Hearing what Maelis had instructed. Riven began. Adjusting his stance - he put his feet shoulder-width apart, knees bent slightly, before placing the sword in-front.
The wooden sword felt heavier than before. It was as if the space had increased it to match reality.
"Better. Now swing."
Raising the blade above, Riven exhaled.
Swish
The air rippled as he swung down, feeling his forearms engaged.
"One."
Maelis echoed in the space softly.
"Again", he repeated.
Swinging down once more, Riven began to feel it pile.
"Two."
The count rose, each time the period of one strike to another getting longer. At this point, time was hazy.
The only constants was Maelis' count and the pain across Riven's body.
"AGH!", Riven exhaled.
"Thirty-five".
The space seemed to mimic the effects of reality, but it gave Riven enough energy each strike to continue.
"AGHH!", he huffed, out loud.
"Thirty-five", Maelis repeated.
"What was wrong with that one?!", Riven shouted, huffing in the process, confused at what happened.
"You're letting your shoulders sag and you're not following through... Again.", he replied coolly in the grey, dim space.
'Ahh'
Riven thought.
Instead of complaining; getting in position once more.
'Everything hurts!', he thought. His legs getting weak, as his chest burned. 'Focus Riven'.
Time continued...
"Fifty-five", Maelis uttered in the same neutral voice.
"H-how much longer", Riven huffed.
"Till I say so", Maelis immediately echoed.
'....'
"Continue", he followed.
Drip Drip
"AGH!"
"Fifty-Five".
Under the same count, this time Riven didn't argue the decision. He slowly began to realise what was a good swing, and what wasn't.
"Seventy-nine."
Gritting his teeth, his vision blurred on the sides.
The movements got slower, and slower. But Maelis didn't rush, he demanded a perfect swing, to instil it in his mind.
"One hundred".
Echoing the 100th swing, Maelis' voice faded into the grey.
Riven raised the sword again. And again. There was no more count. Everything disappeared. There was only the sword, his hands, and the rhythm generating between them.
The ache burning in his chest, his shoulders. The pain in his hands as he grasped the blade.
None of it mattered anymore.
Swing. Breathe. Swing. Breathe.
That was all he knew now. His already grey eyes, dulling further.
His mind drifted far away. Memories, worries - they all blurred into the mist.
Even Maelis, who observed him throughout, felt distant.
In that emptiness, the blade remained, and it seemed to fill the gaps.
His fears, his anger, the confusion of being reborn; he let that all go, as a quiet peace washed over.
Swing. Breathe. Swing. Breathe.
The blade cutting through the silent air, whispering to him....was comfort enough.
Maelis watched silently, arms folded as Riven swung again and again in this grey field.
His expression - unreadable.
Neither of them could tell how much time had passed, but after a while Maelis stepped forward.
Swing. Breathe. Swing. Breathe. Sw-
Placing a firm hand on Riven's trembling shoulder, "Enough.", he proclaimed.
As soon as his hand touched Riven, the grey field shattered. The scenery returned to the dojo's dim wooden interior, along with the smell of the incense.
'Huh....'
Riven thought, his eyes glazed over as he struggled to stand. His body swayed forward, sweat dripping down his head; hair clinging to his face. The muscles he had, remembering they existed, as they exploded with pain.
Before he could register the touch on his shoulder, his knees buckled under him. His mind clouded.
Thud
His body tasted the wooden floor, the faint scent of incense surrounded him as his view faded to black.
The last thing he heard was Maelis' sigh.
"Too much for one day, huh?", he uttered, before silence swallowed everything.
-----
Warm orange hues slipped through the cracks of the window as Riven's eyes twitched, fluttering open not long after. The ache in his head throbbed like a drum, each beat reminding him of the rhythm he'd created as he swung his arms in the empty expanse.
He blinked slowly, adjusting to the glow of dusk that filled the room. The ceiling greeted him first, before the scent of a broth floated in the air.
'How long was I out?'
Riven wondered, posturing up as he realised he had been lying atop a futon on the floor. Posturing the rough blanket to the side, he sat up slowly as his body ached.
'..?', intrigued by the smell in the air, Riven looked towards the edge of the room, spotting an unmistakable Maelis, sitting before a metal pot rested atop a burner. It seemed he stirred the contents lazily, his violet hair still tied back, wearing lighter, grey robes.
"You're awake", Maelis stated without needing to turn around.
Clearing his throat, Riven looked over: "How long...was I out?", he asked.
