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ㅤFennel is a living legend among the Stalkers, who gathered around him an incalculable number of rumors and discussions that had nothing in common. The nickname "Battle Maniac" awakened courage and confidence in victory in the allies, while it led the enemies into fear and confusion. Any Stalkers, be it a Bastard or a Sweepers, has heard more than once about this, in everyone's opinion, superman, whose ability in battle could act as a worthy competitor to the martial art of the Legendary Stalker. Some said that the Battle Maniac was even stronger, he just did not want to attract unnecessary attention from both colleagues and Alchemists and the Workshop.
ㅤAs for Fennel, he only rolled his eyes irritably whenever another story about his great adventures, invented by some half-fantasist, reached his ears, in which he put arrogant Alchemists in their place, and defeated monsters three times larger than him, and with only one swing of his sword he single-handedly defeated experienced Stalkers. Who, if not Fennel himself, knew that he was not an all-powerful hero and would never have become, because such exist exclusively in children's fairy tales with a happy ending, where good always triumphs over evil. But life is not divided into black and white. It consists of gray stripes of different shades; it is iridescent only for cheerful fools. And it was precisely such fools that Fennel tried to avoid.
ㅤAs a graduate of the Monad Charity House, the Battle Maniac regularly returned to the place where he spent most of his childhood and youth life. There was still some sentimentality in his callous nature. His favorite activity on such days was watching fencing lessons, in which young children picked up weapons and clumsily waved them from side to side, imitating a fight.
ㅤAt first, the young Stalkers were taught basic movements and fighting positions, forced to practice with wooden swords on homemade training dolls. Gradually, much more dangerous and well-sharpened metal weapons fell into their hands, which were carefully selected by professional mentors based on the student's fighting style. Stalkers, who were once trained here, after the release of a stream of young children, selected their students, and subsequently they revealed their potential on joint assignments with their mentors, gained experience and became full-fledged members of the faction.
ㅤFennel went through this process himself. He turned out to be a talented and capable young man, and this was especially noticed by the people around him — teachers, classmates and the mentor to whom he got, and from under whose wing he got out before everyone else, explaining this by the desire to start an independent life as soon as possible. In general, he achieved his high-profile fame on his own, devoting himself to work and mastering martial arts.
ㅤDespite this, he never took young boys and girls as students who wanted to devote their lives to protecting Krat. Fennel endured joint work with colleagues with undisguised dissatisfaction, each time convincing himself of the need to cooperate with people who were strangers to him only for the sake of successful completion of the task. But he never explained the reason for rejecting the role of mentor, even if he was offered a decent amount of money for agreeing. In the end, everyone accepted his unshakeable principles, and such offers stopped coming.
ㅤIn all this, Fennel has never been arrogant, did not turn up his nose ostentatiously and did not brag about his strength in front of less skilled colleagues. He communicated with others on equal terms, showing respect and tact at certain moments, and at certain moments cutting off further discussion and leaving his opponent unanswered. At first glance, everyone could compare him to an arrogant arrogant, but in a personal conversation with him, no one has ever justified their conjectures.
***
ㅤThe horizon is enveloped in delicate shades of pink and purple. Fluffy clouds float across the sky, colored with all kinds of sunset colors — from bright yellow to muted purple. A faded crescent moon peeks through them. The warm wind caressed his face, bringing with it the scent of wood and foliage.
At this late hour, the students of the Charity House rested in their rooms, did their homework and got ready for bed. Not a single living soul could break the silence that reigned in the neighborhood of the house. It was in such an atmosphere that Fennel wandered aimlessly with a leisurely gait, enjoying an evening off from work.
ㅤThe last task turned out to be especially difficult, despite the fact that it was not the first time that the Battle Maniac had completed such missions. This time he had to act as a bodyguard for some "very important and significant" Alchemist. "Gold in a pile of humus" this same Alchemist praised himself, but Fennel did not see anything special in this arrogant idiot.
