I

How many times did Marko dream about her? That smile always waiting for him, her meals, not matter how clumsily made, the cheerfulness despite all the hardships she faced.

It has already been three years since he came to Thanaton. 

Past still haunted him every night, what he had left behind, and what he longs for. 

He never thought that it would be like this. He used to be kind, but the collection of knives in his back has turned him bitter and selfish, yet now these feelings shackle his heart, making it hard to enjoy the new opportunities. 

Absence of any light from the outside made it clear it was late into the night. But Marko knew he won't be able to sleep anymore and with a loud grunt got up from the messy bed, half covered by sheet, making it obvious he did not have a habit of making it every day. 

Stretching, he reached for the curtains, revealing the dark cobblestone streets of the city, and medieval looking shapes of the buildings. Weak light of the magic lamps were just enough to light up the road, though even that was barely enough to lead people the right way. A shadow of a city guard emerged, faint sound made by his iron boots breaking through the silence, bouncing from the cold walls of the buildings, echoing throughout the street, right into Marko's ears. Well he won't be sleeping anyway, so it didn't bother him as much as usual.

Making his way to the bathroom he reached for the pile of clothes thrown on the chair next to his bed, grabbing whatever bottoms and shirt were on the top, sniffing them to see if they are clean. 

"Ouch!" The pulsating pain spread through his body, clouding his vision for a second. Stubbed toe, one of the worst pains that can happen to a person. Darkness made it hard to see, so he went off a bit much to the side while relying on his memory to locate the bathroom door. 

'I hope he didn't hear me'  

Landlord was very adamant on keeping it quiet at night, and Marko was already warned multiple times, both due to screams he lets out during his nightmares and his habits of walking around loudly at night. 

Eventually he stumbled his way into a small square room, snapping his finger to light up the magic lamp hanging from the sealing, revealing a metal sink connected by a rusty metal tube to hole in the wall and farther into the sewage system. Few inches above it there was a small blue orb, seemingly glued to a wall, some kind of magical device that despite it size when activated by En would produce infinite amounts of water. It was kind of like a faucet, just better. 

Standing at five foot eight, his muscular, yet lean body was scarred from numerous creatures he had to fight in order to earn for a living. With an average looking face, decorated by his small nose that leaned slightly to the right side of his face, bright yellow-brown eyes, messy, black chin long hair that could never be straightened and a poor excuse for a beard, born from his laziness to shave, with random patches of hairless strips, he wasn't a sight to behold. 

'I haven't aged a second since that day'

He has stayed the same since he arrived here, and to him it felt magical, but to people here it was normal. 

There was a lot he didn't understand and a lot that wasn't told to him, but Njeri kingdom, often called Kingdom of True Humanity was the place where souls from Earth would come if they had En in them at the moment of death. Highly illogical concept, after all what if someone died at the old age? He asked, but was not given the answer. In fact he wasn't given an answer to numerous other questions, he was just told that he should feel happy he was finally able to come to where he originates from and given small amount of denari, the currency of this world, some training in using En, general information about the world and basic sword skills and left to fend for himself with a message to put his faith in the Goddess and made to sign a blood contract that would kill him if he spoke of where he came from. Not like he could, for some reason he only had vague memories of it, they all dispersed as he crossed the veil into this world.

'Whatever, I don't really care'

He dove into the sink to wash up real quick, thinking about what he should do for the rest of the night. Taking another look in the mirror, he rose his index finger few inches away from his face and focused on it.

Flowing through his body, strengthening it, energy slowly conveyed along his finger, creating a translucent blade over the length of it. A razor sharp edge, created by En taking a physical shape due to high density, glided over the cheek as curly hairs flew everywhere but their intended target, the sink. 

He could have used the ordinary razor blade, but En was the foundation of this world, mastering it meant being able to do more, and controlling it with such precision was a good practice. Which he needed as another loud scream left his throat and specks of blood from his cheek fell down, mixing in with the hair and clogging up the sink.

'I am screwed now'

Loud footsteps were quickly approaching his front door.

"I TOLD YOU TO KEEP QUIET AT NIGHT, YOU ARE WAKING UP HALF OF THE BUILDING!" 

That hoarse voice that was shouting was sending chills down Marko's spine, so he did the logical thing. Grabbed as many things of his that he could, opened the window and readied to jump.