Turning his head back slightly, "Half a day", Maelis replied, his voice ever so neutral. "Long enough time for me to finish a book and think about what to eat...", he continued.
The bubbling of the pot could only be heard as silence stretched between them.
Finally, Maelis poured some broth into a bowl, walking over and placing it in-front of Riven.
'Clink'
"Eat. Your mind was strained, and your body needs to eat".
Looking at the broth, he picked it up, "..Thanks". Sipping the liquid warmth, questions filled his mind as he filled his stomach.
"Why did I faint", he asked Maelis, his voice rough but curious.
Sitting a few metres away, Maelis met his gaze with a knowing look. "The strain wasn't just physical. Your body was pushed beyond its limits", he stated, taking a sip of his broth.
Gulp
"..But it's your untrained mind; the core of your being, that gave out".
Leaning forward, his voice lowered to a serious tone that Riven had yet to see. "Training like that, especially inside that illusion world, puts tremendous stress on your mental state. It forces you to focus so intently, that the boundaries between your mind and reality begin to blur".
"Not everyone's mind can handle that kind of stress so quickly", he continued, before smiling faintly. "It's a good sign however", he said, confusing Riven a bit.
Seeing this, Maelis chuckled, "It means you're pushing yourself where most wouldn't. But you must learn to pace yourself, or you'll burn out. Without control, you'll break".
Hearing this, Riven nodded, letting that information sink in.
"So...this is just the start right?"
"Mm", Maelis replied. "It's going to get harder. But you've took the first step of understanding the core of Null Edge: the art of letting go."
Riven struggled to sit up any longer, exhaustion hitting him, Maelis went over to steady him.
"Now, rest. Recover. And we'll go again".
---A few days passed---
Riven trained tirelessly, balancing the training in the real world and the mental one. His body was pushed to the limit by Maelis. Undergoing a slight physical transformation as he was whipped into shape through multiple exercises like planks, squats and endless swings of his sword.
In the mindscape, time moved slow, allowing him to endlessly practice movements, while the real world forged his strength and endurance.
One afternoon, Maelis called him over, staring at Riven as sweat drenched his clothes, whilst he panted on the wooden floor.
His forearms, once slender and soft now pulsed with tight lines of muscle, alongside faint, red bruises where Maelis had knocked wood against them, to correct his stance. His legs felt like lead as he lied there, but they were noticeably sturdier than days before - the quivering and shaking no longer from weakness, but also from the growth that was subjected to them.
Huff huff
Wiping his forehead with the back of his wrist, shaking away the sweat, his eyes met Maelis'.
"Not bad kid", Maelis said, "It seems you're ready to train under the 3 core principles.", "Stand up", he followed.
Standing up slowly, Riven's legs trembled softly, before he regained stability.
"...What's the 3 principles...", Riven asked Maelis in between breaths, his face seemingly prepared after days of forging his body.
Maelis chuckled lightly, "Listen kid, Null Edge is more than just a sword technique.", he paused, studying Riven. "There are 3 core principles you must master: The Cut, The Step and The Hold."
Picking up a blade to the side, he began to gesture some actions:
Slicing through the air,
SWISH
"The cut is your offence".
Shifting smoothly, he bent his knees into a crouch, "The Step is movement - its how you control the space, how you disappear and reappear".
Finally, he postured up, shoulders hunkered forming a slight shell, with blade angled downwards, "The Hold is your defence. Steady for stance, and absorb what is thrown at you".
Riven stared, his muted, grey eyes over the days; getting brighter, holding more value.
Nodding his head, "When do we start?", he asked cheekily, to Maelis amusement.
"Right now."
Something was changing.
--C(50)P(4)D(10)- 2 Days till Orientation--
Whoosh, Clack, Clack
Gusts of wind poured into the dojo's interior, as the winds clattered on the open blinds.
It was night-time. Standing in the darkness were two figures. Shadows danced around them; the dim lantern light flickering.
Faced against one another....the silence was palpable.
On the right was a tall figure, hair tied in a loose knot, strands of purple catching the moon's glow. He held his wooden sword leisurely, resting it upon his shoulder in a cozy manner.
The opposite, was the shorter half. Back straight, shoulders squared with determination. Gripping his sword loosely, his calloused hands unmoving; knuckles pale. His dark eyes looking ahead, unwavering. He took slow exhales, each time revealing the steadiness in his breath.
Where once his posture was hesitant. Searching. Now it carried the vibrations of a swordsman's composure.
The taller man tilted his head slightly, a faint smile dancing on his lips as he raised his eyebrows.
"Show me everything you've learnt, Riven."