Michael's camp was not much different from the bandits'. Except there was only one bedroll.

  "Hahaha," Michael was laughing out loud. "You're even struggling with the bedroll I made you take from those bastards."

  "We can't all be great heroes like Michael Cordan," Pete said, smiling.

  "It's Cordovan," Michael said, grinning. "But at least you got my first name right. How about I help you and you tell me your story over dinner?"

  Pete couldn't argue with that, and an hour later he had his first hot meal in this world.

  "So, have you ever heard about reincarnation?" Pete said, dipping his bread in the soup they'd made.

  "Can't say that I have. I'm not someone who's had a lot of formal education. I know some basic magic, but nothing fancy. Is it something magical?"

  After that, Pete started telling Michael everything. He told about coming from Earth and dying there. His meeting with Aria and her strange protections. He told everything about meeting and killing Malachar.

  "Wait." Michael held up a hand. "Did you say Malachar?"

  "Yes? The dragon. Big, black, very angry."

  "Old man." Michael's voice was very careful. "Malachar the Destroyer. The Black Scourge. The dragon that's been

  terrorizing the Borderlands for over a thousand years. THAT Malachar?"

  "I guess? He didn't introduce himself properly before trying to eat me."

  Michael stared at him for a long moment. Then he started laughing, that slightly hysterical edge in his voice. "You punched a legendary dragon to death on your first day here. Of course you did."

  And lastly Pete told about Sarah.

  "She was the light of my life. When she died, a big part of me died too..."

  Pete felt a tear running down his cheek. It was a strange tear. Tickling his face and making him aware of his own feelings. Grief, sorrow, and something new. Not hope exactly. Maybe acceptance. He didn't know what it was exactly, but through it all he felt something positive.

  It felt good to let it all out. Even if it was to a stranger.

  "That goddess did show me images of Sarah. How happy she was with me as her father. And she told me Sarah was reincarnated as well and lived a long and happy life."

  "Wow," Michael finally said. "That's an unbelievable story, old man. But that smile you have on your face now makes me want to believe you."

  Michael stood up, stretching.

  "Let's see what you can do tomorrow. For now, let's call it a night and get some rest." He glanced at the darkness beyond the firelight. "Don't worry about the monsters. I've got a feeling they're keeping their distance from you."

  Pete laid down on his bedroll and was alone with his thoughts again.

  "I never took Sarah out camping. Just imagine her seeing me struggling with a simple bedroll."

  Pete smiled at that. But with it, also came the familiar pain. Soundless tears ran over his face freely.

  "Why couldn't I cry before all this? I felt so bad for so long. But did I really feel it or was I blocking it all out? The good and the bad. I'm so sorry Sarah."

  Pete wiped his tears away.

  "Tomorrow I will try my best for you. One foot after the other and keep moving forward."

  Across the fire, Michael was staring at the sky. He cleared his throat, looked away when Pete glanced over.

  "Yeah," Michael said quietly. "One foot at a time, old man."

  The next day they were both getting up at first light.

  "You look like you slept like a baby. All fresh and ready to go. Did you sneak out and wash up somewhere?" Michael said with a big smile.

  "Are you jealous?" Pete was flexing and showing off his clothes. Everything was still spotless.

  "Yeah, yeah. Looking good. For an old man that is. When we reach Greyport, the hags will be all over you. Hahaha. Who knows, you could get lucky and one of em will still have some teeth left"

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  "Sorry did you say something? My hearing's not as good as it used to be."

  Pete enjoyed the small jabs from Michael and went easy on him returning remarks.

  "I think it would be best if you changed your outfit," Michael said on a more serious note. "You stick out too much. That's not a good thing in the Borderlands. Take this."

  Pete already decided he would follow Michael's lead and a few minutes later he was flexing again.

  "Do I look like a proper adventurer now or like a bandit? I assume you took these from the slavers?"

  Pete was now in full leather armour, with matching leather boots. It didn't smell as much as he thought it would. The familiar leather smell was mostly there, with just a hint of old sweat.

  Michael also gave him a scabbard with a short sword in it to complete the look.

  Pete's only experience with swords was as a kid, fighting with sticks in the backyard. Pretending to be a knight while Sarah watched and clapped. The short sword felt surprisingly light in his hand. Too light, almost. Like it weighed nothing at all.

  He gave it a test swing. Just a small one. At an imaginary bandit standing about ten feet away.

  The world CRACKED.

  For a dozen yards in the direction he'd swung, trees simply... stopped existing. Not cut. Not fallen. Shattered into splinters. Patches of earth had been scooped out like someone had taken a giant spoon to the ground.

  Pete stared at the destruction.

  "What the fuck, Old Man!"