"Kind sir, you are far more likely to wake tenants."  Marko chuckled to his own jest. 

"SMARTASS ARE WE?" 

Marko took another look at the front door, 'Well Maya is going to kill me as well, but better her than this guy,' he thought to himself quickly before disappearing into the night, leaving a small purse with a few copper coins to cover the cost of the stay on the window frame.

                                                                                              ***

Despite it being a summer morning, the unusual chill and heavy fog enveloped Thanaton. It was a perfect morning to stay in bed and be lazy whole day, but Maya knew that new jobs and bounties are going to be posted at venand's guild. After all it was Saturday, so people from all over the Njeri will flock to the city to ask for venand's help in dealing with criminals and monsters. 

She quickly jumped out of her bed, ran off to the closet, picked up some clothes and hurried to the bathroom to wash up. As she came out her eyes wandered off to a little bedside table which contained 2 things. A vase with some dead flowers and a framed picture of three people.

In the middle there was a short, pale, skinny girl, with long red hair slithering around her narrow shoulders, shining with her smile through it, as her  linen shirt tied to a knot right above where her skirt was, revealing just a tad bit of her toned stomach, her legs hidden by dark black thigh high stocking with knives neatly stuck around the edges of it for easy access. 

"Man I wear the same thing all the time..." she murmured into her beard as she glanced at the mirror to notice the same clothes on her

To the right, hugging her, was a huge man wearing a sleeveless shirt, his height far eclipsing the other two people, muscles looking as if they will tear up the picture. His eyes were long, with a distinct curve, almost like a teardrop and a huge ear to ear smile gave off an enchanting bronze glow to his cheeks, with pearly white teeth contrasting his skin tone. 

Third person, grumpy, looking away from the one taking the picture, almost as if trying to hide away made Maya shudder with disapproval.

'Marko, that little twerp better not be getting himself into any trouble again'

Sharp noise of someone knocking on the window woke her up from her thoughts.

"Why are you here?" she asked looking down at smiling figure "We were supposed to meet up at the guild."

"Well, I couldn't sleep, so I was roaming around the city, helping out guards, you know the usual," said Marko, while averting his eyes from Maya's piercing gaze.

"Don't tell me," Maya began "oh whatever, we'll be on a job anyway."

Marko understood Maya knew why he was early, but felt relieved that she just moved on from it.

"Wouldn't hurt to use the door sometimes?" Maya moved away from the window and downstairs to open the door.

Marko stood there smiling, looking at the almost empty room that served as an entrance hall, living room and a kitchen, with stairs in the back of the room leading to sleeping quarters and by them a giant portrait of a red haired woman. Marko never asked, but he assumed it was Maya's mom.

"Take a seat, I'll make us tea before we go," said Maya and went over to the stove, flicking her fingers and lighting up the little white cube resting in the middle of the tightly aligned firewood in the circle around it, sparking up a strong fire right away. 

"Don't forget the sugar this time, please!" 

"Drinking tea with sugar is blasphemy on the same level as not believing in Goddess,"

Marko snorted. Despite going through what he did, he couldn't believe in the Goddess to the extent most of the people in Njeri did. Sure it was like a land from the fantasy books he read back home, but other than En  that truly was magical, or rather was the magic of this world, nothing pointed to Goddess really existing. Yet the creature that brought him here, shapeless light with the most calming voice he ever heard didn't fully allow him to disregard the possibility.

"Anyway, think we are gonna land a good job today?" asked Marko.

"Well it would be nice, but since the peace agreement with Assuwa kingdom, less and less jobs worth doing are getting posted," Maya answered.

"Peace doesn't have much to do with monsters not appearing as often ."

"True, but it seems connected in some way." said Maya, taking a sip out of her cup "Ouch, it's still hot."

Band on Maya's hand suddenly lit up with bluish light. She brought it up few inches away from her lips and whispered, "Answer"

"YOU GOTTA PICK UP MARKO AND GET TO GUILD RIGHT NOW!" yelled the voice on the other side.

"Xin you don't have to shout, we can hear you well," said Marko, "and I am already at Maya's, what's going on?"

"Oh sorry, I am still getting used to these long distance communication bands", Xin replied, "and there are bunch of people here, lots of new jobs, and there is a premium job even."

