"Now, on the positive side," Greaves continued, "you do have good instincts. Your reactions, while untrained, were quick. Your physique is excellent—I’d say among the best I’ve seen in years, actually. Natural athleticism, good proportions for swordwork. You look like a hard worker, I hope you are."
He t Yamamoto’s eyes directly. "The question is: are you willing to start from the beginning? To unlearn bad habits and build proper foundations? Because that’s what you’ll need to do. It won’t be glamorous. It won’t be quick, but if you commit to it, I can make you into a real swordsman. If your answer is no, then you have no place here."
That was awfully brutal and raw, but Yamamoto didn’t mind. His pride was a bit bruised, but pride wasn’t a particularly useful skill in life and death battles, so he did what anyone with a few brain cells and above would do—drop his pride aside and get ready to learn.
"I’ll commit," Yamamoto said. "Whatever it takes."
Greaves studied him for another long mont, then nodded slowly. "Five gold a month, paid in advance, if you wish to continue after the first month. Training is six days a week, three hours per day—you can choose morning or evening sessions. You follow my instruction exactly. You practice the drills I assign even when you’re not here. You show up on ti, and you give maximum effort every single session. If you slack off, you’re out. If you disrespect the training, you’re out. If you think you know better than , you’re out. Understood?"
"Understood."
"Good. You’ll start tomorrow morning, first bell after dawn. Bring water and be prepared to sweat. We’re going to rebuild you from the ground up." Greaves turned to walk away, then paused. "Oh, and Yamamoto?"
"Yes, sir?"
"That physique of yours? The one I said was excellent? It won’t an anything if you don’t learn to use it properly. Stats are just numbers. Technique is what transforms them into power. Rember that."
"I will, sir."
Greaves nodded and moved off elsewhere, leaving Yamamoto standing alone in the training circle.
Around him, the other students had returned to their practice, though he caught a few of them glancing his way, though he couldn’t be sure what they were up to in their discussions and minds.
Across the hall, Caius was practicing forms, his movents precise and controlled. This guy was supposed to be Level 6, but was worth a few Yamamotos in actual combat.
The gap between ga knowledge and real skill had never been more obvious.
Yamamoto sighed after he took a deep breath, setting the matter aside for the ti being.
With nothing left to do there, he spent so ti around watching as the others trained, picked up a few different swords, then went back for the day.
...
The next day, Yamamoto arrived at the sword school early, only to find the training hall already occupied. A dozen students were running through warm-up exercises—stretches, footwork drills, practice swings. The sound of wooden swords cutting through air filled the space with a rhythmic whoosh-whoosh-whoosh.
Yamamoto couldn’t help but think how serious all these people were. If there were so many people who had mastered the sword in the future to co, perhaps the ga or perhaps the challenges to co, wouldn’t be so difficult.
’In the end, stats are still as important—’
"You’re on ti. Good. Grab a practice sword—the longsword, and join the warm-ups. Follow Kelvan’s lead." Greaves said, walking past him out of nowhere.
Kelvan turned out to be the sa student with Greaves during the registrations.
He looked younger, perhaps late twenties or early thirties, competent looking. He nodded at Yamamoto without much interest as he joined in, and returned to his exercise which the rest including Yamamoto followed.
The warm-up routine was deceptively simple—basic cuts from various angles, footwork patterns, stance transitions... But maintaining proper form for twenty minutes straight left his shoulders burning and his legs slightly wobbly.
When the warm-ups finished, Greaves called the students to attention.
"New faces today. This is Yamamoto—self-taught, level 8, joining us to learn proper foundations. So of you are lower level but better skilled. Use that as motivation." His gaze swept the group. "Everyone pair up. Standard drill: attack and defense rotations, five minutes each, then switch partners. Focus on precision, not speed. Begin."
The students dispersed into pairs. Yamamoto found himself matched with a young woman, maybe seventeen, who introduced herself as Lyra. For one, she looked quite pleased to be paired with him. She was level 5, a Swordsman class like him, and moved with the casual competence of soone who’d been training for years.
"Don’t worry," she said with a smile. "Master Greaves pairs new students with experienced ones for the first few days. Just follow the drill pattern—I’ll attack, you defend with proper form. Ready?"
"Yes."
Well, of course, she proceeded to dismantle his defense with thodical precision.
Every attack was telegraphed clearly, giving him ti to react, but his responses were mostly wrong, so the advantage wasn’t of much help.
"Reset your stance after each parry," Lyra corrected patiently. "You keep leaving yourself open. See? There—your left side is completely exposed."
By the ti they switched and Yamamoto took the attacking role, he was already exhausted. His attacks, even slowed for the drill, were clumsy compared to Lyra’s elegant efficiency.
When the session ended three hours later, Yamamoto could barely lift his practice sword. Lyra was going to engage him in discussion, but seeing Greaves approach, she disappeared to do sothing else, making Yamamoto wonder if there was so kind of secret rule he wasn’t aware of.
"Good first day," Greaves said, not unkindly. "You’ve got a lot to unlearn. We’ll start with stances tomorrow—the absolute foundations. For now, practice what Lyra showed you. Two hundred reps of the basic guard stance before bed."
"Yes, sir," Yamamoto managed.
As he left the dojo, every muscle screaming, he opened his status screen out of curiosity.
[Skill Mastery: Two-Handed Swordsmanship - Apprentice Rank - 22%]
"Urhh... One training session and it jumped that much?" Yamamoto thought to himself, very intrigued. ’This is bound to be fun.’
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