  Pete couldn't reply and just stood there watching the destruction.

  "How about you put the sword away and we talk first. I think we need to set some ground rules first."

  "Sorry, I didn't know I could do that." Pete said quietly, while clumsily sheathing his sword. "Taking it out was a lot easier than putting it back in."

  "Hahaha" Michael started laughing again. "If I didn't just see you level a forest with my own two eyes, I wouldnt even believe you strong enough to defeat a direwolf pup. Do you know any magic?"

  "Magic?"

  Pete was interested now. He obviously deduced magic was a thing in this world. But he had no idea how it worked.

  "No, there was no magic in my old world. The divine protection I got just activated when I thought about it."

  Michael's grin widened. "Let's start with magic. Even warriors can learn basic spells. The most fundamental is the fireball. Every beginner learns it. It's basically a rite of passage. Here, watch."

  He held out his hand and concentrated. Magical energy gathered in his palm and Pete could somehow see it, like threads of light weaving together. It formed into a ball of flame about the size of an apple.

  Michael threw it at a nearby boulder. The fireball exploded against the stone with a satisfying crack, leaving a scorch mark.

  "See? Basic combat magic. The trick is to gather your mana. That's your magical energy, and shape it into fire. After that just give it direction and let it fly! Go ahead and try it."

  Pete held out his hand, mimicking Michael's posture. He reached inside himself, looking for this "mana" thing.

  He found an ocean of power.

  He hoped to find something like a puddle, maybe a small pond. Instead, he found a vast, churning sea of power that felt like it went down forever. Most of it felt ancient, draconic, furious.

  When he went deeper a part felt cleaner and newer. That was his own natural mana enhanced by Aria's blessing.

  "Just take a little bit," Michael was saying. "About this much." He held his fingers apart, indicating a small amount.

  Pete tried to take a little bit.

  The problem was that "a little bit" was still a lot when everything screamed to be released.

  Fire gathered in his palm. Not an apple-sized ball. It started as sphere of flame the size of a beach ball, burning white-hot and crackling with barely contained power and it rapidly grew in size.

  "Uh," Michael said. "That's... that's a lot more than a little. Release it and aim for the sky!"

  Pete threw it.

  The fireball soared through the sky like a miniature sun. It was early morning but it was as clear as high noon.

  And then the world went white.

  The explosion was deafening and a shockwave knocked both Pete and Michael off their feet.

  Pete and Michael lay on their backs, ears ringing.

  "What," Michael said eventually, "the absolute FUCK was that?"

  "I think I used too much mana," Pete said weakly.

  "TOO MUCH?" Michael sat up, staring at the destruction. "Old man, that wasn't a fireball. That was an S rank level catastrophe spell! Pure destruction magic"

  He started laughing, that slightly hysterical edge in his voice. "You're going to destroy the world by accident, aren't you?"

  "I didn't mean to," Pete said, but he was also starting to laugh. It was absurd. It was terrifying. It was the most ridiculously overpowered display of accidental magic he could imagine.

  Sarah would have thought it was the coolest thing ever.

  "Okay," Michael said, wiping tears from his eyes. "Do you have any plans for conquering the world?"

  Pete stopped laughing.

  "This power is incredible, but it's not what I want. After hearing Sarah lived a full life and hearing her wish for me, I need to do better, for her. Please Michael, help me live a peaceful life in this world."

  He didn't know if this was a universal gesture, but he bowed his head at Michael.

  "Hmm," Michael seemed to think it over. "As much as I'd like to take you on as the world's oldest apprentice, I think I'd just be observing a natural disaster trying to control itself."

  "But you'll still help me?" Pete asked, and there was something vulnerable in his voice. Because in this stupid, ridiculous arrangement where he was a forty-year-old overpowered idiot following the lead of an adventurer in his early twenties, this felt right. This felt like living.

  Michael's expression softened. "Yeah, old man. I'll teach you. Someone's got to make sure you don't accidentally blow up a city." He stood and offered Pete his hand. "Come on. Let's try that again, but this time, imagine you're trying to light a small candle, not signal the apocalypse."

  Pete took his hand and let Michael pull him up. "A candle?"

  "Yeah. Small, controlled, not world-ending."

  "I can do that."

  Reader, he absolutely could not do that.

  His next three attempts resulted in a destroyed hillside, a small forest fire, and what Michael would later describe as "a mushroom cloud that probably scared the shit out of everything within fifty miles."

  But Pete was smiling. Really smiling. For the first time in ten years, he was enjoying being alive.

  And somewhere, in whatever afterlife or new world she inhabited, he felt like Sarah was cheering him on.

  That's my daddy, she would have said. The strongest person in the whole world.