"WHAT?", Maya yelled in excitement

"Yeah I am not joking, best off all, it's not a job for one person or one group, it's paid to those who complete it first, THREE HUNDRED THOUSAND DENARI!"

Both Maya and Marko sighed in disbelief.

"We'll be right there." Maya whispered to the band, "end."

She looked at  Marko, nodded, gulping down the remaining tea and got up, running to the door, leaving the house.

                                                                                           ***

Streets of Thanaton were always busy, but nothing came even close to Saturdays. Every nook and corner of the city had someone standing in it, making deals or small talk. 

Tall, white buildings kept meticulously clean by cleaning services, encompassed the broad streets, providing shade even in the harshest Sun. 

City was built circularly, surrounded by giant walls, with residential homes and buildings being towards the outskirts, with each district having their representative and their own municipal building directly answering to the king, while taking  care of minor issues by themselves, with few city guards given to districts to keep peace and mediate between districts and the kingdom rulers. Deeper into the city, there were different workshops, from mining to tailoring ones. The center was where all the fun was at. In the middle, a giant castle, within its own walls, by far eclipsing any other building, and a bit away from it, numerous shops and stands for everything made in Njeri kingdom, and of course guilds. This was by far the busiest place in the city, where sometimes it would take half an hour to move few feet due how crowded it got.

However today was unusually crowded, even for Saturday. 

As Maya and Marko made their way to the center, Marko's eyes wandered off over to horizon, where top of the city walls were barely visible. It was nearing time to go beyond them again, something he enjoyed far more than staying in the city. Sure, most of the people and monsters wanted you dead once you are out there, but it for sure was more fun than wasting time in the inn, drinking and looking for women. Though Xin sure didn't mind that lifestyle, particularly the women, but the fact he was scary looking guy eluded him, so luck was not on his side.

"You'd make a wonderful w***e, come on, I'll pay you twenty percent of the price we give to a client"

Marko looked over to where Maya was. An unseemly older man was grabbing her by the arm, trying to force her to come with him. For a moment he considered stepping in and helping her, but it was Maya, she didn't need help. And just as the thought crossed his mind, the man was risen above the ground in one swift movement of Maya's body and with a loud bang landed straight on his back. Painful sigh left his mouth as Maya was readying her feet to meet the man's face. 

"That's enough, we are in a hurry," said Marko.

"Fine," Maya answered, looking back at the man on the ground, "next time you try something like that, you'll be swallowing your own teeth."

"I really don't understand what he sees in you, this is the third time he asked you," said Marko as they were moving away from the scene of the fight, "thought he took a bit too far today."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Maya rose her voice.

"Umm, have you taken a look in the mirror recently? You are tiny, scrawny, your female attributes are nothing special, and you are 25 already, not much room to grow and..."

He was interrupted by swift punch to the guts, "You are such a pig, you know that?", Maya said, with her eyes tearing up. 

Fighting for air, Marko squeezed through is teeth, "I was joking you little demon."

"Plenty of market for girls like her tho," a deep voice from behind them added, as a giant figure split the mass of people aside.

"Hey Xin, weren't you supposed to wait for us at the guild?" Maya asked.

"Yeah but I knew you were coming this way and I really needed a drink, so I was in the inn right across the brothel you passed by," Xin answered, "oh and Marko, you really gotta stop picking on her," he added as his thin lips curved into a smile and giant hand moved straight to Marko's back, making him once again fight for the air. His looks would put him in mid thirties, however that would be closer to fifty years of age in Njeri, yet he was always so happy and childish. He was like an older brother figure to Maya and Marko. 

"I don't need you defending me from this idiot," Maya said, "lets just get a move on."

They kept breaking through the sea of people for another hour, before finally appearing before a green, three story  building, with a sign depicting a dragon getting impaled by spear nailed right above the front door. 

"Shall we see what this job is about?" whispered Maya.

Xin and Marko nodded and opened the door. It was like falling from the frying pan into the fire. 

Entrance hall was so full of people, one could barely move a finger without stabbing someone with it, but even that was nothing compared to the crowd fighting and arguing over at the job board. 

"Lively as ever," Marko grumbled.

"Yeah at this rate, we won't get to the board soon," Maya added.

While they were complaining,  Xin has made his way to the board, waving at them to get closer.

