The forest air was still as Kaelen finished his evening meditation beneath the tall trees that surrounded Razen's hut. A cool breeze drifted by, rustling the leaves above, and the faint buzz of energy hummed in the distance from nearby storm clouds.
Razen stepped out of the shadows, his voice calm yet firm. "Kaelen… come with me. Sit here."
Kaelen stood and followed him to a smooth stone beside the fire pit. "Why are we sitting now?" he asked, confused.
Razen didn't answer immediately. He tossed a small stick into the flames, watching the sparks rise into the sky before he finally spoke.
"Did you know… that after the second phase of this exam, if you pass, you'll become a full ninja? And as tradition demands—every ninja must choose a weapon to master."
Kaelen nodded slowly. "Yes… but I thought that came later. There's still time, right?"
Razen turned to him, his eyes sharp as lightning. "Not for you."
Kaelen blinked. "What do you mean?"
Razen's tone grew heavier. "You will start now. Because I am going to teach you the secret sword techniques—passed down from my lineage… and your ancestors."
Kaelen's heart pounded. "Secret techniques? Of my ancestors?"
"Yes," Razen said, standing. "Your bloodline comes from the Thunder Sword Bearers—the elite warriors who fought not with brute force, but with chakra-infused speed. Their blades moved faster than the eye. They didn't just strike—they vanished and reappeared mid-swing."
Kaelen stared at the flames, unsure whether to feel excited or afraid. "But… why now? Why so early? I haven't even finished chakra mastery yet."
Razen turned, his voice colder now. "Because something is coming."
Kaelen's face tensed. "What? What are you talking about?"
Razen looked toward the dark horizon.
"A storm that hasn't risen in centuries is about to return. I don't know how or when… but in a few years, this village—this world—will face something only the old legends remember."
Kaelen stood up, startled. "What kind of storm? An enemy?"
"You'll know when it comes," Razen said. "All I know is this: you will be at the center of it."
Silence hung between them for a moment, broken only by the soft crackle of firewood.
Finally, Razen pointed to a large cloth bundle lying by the tree. "Unwrap that."
Kaelen walked over and untied the knots.
Inside was a massive sword—nearly as long as Kaelen was tall. Its blade was wide, dark, and rough—uncut by polish or ornament.
"This… this is huge!" Kaelen exclaimed, struggling to even lift it off the ground.
"It's the heaviest blade I could find," Razen said. "You'll train with this until you can move it at the speed of lightning."
Kaelen groaned as he barely raised the hilt. "This is impossible. I can't even lift it properly."
"You will," Razen replied. "Every day, you'll swing it. Carry it. Balance it while meditating. Infuse it with chakra. It will become your spine, your shield, your soul."
Kaelen looked at the blade again. Though heavy and crude, it gave off a strange pulse—like a sleeping beast waiting to awaken.
He took a deep breath and stood straight. "Alright. I'll start now."
Razen smirked for the first time. "Good. If you can swing that sword fast enough, you won't need a second strike."
As Kaelen raised the sword again, his arms trembling under the weight, the sky above them rumbled with distant thunder—almost as if the ancestors were watching.
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