Three months had passed since the beginning of my training, and in that time, I had not only hardened my body but also delved deeper into my experiments with **Echelon Resonance**.
Those long, quiet nights of practice had given me more than just calloused hands and sore muscles — they had brought revelations. Three of them, in fact.
The first revelation challenged everything the old resonance book claimed. According to the text, *vey'l* — the inner energy that fuels resonance — is fixed from birth. You can't increase it, no matter what you do.
That, as it turns out, is complete nonsense. After weeks of steady use and experimentation, my vey'l had improved significantly. I could now sustain resonance for far longer than before. The difference was like the trickle of a stream becoming the steady rush of a river.
The second revelation concerned chanting. The book insisted it was essential for resonance casting — that without the spoken words, the technique would fail. But I found that chanting was nothing more than a crutch. The truth? You only need to remember the *feeling* of each echelon. The words make it easier, yes, but they are far from necessary.
And finally, the third: emotions. The book described them as the "spark" that ignites resonance. Again, not strictly true. Strong emotions can help, just as a tailwind helps a ship, but they aren't required.
Over the months, I had tested every echelon I could access. The ones that felt most natural to me were **Shadow & Darkness**, **Matter**, and **Flow**. Oddly enough, I also had a knack for both **Pulse** and **Thought**, though neither came as instinctively. Some elements, however, stubbornly refused to work with me — *Flame* and *Snow*, for example. No matter how many times I tried, they simply would not answer my call.
With all these discoveries, I needed somewhere to record them. Richard — my father and teacher — granted me a sturdy leather-bound notebook without much fuss. It felt good to see my observations take shape in ink, each page becoming a record of my growth.
Today marked the final day of my body training. Tomorrow, Richard had promised, my **swordsmanship training** would begin.
---
#### The Next Morning
The early sun stretched across the backyard, turning the dew into tiny beads of light. I stood there with a short sword in hand, the weight unfamiliar but not unpleasant. In front of me, Richard stood tall and relaxed, his eyes sharp as steel.
"Now," he began, "before we start, I'll give you a quick rundown on swordsmanship."
I straightened, attentive.
"There's something called *Sword Resonance*," he continued, "which is the act of altering your body's frequency to strengthen it. But more than that, there are four main styles of swordsmanship."
He raised a finger. "First, the **Dragon Breathing Style** — aggressive, fast, and relentless. It favors agility and unyielding offense."
A second finger joined the first. "Second, the **Shadow Dance** — an adaptive style. Not just for swords, but other weapons as well. It's full of misdirection and trickery."
The third finger rose. "Third, the **Style of the First Emperor** — defensive, made for withstanding heavy blows and tanking hits."
And finally, the fourth. "Fourth, the **Style of the Phoenix** — a hybrid style that focuses on magic as the primary weapon, with the sword as support."
He crossed his arms. "All four styles share the same ranks: Beginner, Intermediate, Advanced, Master, Grandmaster, Saint, Emperor… and finally, God."
I nodded, absorbing the information, then raised a hand. "Two questions. First, what's wrong with our family name? And second, which style do you practice?"
Richard chuckled, though his expression carried a smirk. "I don't know ask your grandfather side note he's dead"
I smirked, but he continued without pause. "As for your second question: I'm ranked Saint in Shadow Dance, and Advanced in the other three."
He stepped forward, gesturing to my sword. "Now, let's start. With a sword, you can pierce and slash. There are eight directions to attack from: up, down, left, right, up-left, up-right, down-left, and down-right. You'll need to master all of them. After that, we'll move on to feints and guard types."
---
We trained until the sky bled into night, the moon watching silently as my arms ached and my stance wavered. That became our rhythm — day after day, month after month, steel clashing in the backyard.
Eight months later, Richard lowered his blade and said simply, "Arthur, your training is complete."
I blinked. "Huh?"
"I don't know enough about Sword Resonance to teach you further," he explained. "When I return, I'll bring you a proper tutor."
"When you return?" I asked cautiously.
He sheathed his sword. "I'm going on a mission. It could take anywhere from half a year to a year and a half."
My grip tightened on the short sword. "But… my first birthday is only a month away." My voice rose without meaning to.
"No buts," he said, his tone suddenly edged with the weight of command. "This is an order from the Emperor himself. Tomorrow morning, I leave."
---
#### The Next Day
The air felt heavy as we stood by the gate. Richard turned to my mother. "I'm sorry, Erza. You'll have to keep our little warrior out of trouble until I return."
She smiled faintly, though her eyes betrayed worry. "Go, darling. Be safe."
I forced a grin. "Goodbye, Father. Make sure you bring me something from the capital."
His lips curved in a smirk. "I'll remember that."
And just like that, he was gone — his silhouette swallowed by the road ahead.
I watched until the dust of his departure settled.
"Please," I whispered to the empty air, "be safe, Richard."