Xin may not have been the strongest venand in the guild, at least abilities wise, however his imposing figure still made others step aside when he was passing by.

Finally they made their way to him, and looked at the board. 

There were bunch of small requests about apprehending petty thieves, or slaying some vermin monsters, however on the very top there was one, written in crimson letters, with the official seal of the kingdom.

"Find and destroy the cult of Nazleh, bring the leader alive, kill every other member you find. REWARD: 300000 denari" 

"A job from the king himself?" Unable to hide the excitement in her voice, Maya trembled. 

"Seems so, but doesn't he have the elite squad doing missions for him?" Marko answered with his own question.

"Obviously, king may have other things to worry about," Xin said, "and thus he came to the best mercenary guild in the Kingdom."

"Yeah but the rew...." Marko started, but was interrupted by Xin, "Let's not discuss details here, to the hideout."

As they left the guild, sun was already way past the zenith, and crowd has already begun to disperse. Following Xin, Maya and Marko were looking to side at numerous shop windows, chock-full with magical instruments, exotic ingredients and small monster-like animals to be kept as pets. 

Suddenly, Maya stopped in front of the one, looking at the stylish black dress, obviously made for higher class citizens.

"You into dresses now?" Marko exclaimed. 

"Pff, fifteen thousand denari," Maya mumbled into the chin, then looked up at him, "I already heard your opinion on me today, spare me it."

"I was just surprised, besides, I think it would look great on you," Marko blushed, and quickly moved away to catch up with Xin. Maya smiled to herself and soon followed.

Marko was not good with apologizing, he was aware his earlier words took it too far, even for a joke, but nothing more could be expected from a person who pretended to have a heart attack and fall down not moving, gasping for air, no matter what people did, keeping at it until people call for help, only to sprawl up and say it was just a joke. He never learned where the border between a joke and insult was, but he was trying to tone it down, and would attempt to apologize if he hurt someone, no matter how poorly. 

"Here we are," Xin announced, stopping in front of a small shed, tucked away between two abandoned houses.  Inside it was empty, just one rug, which Xin kicked away to reveal small trap door, one he barely fit through as Maya and Marko hurried him to move. Maya being the last, pointed her finger at the rug as thin line of En extended from it to a rug, slowly moving it in the place it was at as the door was closing. 

Climbing down the ladder, small cave room was revealed, with just a counter and three stools, with two immediately taken by Maya and Marko, while Xin went behind the counter and took out three glasses and a bottle with red liquid.

"Nothing like Assuwan wine to relax after a long day," he boasted.

"You say that only because it's from your home country," Maya added as she gladly sipped from her glass.

Marko looked at her drinking, being reminded how different aging works in this world. After all, even though she was twenty five, that's basically under adult age in a world where you are considered one once you turn thirty five. He thought on commenting to tease her,  but decided against, after all in this world he is considered a child too, although he could argue that he already had previous experience with being an adult. 

"So let's talk about that job," Maya broke the silence.

"Yeah, straight from the man himself," Marko answered. 

"We should take it, no?" Xin asked.

Silence again fell on the room, with Maya and Marko both in deep thought.

"Come on, it's not like you two to think about jobs, you always grab the highest paid one available, what's the matter?" impatiently asked Xin.

"Isn't it a little suspicious?" Marko answered, as Maya kept silent, still thinking.

"I don't think so," said Xin.

"Really? Three hundred thousand for a job an elite squad should take care of easily is not suspicious to you?"

"Well, like I said, they may be busy with something else, not to mention this is the first time The King has posted a job in the guild."

"Exactly, Njeri was at war, constantly skirmishing against Assuwa and guild was left to it's own devices, don't you think it would have been more logical to ask for help back then, since guilds have some of the most powerful warriors around the world?"

Xin fell silent, as he too started thinking about it.

"Weren't there rumors of the cult making problems in the villages around the cities throughout the kingdom?" Maya suddenly spoke up.

"Yeah, all over the kingdom, often at two or three places at the same time on the opposite sides of the kingdom," said Xin.

"Well I haven't kept up with news, but even I heard that the people who came in contact with them were mutilated, as well as the cattle, and in some cases drained of all blood from their bodies," Marko added. 

"Could it be that the cult is so widespread that guild is needed to help out?" Xin remarked.