ㅤ"Damn it, why is nothing working?!" There was a shrill cry from the side of the training field of the Charity House, which destroyed the harmonious song of nature sinking into sleep.
ㅤFennel walked quickly in the direction of the voice, wondering why someone was on the training field at such a late hour. The Charity House has its own set of rules, violators of which are punished accordingly. So who is this brave man who decided to go against the system?
ㅤA small boy stood in the middle of an endless field. He was not wearing a uniform that hindered movement, however, there was no doubt that he was a student of the Charity House. His trembling hands gripped the hilt of the wooden sword tightly, his legs moved chaotically across the field while the boy himself struck at the stuffed straw doll. The tired young man could barely stand on his feet, but not a single injury was visible on the body of his "opponent". The winner in this "fight" was obvious.
ㅤ"You hold the sword confidently, but the tip should be pointed at the opponent's face, not at his chest. This stand is called the bull," Fennel says in a stern tone, standing in front of the boy. With his palm, he grabs the end of the sword, lifting it so that the tip is pointed slightly upward. "Are you going to win or are you going to play with the enemy?"
ㅤAmber eyes looked fearfully at the man who appeared out of nowhere. Fennel remembered this boy — he was the one who desperately asked Legendary Stalker to be an apprentice, causing a loud scandal that the Stalkers ridiculed for weeks. The Battle Maniac himself admired the young man's tenacity, although he considered this act insanely stupid.
ㅤ"Hold the handle behind your head, the blade faces vertically. Spread your legs wider. Don't straighten your knees." Gloved hands were placed on top of the boy's hands, guiding them to the correct position. "Now try to hit. Use your remaining strength."
ㅤThe young man took a deep breath and hit the doll with a sharp movement. If he hadn't had a blunted wooden sword in his hands, the enemy would have lost his head. The successful blow turned surprise into joy, and the boy almost jumped on the spot from a surge of pride in himself.
ㅤ"I knew that this doll was not my opponent!" The young man exclaimed joyfully, swinging his sword from side to side. It was only minutes later that his emotions subsided, and he finally turned his full attention to his newly minted teacher. "Who are you? And what are you doing here?"
ㅤ"I don't think my name will give you anything. I'm here to—"
ㅤ"I know who you are!" The boy tactlessly interrupted him, pointing at the mask with long rabbit ears hanging from his belt. "Battle Maniac! Do you know how many legends there are about you?!"
ㅤ"About how I killed a beast three times bigger than me? About how I'm able to take down any Stalkers, no matter how many of them come out against me?" Fennel rolled his eyes, placing his crossed arms on his chest. "Or maybe there are some other fairy tales that I haven't heard?"
ㅤ"Zack told me that Valentin Monad was interested in you. That he wants to attract himself the Battle Maniac for personal bodyguards."
ㅤ"Fennel. Call me Fennel." With a deft movement, Stalker snatches a wooden weapon from his thin hands. "And I advise you not to trust empty words. There is as much truth in such stories as there are these same monsters in the world that are three times bigger than me."
ㅤ"And are there many such monsters?"
ㅤ"There are none. They don't exist. At least, no one has ever met such people, and even if they did, they did not get out alive."
ㅤThey fell into silence. Fennel, putting the sword in both hands, began to deftly swing it, drawing patterns known only to him in the air. The grace of his movements was like a deadly dance, capable of defeating anyone who dared to challenge this experienced fighter. Amber eyes could not tear themselves away from the Stalker's movements for a moment, and admiring sighs and oohs escaped from his lips.
ㅤ"What's your name, youngster?" Holding the sword out in front of him, Fennel stops his dance and finally turns to the boy who interested him.
ㅤ"Me? Uh... C-Carlo. My name is Carlo!" Like a soldier, the young man straightened his back and pressed his hands to his body. If Fennel had given an order, he would have immediately rushed to carry it out.
