The air in the courtyard was still. The morning sun was warm, shining on the polished ground where Rudura stood with his wooden sword. Sweat was already running down his forehead, dripping into his eyes, but he didn't blink. He stared at Malavatas.
His master stood opposite him, calm as a rock. One hand behind his back, the other holding a wooden sword so lightly it almost looked like a feather in his hand. His face didn't change, his breathing didn't change—he was just there, unshaken, like time itself couldn't touch him.
Rudura tightened his grip. His little hands were shaking, not because of fear, but because of the weight of the sword and the fire in his chest.
"Master…" Rudura's voice was low but steady. "This time… I will land a hit."
Malavatas raised an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips."Come, Rudura. Show me what you've built."
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Rudura's small feet hit the ground as he rushed forward. His sword cut the air— swish! He swung down hard, his whole body behind the strike.
But— clack!
Malavatas moved just enough. A flick of the wrist, and the swords met. The sound rang sharp in the quiet courtyard. Rudura's arms buzzed with the shock, his palms burning, but he didn't stop. He twisted, pulling his blade back and slashing sideways.
Whoosh!
Again, Malavatas leaned back, the tip of the wooden blade missing him by a finger's width.
"You're faster," Malavatas said calmly, stepping aside like he was strolling through a garden. "But speed without patience is fire without wood. It dies quickly."
Rudura gritted his teeth. His heart pounded— thump! thump! thump! He couldn't stop now. He stabbed forward, short and sharp, aiming for Malavatas' chest.
Malavatas tilted his sword down gently, and the tip of Rudura's weapon hit the ground instead.
The boy's eyes widened, but he instantly spun and slashed upward. The strike carried all his strength, his breath tearing out of his chest.
This time, Malavatas blocked. The wooden blades locked, and Rudura pushed with all his strength. His arms shook, his legs trembled, his teeth clenched hard. For a moment, it looked like he could push through.
But Malavatas' arm didn't move. His wrist was steady. His expression didn't even flicker. He was like a mountain.
Wave 2 – The Barrage
Rudura pulled back, breathing heavy. His chest rose and fell like a hammer. But he didn't let his master's calmness break him. He adjusted his grip and charged again.
Swish! Swish! Swish!
Slash from the left. Blocked.Slash from the right. Dodged.A thrust. Parried with ease.
Every move was met with a sound.
Clack! Tap! Clack!
The sound of wood against wood echoed like a drumbeat. Rudura spun his small body, trying to use speed to outmaneuver Malavatas. His feet scraped the ground, dust flying up in little clouds.
But Malavatas moved like water. Every motion was smooth, gentle, unforced. Sometimes he didn't even need to block—he just stepped aside, and Rudura's sword cut only air.
"Again!" Rudura shouted, sweat dripping down his face.
He swung diagonally— whoosh!—Malavatas tilted his head and let it pass.He stabbed low— thud!—Malavatas shifted his foot, letting the blade scrape harmlessly against the ground.He jumped forward with all his strength— clash!—Malavatas' sword stopped him like an unmovable wall.
Rudura's arms screamed with pain, but his eyes stayed sharp.
Wave 3 – Desperation
His breathing grew ragged. His small chest rose and fell too quickly, lungs burning. But still, Rudura's fire wouldn't die.
He tried to trick his master now. He feinted left—Malavatas didn't move. He slashed right—Malavatas simply leaned his shoulder away.
"Too obvious," Malavatas said quietly.
"Damn it!" Rudura cried. His voice cracked, his throat raw.
He rushed forward one last time, his tiny feet slapping against the ground. Thud! Thud! Thud! He attacked wildly now—cuts from every direction, desperate thrusts, spinning slashes.
The sound of wood filled the courtyard.
Clack! Clack! Tap! Tap! Clack!
Malavatas blocked each one with no effort. His sword moved only when needed, precise and calm. Rudura looked like a storm, wild and fierce. Malavatas looked like the eye of that storm—untouched.
Finally, Rudura swung down with everything he had. His arms screamed, his back bent, his teeth clenched so hard it hurt.
CRACK!
The swords collided. Rudura pushed. His muscles trembled, his body shook, but Malavatas stood there, steady as the earth.
Then Malavatas spoke, his voice deep, steady, unforgettable.
"A sword is not about how hard you swing it, Rudura. It's about how calm your heart is when you hold it."
The words struck harder than the clash of the swords. Rudura's breath caught. For a second, the fire in his chest felt confused—did he need to burn brighter? Or steadier?
Malavatas ended the clash in the next heartbeat. He gently pushed Rudura's sword aside, then placed his own wooden blade straight down.
The sword touched the ground softly, almost like he was bowing to it. Then, with his free hand, he simply placed two fingers on Rudura's chest and pushed.
Rudura fell back onto the ground, his sword slipping from his hand. Dust rose around him, and his little chest heaved up and down as he gasped for breath.
For a moment, he lay there, staring up at the blue sky. His body was tired, his arms heavy, but his eyes still burned. Slowly, he sat up, his hand brushing dirt from his cheek.
"I… lost," Rudura admitted. His voice was quiet, but it carried no shame. Only fire. "But one day… I'll make you use your full strength."
Malavatas looked at him. His eyes weren't mocking—they were proud. Proud of the boy's spirit.
"You've already taken your first step," Malavatas said, his tone soft now. "But don't run faster than your legs allow. Even the sun rises slowly."
Rudura nodded, his fists clenched tight. Inside his chest, his thoughts swirled.The end-year test… I'll prove myself there. No matter what. I'll show them all I can stand on my own two feet. I'll get my answers. I'll get my freedom.
As Malavatas extended a hand to help him up, Rudura didn't hesitate. He grabbed it, stood tall again, and picked up his sword.
The fight was over, but his journey had just begun.