"Possibly, after all, in a war it's easy to spread around your people, there are only so many entry points along the borders, while organized cult would move in smaller groups, and would be much harder to smoke out," said Marko.

"What is even cult of Nazleh?" asked Maya, again suddenly bursting out from the bubble of her thoughts, "Or rather what is this Nazleh that they worship?"

They all looked at each other, then shrugged.

"How about tomorrow we go gather some information and then make a decision based on what we learn?" asked Xin.

The other two agreed, then rose their glasses to ask for more wine. 

Drinking and talking lasted long into the night, occasionally interrupted by laughter and sounds of Maya's fists landing on Marko in reply to his teasing.

Fog had once again settled on the city, thick, chilly and almost unnatural. 

Reviews

[JayG]

Since your goal is to be a writer, there are several things getting in the way of that, and though this will sting, I thought you’d want to know.

First, some minor points: You’re way, way, overusing tags. They are ONLY used when it’s not clear who’s speaking, and when some amplification on the dialog is needed, as in, their tone of voice or expression must be included.

If the reader knows, by whose turn it is to speak, or them using words and expressions unique to them, no tag is needed.

And avoid what's called "Said bookism." Years ago, 1n 1949, someone published a list of alternatives for "he said" and called it the "Said book." It was, and still is, seen as a joke, by publishers, who will reject any manuscript in which "said bookism" is used. When you use, "he said," or "she said," The reader treats it like punctuation, useful but unnoticed. That you noticed it, and tried to fix that plethora of "said's," with alternatives, in and of itself says, "You have too many." 😆

Next, sentence structure. In general, one sentence = one subject. But in this line: “After all, even though she was twenty five, that's basically under adult age, and he felt he should comment on it, but decided against it, after all, he was drinking, and he was only a year older than Maya, and you are considered an adult here when you turn around thirty five.” What’s the subject? Her age? How he feels about commenting? His decision and why he made it? When local people felt you are an adult? I can’t tell. Focus on what matters. And Never ramble. Every word you can remove without loss of meaning or your unique "voice," means it reads faster. And faster read = more impact.

And now, the biggie: You are writing exactly as you were taught to, using techniques that are fact-based and author-centric. You, the author, are reporting and explaining—telling the reader about the situation and the actions, primarily in overview. So we’re not with the protagonist, we’re being told about it second-hand. The name for that is: a report. And if you go back to your school days, the writing assignments you had were, most probably, almost all reports and essays. That makes sense when you think about the purpose of public education, which is to provide employers with a pool of prospective employees who have a predictable and useful set of general skills.

Professions, on the other hand, like Fiction-Writing, are acquired IN ADDITION to those skills. Unlike nonfiction's goal of informing the reader, our goal is to provide an emotional experience. Nonfiction says to explain the situation. So in a horror story the author would tell the reader that the protagonist feels terror. But fiction’s goal is to make the reader literally live the scene AS the protagonist. So our goal is to terrorize the reader. We want to make them afraid to turn out the lights when they get in bed. And we’re judged, not on how well the reader understood, but how strongly they react. The problem is, your school training touched on not a bit of how to do that, because it’s not their job. But since no one reminded us that professions must be acquired, we make the natural assumption that writing is writing, and never learn even the basics, like what a scene is on the page, and why it’s so different from one on the screen. But if we don’t know what a scene is, how can we write one? Right?

So it’s not that you’re doing something wrong, your talent, or how well you write, it’s that you’re missing critical information and techniques. And that’s fixable.

Assuming you don’t have four years free to get a degree in Commercial Fiction-Writing, you need a way to get those tricks. For that, the library’s fiction-writing section is a great resource. But I have a better one, as close as your computer. The best book I’ve found to date on the basics of creating scenes that will sing to a reader is available, free at the site below this paragraph. Copy/paste the address into the URL window at the top of an Internet page and hit Return to get there. Download a copy and dig in. It’s the book that got me my first publishing contract, and if it can do that for me, it can do it for anyone.

https://archive.org/details/TechniquesOfTheSellingWriterCUsersvenkatmGoogleDrive4FilmMakingBsc_ChennaiFilmSchoolPractice_Others

It won’t make a pro of you—that’s your job—and it’s not an easy book to read. But it is the best, and will give you the tools, and, the knowledge of what they can do for you.

