Restart Again: Volume 1 Adam Scott (motivational books for men .txt) 📖

scabbard out horizontally in front of me with my left hand and reached out to where the grip of the sword would be with my right. Closing my eyes and exhaling, I curled my fingers slowly until I felt the familiar worn leather grip I had spent so long making. As the mana drain tingled in my fingers a grin curled my lips. With a swift pull, the room was filled with a beautiful ringing of metal on metal.

The setting sun shone gloriously off the bastard sword’s blade. It was personally hand forged manasteel and engraved with a set of Old-world runes. Looking over the weapon filled me with a satisfaction and happiness I hadn’t felt in a long time. “Hey beautiful. I’ve missed you.” I tossed the scabbard down onto the bed and traced my finger along the runes with a loving tenderness. My hand slid down the length of the blade, over the ornate guard, and came to rest against the small golden band wrapped just under the pommel. The joy I felt moments before became tinged with sadness and longing. I spent a long time wrestling with the emotions as they rose and fell: nostalgia, wistfulness, joy, sorrow, anger, regret.

The room falling into darkness finally snapped me out of my sentimental self-reflection. Looking out the window, I noticed the sun was now completely set, replaced by a beautiful full moon. How long was I sitting here? Slumping back down to the bed, I gingerly placed the weapon back into the scabbard and leaned it against the bedpost. Running my hand across the pommel I expended a small amount of mana and the blade flashed away, leaving an empty scabbard once more.

I yawned more violently than before, reflexively stretching until both my shoulders popped. I rolled my neck around until it yielded a similar pop, then stood slowly and began the process of preparing for a good night’s rest. I removed my coin purse from my belt and set it on the bedside table. The chest of drawers across the room was just large enough for my bandolier, cloak, shirt and leathers. Slipping out of my boots, I took a moment to be thankful for anti-fouling enchantments placed on my socks and undergarments. “I get the feeling that I won’t be…” A yawn interrupted my muttering, “...I won’t be finding much deodorant around here.”

With my preparations completed I crawled underneath the single blanket on the small mattress. The fabric was a bit scratchy but provided some warmth against the chilly room. I take my cloak for granted too often. Curling up to combat a small shiver, I closed my eyes and rested my head on the straw pillow. Sleep came almost instantly as the weight of my world finally crashed down on me in full.

---

The sky overhead was bright blue and completely clear of clouds. I was sweating from exhaustion, and the sun beating down from above made the day uncomfortably hot. The rhythmic chopping of my woodsman’s axe was the only sound in the clearing save for a slight rustling of leaves in the weak breeze. My shoulders ached from a day of exertion, but it was a sweet pain. It felt good to be strong, and to use that strength to achieve a tangible goal.

I leaned on the axe for a moment, wiping my brow and letting out a satisfied sigh. For my entire life, I had never felt like I knew what my purpose was. Bouncing from job to job with a half-finished computer science degree, renting a small one-room apartment barely big enough for a bed, a shower and some choice kitchen appliances, and random one night stands that never resulted in a second date...It left a hole I could never figure out how to fill. I was about to be in my thirties and felt like my life to that point had been completely wasted.

Until the day when everything changed. I furrowed my brow, doing my best to think back to what happened, but as usual I came up empty. I was watching TV from my bed, half drunk and dozing off, and then...blackness. Blackness, and pain. With a shiver, I put that particular memory aside and reflected on my life after arriving here. 

It took a while to adapt to the strange new world, but I found myself oddly suited for it in the end. Technology was nowhere to be found: Horses pulled carts of farm goods, smiths forged weapons and armor for knights, and a printing press was considered advanced machinery. I quickly found a job in the village I appeared in as a smith’s apprentice and lived in a small addition behind his forge.

Two and a half years had passed since I first appeared here. I smiled, proud of how far I had come. Initially I was a weak, pale, lanky stick of a man who would rather stay inside drinking and watching anime than go out and interact with somebody in public. Through the hard work at Ashedown’s forge, I was now fit, tanned, and pleasantly adept at interacting with people. I could care for farm animals, forge a variety of high-quality items, and even wield a sword with a middling level of expertise.

Satisfied with the amount of wood that was chopped before me, I lodged the axe head down into the chopping stump and began loading the afternoon’s work into a wheelbarrow. It would take at least four trips with the wheelbarrow to move all the wood from the clearing back to the forge, so I filled it as high as possible without the threat of tipping and began the short walk back. It was a nice winding path through the thicket behind the forge, and I took my time on the trip to appreciate the respite of the shady trees.

A faint melody began to drift through the trees ahead of me. It was a lilting soprano voice, softly singing of times gone by and glories won. This song