ㅤThe name was familiar to Fennel, but he could not have imagined that the owner of this name was a restless, brave and loud young man who had managed to make himself known not only in the Charity House, but also in the circle of Stalkers. The son of the respected master Giuseppe Geppetto seemed to him to be a calm and quiet boy who would follow in his father's footsteps, but would not give in to the Stalkers in any way, because only this faction has to risk its own life day after day. Fennel was overcome by conflicting emotions: something between respect and disbelief in what was happening.
ㅤ"Show me a couple more tricks!" While the Battle Maniac was lost in thought, Carlo managed to return the sword he had taken away and stand up. His tired eyes lit up with a playful twinkle, and his trembling hands gripped the hilt of his sword tightly. He didn't even want to hear about the refusal.
***
ㅤSince then, in his free days, Fennel has visited the Monad Charity House and taught Carlo the basics, which he mastered when he was once the same student. Fennel talked about all kinds of long sword stands and where the enemy would aim first, assuming one position or another. Fennel made Carlo practice every trick he learned to perfection — so that even a wooden sword in inexperienced hands seemed like a deadly weapon.
ㅤAfter each lesson, the Battle Maniac noted how much Carlo's fighting style was similar to his own style. The boy was fast in his movements, aggressively attacked his opponent, paying attention primarily to damage rather than defense, galloped across the field so deftly that Fennel could not help but advise with a grin to purchase a rabbit guard mask in the future.
ㅤRumors have not spared the sudden alliance between a student of the Charity House and an experienced Stalker, who so fiercely defends his dislike of mentoring. And as a result of this unusual union, Carlo became a small semblance of the Battle Maniac, gradually mastering everything that his mentor generously shared with him.
ㅤOnly Fennel himself refused to call himself Carlo's mentor at all.
ㅤ"Why don't you want to take me on as an apprentice?" Carlo was indignant whenever the topic of mentoring was raised. And it rose up practically every lesson they had.
ㅤ"I don't take students."
ㅤ"You've been teaching me for months! Isn't that the same thing?"
ㅤ"You have potential, youngster, and I'm just helping it open up." Patting Carlo's head, puffed up with resentment, Fennel goes to the sword rack, takes one for himself, and throws the other into Carlo's hands. He barely manages to catch it.
ㅤ"All the Stalkers take at least one student, so why don't you do it?"
ㅤ"Because I don't have the time and energy to put another burden on my own shoulders."
ㅤCarlo was persistent, but Fennel was even more persistent. He promised never to reveal to anyone the reason for refusing mentoring, but it was absurdly simple and noble.
ㅤThe nickname "Battle Maniac" was not in vain attached to him, but specifically to his fighting style — aggressive, hot, fast, sacrificial. In battle Fennel gave all his strength to hitting and inflicting fatal damage to the enemy, completely forgetting about protecting his own vulnerabilities. There has never been an opponent in his life who would take advantage of this weakness against Fennel, and only because he is still alive, famous like a legend in battle among his colleagues.
ㅤBecoming a mentor meant teaching his students the same dangerous fighting style. Any simple task could be the last in their lives. Is the dream of a bright future worth such sacrifices for Krat? Is it necessary for a young Stalker to risk his own health and life for the sake of successfully completing a mission just because his teacher told about all the enemy's vulnerabilities, but did not tell about his own? Fennel considered it a stupid sacrifice, not a great fight.
ㅤCarlo was the first one who was able to awaken mentoring feelings in Fennel. Looking at the clumsy swings of the sword, Stalker seemed to be returning to his youth, which left many bruises, scars and abrasions on his body. He recalled his first missions, recalled how he barely got out of the slaughterhouse alive. On one of these tasks, he could lose his arm, only thanks to the luck that loves him, he is still alive and well. He did not wish such a suicidal experience on any young Stalkers. Already, many graduates died on their first assignment.
ㅤFennel taught Carlo basic knowledge, but never crossed the line that limited the boy from the very aggressive style that Fennel possessed. At each lesson, he reminded Carlo of protection, without which he would not last a minute in battle, but he did not listen to him and continued to step on the rake that Fennel himself had once stepped on.