So I KNOW this wasn’t what you were hoping to hear. But since it is what every writer needs to know, I thought it best to tell you.

But...whatever you do, hang in there, and keep on writing. The world needs more crazies who can be looking at nothing, and when asked what they’re doing can honestly say, “Working.”

Jay Greenstein
https://jaygreenstein.wordpress.com/category/the-craft-of-writing/the-grumpy-old-writing-coach/

[akutasame]

Much love for this. Yeah as you notice, I did notice overuse and some issues. After all these are rough drafts to make myself put out something. I literally write, proof read to avoid grammar mistakes or sentence structure issues and then post, fixing it as I go forward with the story.

I was also very conflicted on how I should present the story, as you said, make it through character eyes or be just a story teller. Frankly speaking I was unsure of my choice here, as I honestly wanted to do it from the first person point of view at first.

As for one sentence one subject, yeah I missed that when I reread it. I think it's evident I tried to keep it properly separated everywhere, but made a blunder, but it was something that came naturally rather than me researching that. Thanks for teaching me something new. I assume this is a reason everyone has an editor.

As for 'said bookism' , well I probably went overboard, but to me it presents the smallest issue, and it's highly debated from what I saw.
I will say I don't like it in particular.

Also this is exactly what I wanted to hear. I am not here to immediately get praises and win a Noble prize hah

[JayG]

•After all these are rough drafts to make myself put out something

That’s not how it works. If you don’t know the techniques of writing fiction, practicing the wrong skills does nothing but reinforce bad habits. You can edit it forever and it will still be written with nonfiction skills. It's not a matter of "fixing" it. The approach to writing fiction is dramatically different from nonfiction.

At the moment, through no fault of your own, and like everyone who turns to writing fiction, you own only nonfiction writing tools. So, you don’t know why scenes on the page end in disaster, and what that means—and so, won't. You don’t know why we use the short-term scene-goal, what it does, or how to manage it. You don’t know the difference between point of view and viewpoint. And as Mark Twain put it: “It ain’t what you don’t know that gets you into trouble. It’s what you know for sure that just ain’t so.”

But of more importance, your teachers never told you the single most important point: Our goal. The techniques you now use will only inform. But as E. L. Doctorow put it: “Good writing is supposed to evoke sensation in the reader. Not the fact that it’s raining, but the feeling of being rained upon.” And how much time have your teachers spent on how to do that? None, right.

• I honestly wanted to do it from the first person point of view at first.

Another thing they don’t tell us: The “person” you tell the story is irrelevant, and no more than an authorial choice, because the only one using them when talking about the character is the narrator, who is not in the story or on the scene.

Is there the slightest difference between
- - - -
Past still haunted him every night, what he had left behind, and what he longs for.
And
Past still haunted me every night, what I had left behind, and what I long for.
- - - -
Absolutely not. In both cases the narrator is talking, in overview, about someone who is not where they are. Want to change it to 2nd person, and change the tense:
- - - -
Past still haunts you every night, what you left behind, and what you long for.
- - - -
The same disembodied voice is still saying the same thing about the same person. Nothing has changed, because person and tense are authorial preferences, only.

All three are in the VIEWPOINT of the narrator. All there are whet we call TELLING. All three are dispassionate reports. No reader cares about what was said because they don’t want an info-dump of data ABOUT the protagonist. They want to know what matters to him in the moment HE calls “now.” Story, not history. If it matters to him in analyzing or deciding what to do about what has his attention then it matters to the reader. If it matters to you, who cares? You’re not in the story or on the scene. And changing tense or person the narrator uses changes that not at all. What you think of as telling a story in first person isn't how a professional writer views that act.

Story happens, it’s never talked about. As soon as you try, you’re clobbered by the fact that the reader cannot know how you would read the lines. And punctuation is far too general to give more than what you’ll hear if you have your computer’s narrator program read it to you. That, by the way, is an important editing tool, one I use as the third from the last before releasing any novel. It picks up places where punctuation is inappropriate, words are missing or ill-chosen, and more. Use it to hear how different what a reader gets is from what you hear when you read. I think you'll be surprised.

• As for one sentence one subject, yeah I missed that when I reread it.

