Chapter 6.1: Right on Track part 2
The technique was evolving through trial and error, guided by instincts I couldn't fully understand.
Then, on the second night, the final night of Ghislaine's stay, my frustration peaked, and something shifted.
I had been training for hours, my mana nearly depleted and my muscles aching.
The training dummy before me was scarred from a hundred failed attempts. The wood was splintered and cracked where my strikes had landed.
I felt the instinct rising again. That other presence that sometimes took control of my movements.
But this time, instead of fighting it, I let go. Fighting it had never given me control.
The surrender was strange. Like stepping back from my own body, giving something else permission to move it.
I felt my grip on the sword change, my stance adjust, my center of gravity shift in ways I couldn't have directed consciously.
My body moved without my direction. Mana flowed through patterns I hadn't consciously created, gathering at the base of the blade, and then releasing in a single explosive pulse.
The sword screamed through the air.
For a single instant, the blade was invisible. A line of light cutting through the darkness.
Crack.
The training dummy split in half. The cut was so clean the pieces didn't fall immediately.
They hung in the air for a moment. Reality itself hadn't yet registered what had happened.
Thud.
Then they tumbled to the ground, the wood inside perfectly smooth, unmarked by splinters or rough edges.
I stood there, breathing hard, staring at what I had done.
It wasn't the true Longsword of Light. The speed had come from mana, not from pure physical ability.
But the effect was similar. A strike too fast to see, a technique that could end a fight before the enemy knew it had begun.
And I had no idea how I had done it. The instinct had taken control, moved my body in ways I couldn't replicate consciously.
Whatever knowledge lived inside me had guided the mana through patterns I didn't understand. I tried to repeat the technique immediately.
Failed. Tried again, failed again.
My mana was nearly exhausted, and the presence that had guided me was gone, retreated back into whatever corner of my mind it called home.
But I had felt it. For one moment, I had been more than myself, had touched something beyond my normal abilities.
I would find that presence again. Learn to call upon it intentionally, master the skills that lived inside me without my permission.
Because the disasters I remembered were coming. And when they arrived, I would need every advantage I could claim.
The morning of Ghislaine's departure, I found her waiting for me, outside my father's smithy.
She stood motionless in the early light, her massive sword strapped across her back, her beast ears twitching slightly as she detected my approach. There was no aggression in her posture, but no warmth either.
Just the stillness of a predator who had all the time in the world.
"Show me," she said without preamble.
I didn't ask how she knew. Beastfolk had senses beyond human capability.
Perhaps she had heard the training dummy shatter from across the village. Perhaps she had smelled the mana burning in the night air.
"I can't control it," I admitted. There was no point in lying to someone who could probably detect deception through my heartbeat alone.
"Show me anyway."
We walked to my training ground in silence. She moved without sound, her footsteps leaving no trace on the forest floor.
I found myself unconsciously trying to match her stealth, adjusting my own movements to minimize noise. She noticed, of course.
One ear flicked in my direction.
Amusement? Her expression gave nothing away.
The clearing showed the evidence of my night's work. The split dummy lay in pieces on the ground.
Other dummies bore the marks of failed attempts, deep cuts that hadn't quite achieved the speed I was seeking.
Ghislaine examined the split dummy with professional interest, running a clawed finger along the cut.
"Mana-based," she said. "Clever and dangerous, yet inefficient."
"I know."
"The true Longsword of Light requires no mana." She straightened, her golden eyes fixing on mine.
"Touki. The sword becomes an extension of your life force, not your magical reserves. Pure physical speed enhanced by fighting spirit, that is what makes the technique work."
She ran a claw along the split wood. "What you did was a cheat. A shortcut. Mana burns out. Touki sustains. In a prolonged fight, your approach would leave you exhausted, while a true practitioner could strike a hundred times without tiring."
"I know that too."
"Then why pursue it?"
The question caught me off guard. I had expected criticism, perhaps even dismissal.
Not genuine curiosity about my motivations.
"Because I can't produce Touki reliably," I said slowly. "The knowledge is there, I can feel it, but my body doesn't respond the way it should. The skills I possess come and go without my control. If I can create something functional through mana enhancement, even if it's inferior, it's better than waiting for an ability that might never stabilize."
Ghislaine studied me for a long moment. Her expression remained unreadable, but something in her posture shifted slightly.
"Can you do it again?"
I took my stance, gripping the practice sword with hands that refused to shake. Reached for the presence inside me.
Nothing. Just my own clumsy abilities, nowhere near the speed I had achieved the night before.
The knowledge that had guided my mana was gone, leaving only the memory of what I had accomplished.
I tried anyway. Pushed mana into the blade, attempted to recreate the patterns I had felt the night before.
The sword moved faster than normal, but it was a pale shadow of what I had achieved under the presence's guidance.
Ghislaine studied me for a long moment. "You have potential," she said finally.
"But potential without control is worthless. Train. Learn. When you can call upon that speed, at will, you might become something worth fighting."
She left without another word.
I watched from the forest edge as she returned to the village. Within the hour, she and Rudeus departed for Roa, the Sword King escorting the boy who would become tutor to a young noble.
He looked back once toward the village that had been his home, before the road curved, and took them out of sight.
Sylphy found me later that afternoon, her eyes red and swollen. She didn't speak, just sat beside me in the clearing, and stared at the empty road.
I couldn't offer her comfort. We both knew he might never return.
After she left, I stood alone, staring at the ruined dummy, and made a silent promise.
I would learn control. Would master whatever strange abilities lived inside my mind.
Not for pride or recognition, but for survival. For the people I meant to protect when the world ended and began again.
The path ahead was unclear, but the destination was certain. I would become strong enough to matter when the disasters came.
Whatever it took.
◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ AUTHOR'S NOTE ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆
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