I was greeted by Zenaris' slight, almost friendly smile.
- So, you ready for practice?
- Yes," I answered, trying to hide my slight agitation.
We headed towards the training arena. Zenaris, as always, was generous and paid the entrance fee, allowing me to go first. Once inside, I felt a thick, energized atmosphere that made my blood start to pound in my temples. Everywhere I could see fighters practicing on the range - some were practicing blows on dummies, others were clashing with each other, trying to show off their skills. The hall was crowded, which made me wonder if we'd have enough room for a full training session.
When Zenaris handed me the training wooden sword, I gripped it tighter than necessary and headed towards him. Taking my stance, I waited for his first instructions. Zenaris carefully assessed my stance and grip, adjusting the angle of my sword. Then he took a step back and nodded slightly, inviting me to fight.
We exchanged light blows at first. I could feel him smoothly parrying my attacks, as if he were playing with me, but it allowed me to warm up and get into a rhythm. Soon my muscles warmed up, and I began to move faster, feeling confident. The blows came more often, harder, but each time they met his sturdy defenses. None of my attempts to break through it were successful.
Then I decided to use my magic trick. With my muscles saturated with mana, I sped up, intending to surprise him. Zenaris's smile faltered slightly, and I think I succeeded: he stopped defending and went on the offensive. Everything changed at once. I realized I was going to have to give it my best.
His speed was incredible. Even my magic vision couldn't keep up with his movements, and it was impossible to anticipate his next move. I tried to dodge, to use various maneuvers, but he, as if anticipating every move, easily parried my blows and dodged my counterattacks. I tried to challenge him with a sudden lunge and quickly duck under his side, but Zenaris met me with a precise and powerful kick to the face, throwing me backwards. My face flamed with pain, but it only spurred me on.
- Pull yourself together," he threw, noticing my emphasis.
I saturated my body with mana again, deciding to go all-in. I attacked with fury, building up my momentum, as if I had forgotten everything but my goal. At the climax, I made a desperate maneuver-jumped, let go of his sword, and, while he was fending off the flying weapon, I ducked under his side, determined to strike with my fist. Zenaris was slightly surprised, but managed to block the blow with his sword in time, pushing me to the floor in a powerful motion. That was my defeat.
- Unexpectedly," he said, helping me up. - You've gotten stronger. I think you have talent.
I felt uncomfortable with his words. I knew it was just a magic trick, not a true power or talent. I nodded, but I didn't want to disappoint him.
- I have a question," I said, feeling it was the right moment.
- Huh? Ask," he replied, softening.
- It's about your kind. Are you an aristocrat?
Zenaris laughed, but not with mockery, more like mild surprise.
- Ha! Not at all. We're not aristocrats. Bladewind is a swordsman's clan, nothing more.
- What has your family been famous for?
- We have our own style of swordsmanship, the wind style. We serve the King of Grimslein in part, but we are not aristocrats.
- So you're teaching me this style?
- More like the basics. So far, you've only learned the basics of swordsmanship.
By the name of the style alone, I already had an idea of its essence: swift, continuous movements like wind, blows that penetrate with precision. But a new question arose: why would an heir of noble swordsmen want to become a mercenary?
- Why did you become a mercenary? - I asked cautiously, not sure if I should broach the subject.
Zenaris looked away, his face changing slightly.
- It's... too personal. In a nutshell, I'm not satisfied with the life of a Bladevind swordsman.
His answer sounded muffled, and I realized it wasn't worth pursuing the subject further. We went back to training, and he tweaked a few of my moves, showed me how to be more effective in combat.
- Now take two hundred swings," he said, attaching the weight to my sword.
I froze dumbfounded, but soon realized that there could be no refusal. By the fiftieth swing, my muscles were burning like fire. By the hundredth, I could barely hold the sword. Zenaris clapped me on the back, encouraging me to continue, and I clenched my teeth as I saturated my muscles with mana and continued.
When I was done, he gave me a short break and then showed me a dummy, indicating where I should strike. He explained that the priority was vital points. I struck the dummy furiously, imagining him to be the enemy, a barbarian from the Frousal army, and with each blow it was as if I was avenging all my wrongs, my weakness. I must become stronger. Stop being someone who is easy to defeat.
Finally, we had a final duel. I was exhausted, my strength was almost gone, and soon after the fight began I could not keep up. Soon we went to a tavern, ordered a hearty lunch, and began to enjoy a well-deserved rest, discussing the fight and recalling the good moments.
On the fifteenth day, Goliath, Michael, and Helen finally returned with supplies and new equipment. Zenaris told them at once about our training and how I had grown stronger over the days. Goliath squinted his eyes at me, and I could tell by the look on his face that he was eager to test me in battle. He suggested a duel, and the group and I headed toward the training arena. He wouldn't be wearing armor this time, which gave me a drop of hope-perhaps without the bulky armor, it would be easier for me to hit him. Still, I felt fear: without the heavy armor, Goliath would be even faster.
As we entered the arena, my heart thumped faster. Our duel had begun. I immediately felt more confident on my feet and better able to read my opponent's movements. But Goliath, massive as a rock, towered over me, and it was not easy for me to break through his defenses. Each of my blows was met only by his hard chest and arms, and when I tried to get around him, he turned with frightening speed. Seeing that I couldn't reach him otherwise, I lunged, aiming for his side-but suddenly his elbow came at me, and I was thrown to the ground like a rag doll. The noise in my head was drowned out, and the world swam before my eyes.
