at the result. It was beautiful, but I remained uncertain how strong it was compared to the game’s protagonist. This aspect had never been shown to the player, so there was no way to know.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  “Slow-Time!” I called out as I activated my power. Saying its name wasn’t necessary; it turned out that wasn’t even its true name but merely one possible action to utilize it. It wasn’t “Time Manipulation,” like in Fable 2, but that was closer to the truth. Its true name was “Time Control,” and it was far better than it had ever been in the game!

  I watched as time nearly came to a halt around me while Theresa stared in awe as I moved about. Two seconds in, and she hadn’t even noticed I had disappeared yet. Level one Slow-Time only worked for four or five seconds in the game, but for me, it lasted nearly nine. What’s more, I could tell that the area effect wasn’t the only way to use it. If someone wanted, they could speed up time, but that would rarely be useful. Just as I could slow time in an area, I could slow time for a single object, which would be much more efficient in terms of “will” energy. I could already think of several incredibly useful applications, but since it was my first time casting, I didn’t have the energy left to test it immediately.

  Feeling my “Will Pool” running low, I picked up a perfectly good apple I found in the meadow, leaned against a boulder, and took several quick bites. As I finished, the spell ended, and Theresa scanned the area hurriedly until her eyes landed on me, lounging lazily against the boulder. I attempted to play it off, but she saw right through my act, covering her mouth and scoffing.

  “What took you so long? I’ve been waiting here forever!” I said, pretending to yawn.

  “I was almost starting to think you were an imposter and not my actual brother, but then you do this and remove all doubt!” she teased.

  Her playful statement startled me momentarily, causing me to drop the partially eaten apple. I stared at my hand for a moment. The truth was, I didn’t really know who or what I was. Was I an imposter who had stolen her brother’s life? Or was I truly the hero himself, somehow infused with memories of someone from Earth? What if I was two souls fused together by the work of a god? I found myself in a sort of existential crisis, struggling within. I held my head in genuine pain, and Theresa looked at me with concern.

  “I’m sorry... I didn’t mean to—”

  “Theresa, what’s my name?” I asked desperately. It felt as if some sort of PTSD had suddenly overtaken me. I had mostly avoided contact with others since I woke up here. The villagers who had seen me merely called me “Boy,” and my parents had said, “Oh, son, did you hit your head on the floor?” Even Theresa had just called me “brother.” People had always done this in the game, and the main character’s name was never revealed. No one had said my name, and I was at a loss. Who am I?

  She was silent for a moment, then approached me. “Your name is Arn, brother.” The next thing I knew, I was being hugged. “Your name is Arn,” she repeated.

  Comforting me, she said, “Trust me, even though you’ve become more knowledgeable and mature, you are still you.” Her maturity and emotional intelligence for a girl her age were astounding, and fortunately, it was just what I needed. She calmed me down, even though I doubted I was truly her brother. Heck, I even questioned if he had ever existed at all, or if he was a construct added by some powerful being to place me here. Yet the simple kindness of an innocent child was enough to pull me out of my state.

  Since the day I awoke here, I have felt emotions of love for these people, but they always felt foreign, almost alien to me. The desire to help them was genuine, yet it sprang from my mind alone; I just knew it was the right thing to do. As I touched my face, I realized there were tears in my eyes. So, it seemed I too was only human after all. There went that hypothesis, and just another million or so to narrow down.

  Who am I?