The days blurred into a relentless cycle. My body ached constantly, a deep, persistent throb in every muscle. Herald was an unforgiving teacher. He pushed me beyond anything I thought possible, beyond my physical limits, beyond my mental endurance. The underground hideout, once a place of fear, was now my crucible.
My training had moved beyond basic swordsmanship. Herald was now focused on teaching me how to manipulate mana directly with 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, a conduit for raw power.
He would demonstrate, holding his simple steel sword. A faint, almost invisible shimmer would appear along its edge, a subtle aura of mana that made the blade seem impossibly sharp. "The blade is merely 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."