You will always miss it because it’s obvious to you. You come to the page already knowing the story, the characters and their backstory. So anything you leave out is filled in as you read. But when you use the techniques of fiction, and write in the protagonist’s viewpoint, taking into account what matters to him in deciding how to react, you’ll always get it right. Viewpoint is critical to how the reader views the scene. A person’s perception of the situation is the mother of every word and action. So how can the reader understand their actions if they don’t know the scene as the protagonist does?

I'm sure you’ve seen how two politicians discussing some event can appear to be talking about entirely different events, because their viewpoints differ so much. Think of a lover’s quarrel. It’s said to have three sides: His side, her side, and what really happened. It would seem therefore, that our job is to show what really happened in an interesting and exciting way. And at every writing workshop where I've mentioned it, everyone agreed. But they were dead wrong. Our job is to show what the protagonist BELIEVES happened. That justifies their mistakes and successes. And it means that when the protagonist says, “Oh my…I was wrong,” so will the reader.

This article might help you better understand what I mean. It shows how multiple people viewing the same scene, will interpret if differently, based on their viewpoint.
https://jaygreenstein.wordpress.com/2011/09/22/the-grumpy-writing-coach-8/

• but to me it presents the smallest issue, and it's highly debated from what I saw.

First, no one cares what the issue of tags means to you. When the work is in the hands of the reader, you, and everything about you is irrelevant. The reader has no access to your intent. The inflection to the words is what punctuation suggests to them. And the meaning is what the words suggest to that reader, based on THEIR background, not yours. And you're not there to clarify.

If you consider an issue that will have you rejected before the end of page one small, perhaps it is. But as someone who owned a manuscript critiquing service, I advised my clients against it. because tagbookism is a guaranteed rejection.

The ONLY way around your problems to place the reader into the protagonist’s viewpoint, so they know the scene exactly as that character does. Remember, after your protagonist acts or speaks, the one who will learn of the result of that first is the reader. They know what happened before they read of the protagonist's. So that reader must either react as the protagonist does, or there will be no emotional impact—which is what the reader FEEDS on. And the only way to make the reader do that is to make them know what matters to the protagonist, in real-time. So every time you, as the narrator, talk to the reader you kill any momentum the scene may have,along with any sense of reality.

To see what I mean, Look for the trailer to, "Stranger than Fiction, on YouTube. It shows what SHOULD happen if the author steps onto the scene. It;s a film only writers can truly appreciate,

There are no shortcuts to success, other then not looking for shortcuts. And there is zero chance that you, having none of the techniques and special knowledge of the field, will magically create what the reader will see as professional quality work. I know you’ve worked hard on this, and that I have, in effect, called your favorite child ugly. I know you’re emotionally invested in this, as I was in the novel I submitted for a professional critique back in the 1990’s. So I know how you feel. But It’s not a matter of making a whoops on line one Look just down the page:

• He never thought that it would be like this.

In all the universe, only you know what “this” is. So to a reader, someone they can’t hear, in talking about someone they know nothing about, just compared that unknown person's current unknown situation to their unknown expectations. What can that mean to the reader?

• Absence of light from the outside made it clear it was late into the night.

You just used 15 words to say, “It was still dark.” 😂
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I didn’t critique the opening of those two paragraphs to hurt you. My point is that you cannot fix having used inappropriate writing techniques by rewording, even if it’s not your fault. You NEED to read that book, or some like it (Debra Dixon’s, GMC: Goal Motivation & Conflict is more at your level, but it’s not as good, and not free). The same thing that causes the problem in the opening is in play there, and everywhere.

You want to be a writer. That's great, and I wish you success, First, though, as in any profession, you must become one. There's no guarantee that after all the work done while learning those skills you’ll be great, any more than learning a musical instrument will make you successful. But failure to master the necessary skills in any profession is pretty much a guarantee on not achieving success.

It may seem that I’m trying to discourage you. Far from it. I’m trying to help you avoid the trap that most hopeful writers fall into. Fully 75% of submissions to a publisher are from people who, like yourself, weren’t aware that they needed more than school-day writing skills. Publishers call them unreadable. Of the remaining 25%, all but three are deemed unprofessional.

My point? Learn and perfect the necessary skills and you’re ahead of 97% of the people trying to become writers. Fail that and you’re not even in the game.