ㅤFennel agreed with one rumor: Carlo is his young copy.
***
ㅤ"Will you come to my graduation tomorrow?"
ㅤ"I doubt that my employer will approve of this idea."
ㅤCarlo sighed in exasperation and fell into the arms of the soft grass. His thoughts were occupied all day with the upcoming graduation, after which he would finally be able to fulfill his dream and become a great Stalker. Fennel had no doubt that this single-minded and unstoppable boy would be able to achieve anything he wanted.
ㅤ"Father probably won't come either."
ㅤ"Do you think he will miss such an important event in his son's life?"
ㅤ"He missed absolutely all the important events in his son's life. And he's not sorry at all."
ㅤIt was not the first time that Carlo complained to Fennel about his father, embellishing his stories with various obscene expressions. He understood that the boy just needed to pour out this accumulated negativity, and therefore he did not stop him.
ㅤ"He still wants me to give in to the Workshop and work next to him."
ㅤ"You learned to be a Stalker."
ㅤ"Nothing will stop him from depriving me of the right to choose, forcibly dragging me into his closet and forcing me to spend the rest of my life with these soulless pieces of wood." Carlo got up from the ground and stretched lazily.
ㅤThe moonlight spread across the silent land, illuminating the training field, which was immersed in the embrace of night. Perhaps Carlo will never come back here again, will not pick up a wooden sword and will not begin to practice blows under the strict supervision of Fennel. These thoughts, like parasites, were eating away at Carlo from the inside.
ㅤ"Don't forget what I taught you, Carlo." The Battle Maniac slaps the boy on the back. "You don't get extra points for fighting fair."
ㅤ"Survive and win, that simple." Carlo finishes for him. "I remember. And I won't let you down, Fennel."
ㅤ"I really hope that I will not hear a new fairy tale about what a bad mentor I am and, having taken up a student for the first time, condemned him to certain death."
ㅤ"So you recognize me as your student?!"
ㅤ"No."
ㅤFennel's body gets heavier. Thin arms wrap around the man's waist, enclosing him in a strong farewell hug. Carlo's shoulders are shaking, he is not crying only because he does not want to remain a crybaby in the eyes of his teacher and, first of all, his friend.
ㅤ"Don't stop at any difficulties, Carlo."
ㅤFennel hugs him back.
ㅤ"Goodbye."
ㅤHe's leaving.
***
ㅤThe impact of sword on sword, the sound of metal colliding with metal. Sparks fly all over the field. The elder is breathing noisily.
ㅤ"That toy is mine. Mine! Root for me, bros!"
ㅤThe Youngest is the fastest and most elusive among the named brothers. But even she doesn't have time to dodge the puppet's punches. Having two blades doesn't help her to hit an opponent at least once. She has to leave the battlefield.
ㅤ"So this is Geppetto's puppet, huh. Gotta admit: he knows what he's doing."
ㅤThe Eccentric is unhurried, his punches always hit exactly the target. He prefers to move around the field by jumping, getting behind a confused opponent and delivering a fatal blow. His spear-wielding is like an art. But not with a puppet that is not inferior to him in dexterity. The Eccentric leaves the battlefield.
ㅤ"You don't get extra points for fighting fair. Survive and win, that simple."
ㅤFennel appears on the battlefield immediately after the Eccentric, cutting off the puppet's path to the exhausted Eldest. He holds the sword out in front of him, taking up a stance that mimics the stance of Geppetto's puppet. The boy in front of him is his young copy. His reflection, of whose victory he had no doubt. Never.
ㅤ"We are death. We are your final judgment, your demise. Die, Geppetto's puppet."
ㅤThrowing his left arm forward, the Battle Maniac launches a harpoon, which at the same moment reaches the target and attracts it to itself.
ㅤ"You've been dead for a long time."
ㅤHe swings his sword.