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 me. "In this world, a sword is not merely 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."
