Mudrel lay unconscious on the dusty floor, his broadsword discarded. Herald stood over him, still, his presence a heavy, undeniable weight in the hideout. His demonstration had been clear: he was on a level I could barely comprehend. My own training sword felt like a toy.
"You are improving, Disciple," Herald stated, his voice flat. "But you are still a Novice. A beginner."
I grunted, pushing myself to my feet. My muscles ached from the previous sparring session. "I understand, Master. But what does it take to ascend? To move beyond Novice?"
Herald turned, his gaze fixed on . "In this world, a sword is not rely steel. It is an extension of the wielder’s mana, their will. The path of a Sword Knight is one of constant ascension, through what we call Sword Realms."
He began to explain, his voice devoid of emotion, yet each word carrying imnse weight. "There are eight recognized Sword Realms: Novice, Apprentice, General, Master, Sword Sage, Sword Prince, Sword Saint, and Sword Sovereign." He paused, his gaze distant. "Beyond that, so legends speak of a Sword God realm, but no one has ever ascended it. It remains a theoretical peak, a myth."
My mind absorbed the information. Eight realms. And Herald was a Sword Sovereign. That ant he was at the absolute pinnacle of known sword mastery. It put his power into terrifying perspective.
"I, myself, am a Sword Sovereign," Herald stated, confirming my deduction. "The path is long, arduous, and often solitary. Each realm demands more than just physical strength. It demands a deeper understanding of mana, of the blade, of oneself."
"You, Disciple, are currently a Novice. Your raw strength and agility are high, thanks to your unique signature, but your understanding of mana manipulation and true swordsmanship is rudintary. To ascend to the Apprentice realm, you must achieve three things."
He held up a finger. "First, you must temper your body to be able to wield D-tier sword techniques. These techniques are beyond the physical limits of a re Novice. They demand a body that can withstand imnse mana flow and physical strain."
He held up a second finger. "Second, you must learn how to manipulate mana against your blade. Not just for defense, as I’ve shown you, but to imbue your weapon with offensive capabilities. To make your blade an extension of your mana, not just your muscle."
He held up a third finger. "And third, you must learn all three D-tier sword techniques. They are the foundational skills for any true Apprentice. Master them, and the realm will open to you."
My mind raced. Tempering my body. Manipulating mana directly onto the blade. And three D-tier techniques. It sounded like a monuntal task, especially with the Academy exam looming.
"What are these D-tier techniques, Master?" I asked, my voice steady.
Herald’s eye, which had been shut, opened slightly, a faint, ethereal glow emanating from it. The mana density in the hideout increased, pressing down on , making my lungs burn. He didn’t need to speak. The information flowed directly into my mind, a sudden, overwhelming influx of knowledge, complete with visual demonstrations.
The first technique was Mana Sheath. It involved channeling mana directly to the blade’s edge, making it sharper and more durable. I saw it in my mind’s eye: a shimring aura along the edge of the sword, allowing it to cut through tougher materials, or deflect stronger blows with ease. It was a versatile technique, both offensive and defensive.
The second was Impact Burst. This was a focused mana release upon striking. I saw a sword blow, seemingly ordinary, suddenly explode with concussive force upon impact, capable of staggering opponents, breaking through their guards, or even shattering weaker defenses. It was a direct, offensive application of mana, designed for raw power.
The third was Flowing Defense. This was a defensive technique where mana was subtly channeled throughout the body and blade. It enhanced parries and dodges, making movents more fluid, more resistant to impact. It was about redirecting force, about becoming a current in the river of combat, rather than a rigid dam. It promised increased agility and resilience.
The information flooded my mind, then receded, leaving gasping for air, my head throbbing. Herald’s eye closed again, and the mana density lessened, allowing to breathe properly.
"These techniques require precision, Disciple," Herald stated, his voice flat. "And a body capable of handling the mana flow. Your current physique, while improved, is still insufficient for sustained use. We begin with tempering."
And so, my training entered a new, even more brutal phase. Herald’s thods for tempering the body were unlike anything I had ever imagined. He didn’t just push with physical exercises; he pushed with mana. He would create subtle mana currents in the air around , forcing my body to constantly adapt, to resist, to strengthen its mana pathways.
He made run laps around the underground chamber, but with invisible mana weights pressing down on my limbs. He made hold impossible stances for hours, my muscles burning, while mana currents flowed through my body, forcing my mana core to expand, to refine the manex it absorbed. He made ditate for long periods, not just to absorb mana, but to consciously direct it through every vein, every muscle, every bone, strengthening my physical form from the inside out.
The pain was excruciating. My muscles constantly scread, my bones ached, and my mana core felt like it was being stretched to its absolute limits. There were tis I wanted to collapse, to give up, to simply lie on the dusty floor and never move again. But Herald was relentless. He never showed pity, never offered comfort. He simply watched, his gaze unwavering, pushing further, always further.
"Your body is a vessel," he would say, his voice calm, yet utterly definitive. "If the vessel is weak, the power will shatter it. Temper it. Make it worthy."
My diet changed. Mudrel, under Herald’s strict instructions, prepared als specifically designed to aid in mana cultivation and physical recovery. They were bland, often consisting of nutrient-rich, earthy vegetables and lean, tough ats, but they provided the necessary fuel for my grueling regin. I ate, slept, and trained. My world shrunk to the confines of the hideout, to the relentless pursuit of strength.
The days blurred into a monotonous cycle of pain and progress. My body, once relatively soft, began to harden. My muscles beca denser, more resilient. I could feel the mana flowing through with greater ease, a constant hum of power beneath my skin. The initial discomfort of Herald’s mana currents lessened, replaced by a subtle, almost invigorating pressure. I was tempering. My body was adapting. It was becoming a stronger vessel, capable of handling greater mana flow.
Herald then introduced the second aspect of my training: manipulating mana against my blade. This was different from simply channeling mana for defense. This was about imbuing the blade itself with mana, making it an extension of my spiritual energy.
He would demonstrate, holding his simple steel sword. A faint, almost invisible shimr would appear along its edge, a subtle aura of mana that made the blade seem impossibly sharp. "The blade is rely a tool, Disciple," he would explain, his voice flat. "The mana is the true edge. Learn to project your will onto the steel. To make it sing with power."
He made practice for hours, sitting cross-legged, holding my training sword, trying to feel the mana, to guide it from my core, through my arm, into the blade. It was frustrating work. At first, nothing happened. Then, a faint flicker, a brief shimr that vanished as quickly as it appeared. Herald would watch, his gaze unwavering, offering terse corrections.
"Focus, Disciple. Feel the connection. Do not force it. Guide it."
Slowly, painstakingly, I began to make progress. The faint shimr on my blade beca more consistent, more vibrant. I learned to control its intensity, to make it appear and disappear at will. It was a subtle, yet profound, shift in my understanding of mana. My blade was no longer just steel; it was becoming a conduit, an extension of my mana.
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