Helen ran over to me and helped me up. I saw that she was saying something, but I heard only a vague hum. Gradually my hearing returned, and Goliath's voice cut through the noise:
- You really have gotten stronger, Alex. Almost as fast as Zenaris. I no longer see the boy we found in the guild, but a true warrior!
- I'm a long way from Zenaris's speed," I muttered, still feeling the pain in my chest and head.
Despite the praise, I felt a bitter residue. One blow had brought me to the ground. Goliath was really strong, and I was just a gnat in his eyes. Shame mixed with anger, but I decided to keep my cool and keep practicing.
When we got back to the arena, group training began. I grabbed my sword and headed towards Michael. I didn't use magic saturation this time and decided to fight him on equal footing. We exchanged blows, our duel lasted longer than I expected and neither of us yielded. I resisted the temptation to use magic, realizing that it wouldn't be fair to Michael.
When we were both finally exhausted, Helen called out that it was time for dinner. We went to the tavern, where we ate a modest dinner and went to our rooms. As soon as I closed the door behind me, fatigue set in, but the silence of the room brought a welcome calm. I went to the window and looked out at the evening city: the sun was gone, and the orange light of the candles lit in the houses was streaming through the streets.
After hesitating, I squeezed my hand, concentrating mana, and summoned a small flame in my palm. The fire flickered, but after a few seconds I put it out, feeling the intense heat. I had learned how to control fire over the days, finding ways to fuel mana, and could now create a flame in a matter of seconds. An ordinary townsfolk would probably be frightened by this sight, and perhaps I would be considered wicked. But a gift is a gift. It had been given to me for a reason, and I had to learn to use it, not waste it.
The weeks merged into one endless day, with only short breaks for sleep. Every morning started the same way: get up, workout, lunch, workout again, dinner, and then back to the room. The next morning, it was the same thing all over again. This monotonous rhythm was exhausting, as if I was in Groundhog Day. I wanted to go to the dungeon, not only to exercise, but also to see what I could do. But all I could do was wait for the command.
In an attempt to break the chain of monotonous everyday life, I decided to take a walk around the city. The chill of the night enveloped me, and I couldn't help thinking that I would soon need winter clothes. As I wandered the streets, I glanced at the lighted windows, catching glimpses of how the townspeople lived. A bar appeared in the distance, and I decided to stop in and sample the local drinks. As I made my way toward the place, muffled voices came from the dark alley.
When I turned around, I saw three men surrounding the woman, their intentions seemingly malevolent. One of them was holding her arm insistently, and the others were compulsively suggesting something to her, as if they were forcing her to do something. Fueled by a sense of justice, I approached one of them from behind and grabbed him sharply by the neck, hoping to strangle him and put him out of the game. The others, however, quickly noticed me, and the fight was instantaneous. One of my attackers punched me in the shoulder, forcing me to step back and release the victim of the grab. Moving into a fighting stance, I began to remember Klimt's lessons. Now I was in for a real fight, no favors.
The man with the sudden movement tried to hit me, but I ducked and immediately punched him in the face. The next second I was hit in the side from behind, and I staggered, but I felt the adrenaline rush. The enemy lurking in the shadows grabbed my arms, depriving me of my freedom of movement. While one of the villains was punching me in the chest, I concentrated my mana in my legs and with a powerful kick I broke free, shoving them both a few steps away. We rolled on the ground, and I managed to hit the attacker again and again until he lost consciousness.
At the same moment, a strong foot struck me in the back of the head, and despite my attempt to dodge it, I was hit hard on the nose. My head spun around and my legs gave out, but my anger took over. Turning on my magic vision, I began to see the mana in every movement and gathered all my strength. It was enough to defeat the remaining two: I could feel their every blow, but I didn't give them a break until they were on the ground.
Breathing heavily and feeling the pain in my chest, I wiped the blood dripping from my nose and turned to the woman:
- Are you all right? What are you doing here so late?
- Thank you, boy," she replied calmly, as if the attack hadn't frightened her in the least. - But I'm not a 'girl', I'm a grown woman," she said, a slight sneer in her voice. - I was looking for my son. Looks like he's been hitting the bars again.
- You'd better go home," I advised, feeling uncomfortable. - I think your son will come back on his own.
We split up. I didn't realize I'd confused her age, probably because of the darkness.
Feeling pain in every step, I made my way to the bar. At the counter, I decided to try a beer, ordering one glass. The sip tasted bitter and pungent-it was something completely new. I had never tasted alcohol in my previous life and had no idea what it tasted like, so I decided to finish the glass only because I had already paid for it. When I went outside, I felt a little dizzy, and I wondered if I was intoxicated or if it was just self-induced. I slept like a dead man that night, forgetting all the training and fights.
...
The next morning, as everyone was getting ready for training, Zenaris finally announced:
- Preparations for the raid are complete.
We spent a little less than a month on it, but we all felt ready. We soon met a young monsterologist from the Bestiary who introduced himself as Roland. His thick green hair immediately caught my eye, but he seemed to be used to it.
- Don't be alarmed, it's a consequence of an encounter with one of the monsters," he grinned.
Roland proved to be friendly and made conversation easily. The journey to the dungeon would take four days, so we were all laden with provisions and gear. The heavy hiking backpacks were pressing on my shoulders, reminding me of the times I had carried sacks with Klim and Falco.