** Two days before the challenge
The humid air of the training room clung to my skin as I moved at high speed, navigating through the obstacles of the mobility course. This section of the training was designed to simulate difficult natural terrains: tall, twisted trees, moss, uneven rocks, wet soil, and fallen leaves. Each step required precision and control, and I pushed myself to maintain the pace, using my warrior abilities to advance toward the finish line.
It was then that the tallic sound of a dagger cutting through the air alerted . I dodged to the side, feeling the cold blade graze my neck.
"Faster!" Lesley's sharp, firm voice echoed through the room.
She was sowhere in the shadows, invisible and unpredictable. Her footsteps made no sound, and I could barely distinguish her from the trees around . Another dagger appeared, this ti from above. I rolled forward, feeling the impact of the blade embedding itself into the ground behind . My heart raced, but I forced myself to take a deep breath and focus.
In a burst of internal energy, I accelerated my steps again. The sound of my movents echoed like thunder, too loud, announcing my position.
"If your goal is to announce your arrival wherever you go, you're succeeding!" Lesley corrected , her voice cutting.
Balancing the energy flowing through my veins, I slowed down, trying to reduce the noise my footsteps made. I leaped over a large rock and, with a quick kick, launched myself to the top. A small trail between the trees separated from the finish line.
'The energy must explode within the muscles, but in the feet, it must be controlled!' I repeated ntally, trying to find the speed and smoothness Lesley had shown earlier.
I was far from reaching my top speed, but that wasn't the goal here. The challenge was to move as quickly and stealthily as possible. Taking advantage of the shadows of the trees, I quickly slipped along the edge of the path. Whenever my feet landed on a rock, I sent a small flow of prana and mana to my lower limbs, trying to regulate the impact of my steps.
"Agh..." I groaned as a dagger pierced my arm from behind.
I increased my speed slowly, trying to find the balance between running and making no noise. When I finally reached the end of the course, Lesley was staring at with a stern look. Knowing what was coming, I threw myself onto the ground, arms spread, panting and with my heart racing.
This training was physically lighter than any other in the body training sections, but it was the most exhausting in terms of ntal focus and energy control.
"Still below reasonable," she began her lecture. "Your steps are inconsistent, and although your energy control has improved a lot, the synchronization between internal energy and noise suppression with prana in your legs is still terrible."
"Yes, master!" I exclaid in acceptance.
"There are monts when you step first and muffle the sound afterward, sotis you muffle before stepping, and on rare occasions, you actually manage to suppress the noise of your steps with energy."
"It's very difficult to harmonize the flow of internal energy in the lower limbs at the different speeds we use in the course," I argued.
"You're still too analytical. This isn't a practice you should be overthinking in this training. Here, you should be using your djinn traits to the fullest, letting your instincts guide you."
"Alright, let's move to the weapon combat section," Lesley didn't wait for to get up and headed toward the sparring area.
**
I had been training with the two types of swords selected by Lesley for five days, and the results were impressive.
On the first day, my body struggled with the weight of the weapons, the way to move, how to react, the range, and how to harmonize agility and power. But a few hours were enough for to understand why these weapons had been chosen.
One fact I didn't know was that Lesley was a combatant known as a master of weapons. Since her childhood, her family had trained her in various combat arts, and she was impressive.
Our swords clashed with an impact that reverberated through my arms, reaching a stalemate. I planted both feet firmly on the ground, feeling the rough texture of the soil under the soles of my boots, and pushed my Great Sword downward with a muffled grunt.
The wide, heavy blade trembled under the pressure, but the difference in initiative clearly favored . Lesley, holding her lighter longsword, didn't have the sa weight to sustain the clash. Her muscles tensed as she resisted, but she soon gave in, taking a step back to relieve the pressure.
Seizing the mont, I advanced with a firm step, holding the Great Sword with only my right hand. The heavy blade seed to almost float in my hand, as if the montum of the movent carried it on its own. With a quick, precise horizontal slash, I directed the blade toward her torso, the air hissing as it was cut by the sword's edge.
Lesley, however, was as quick as a shadow. Her eyes narrowed, and with a fluid motion, she dodged to the right, letting my blade cut only air. Before I could regain my balance, she had already counterattacked. Her sword shone like lightning, a barrage of high-speed thrusts that seed to co from all directions at once. Each strike was precise, deadly, and I could barely keep up with the frenetic pace.
My heart raced, but there was no ti to hesitate.
Instinctively, I pulled my sword back close to my body, using the flat side of the blade as an improvised shield. The sound of tal against tal echoed through the training room, each collision sending small sparks that briefly illuminated the space between us. The force of her strikes pushed back, but I maintained my stance, feet firmly planted, knees bent to absorb the impact.
She was relentless, and I knew I couldn't stay on the defensive forever. The mont there was the slightest pause in her attack sequence, I seized the opportunity. With a fluid motion, I spun my body, pivoting on my left foot and launching a powerful spinning strike toward her shoulders. The sword cut through the air with a roar, the centrifugal force adding weight and speed to the blow.
Lesley, however, was no ordinary opponent. Her reflexes were as sharp as the blade she wielded. She leaned at an impossible angle as the sword passed over her, cutting only air once again. Before I could finish the movent, she was already back in position, a sly smile on her lips.
"You're improving," she admitted, though her posture remained impeccable. Her hair hadn't even been ruffled.
She advanced again, this ti with a more calculated attack. Her sword glead in a perfect arc, aid at my flank. I blocked with the middle part of my blade, but she quickly changed the angle, aiming for my leg. I jumped back, feeling the wind of the strike pass dangerously close.
The exchange continued, with her pushing to a new limit every second. In a final exchange, our movents intertwined, a deadly dance of steel and technique. The training room seed to disappear around us, the world reduced to the sound of my labored breathing and the gleam of our blades.
Finally, after a long period of combat, our swords locked in a stalemate. This ti, however, neither of us yielded. Our eyes t, and for a mont, there was a respectful silence. We both knew I hadn't lost this round. It was a draw, proof that my efforts were paying off.
A draw with Lesley was like ten victories for , who still left the body training room with countless bruises and broken bones.
"Very well, we'll et again in your combat training this afternoon!" she said, leaving the hall.
"Phew... just thinking that I'll still have to face her using only magic, my happiness diminishes," I murmured as I prepared for the next challenge.
Reviews
All reviews (0)