The following days passed in the same cycle of suffering. A warm-up of a thousand swings in the morning, followed by an endless battle that always ended in a crushing defeat.
Week after week went by, turning the season from scorching heat to cold rain.
A month later, Rian felt a real change. The mana flow in his arm was now as steady as a calm river, making each of his swings feel sharper, heavier, and more powerful.
And yet, he still couldn't touch Bebegig. Not even a single hair.
His frustration reached its peak. He sat under a tree, his wooden sword lying beside him, staring blankly into the distance.
"What can I possibly do to beat that creature?" he muttered, his breath heavy. "He's as flexible as a caterpillar, dodges like a possessed squirrel, and hits like a landslide. This is impossible."
"Are you giving up?"
Bebegig's voice suddenly sounded behind him, calm and emotionless. Rian turned, his tired eyes meeting his master's.
"Gramps, what else do you think I need to improve? I've done everything you've told me to. I regulate my breath, I focus my mana, I can even predict some of your moves. But still… I can't touch you."
"Your will," Bebegig answered simply.
Rian frowned. "My will? I train until I'm half-dead every single day. Isn't that enough?"
"Your will is still shallow," Bebegig continued, his eyes sharp. "You train to become strong, but you haven't answered the most important question: for what purpose do you seek that strength? Think about it carefully. Now, go wash up in the river. Calm yourself, and reflect on your purpose. While you're at it, find us some dinner."
The command felt like a dismissal, but Rian understood. This was part of his training. He nodded and walked toward the forest.
His movements were now nimble and in tune with nature, leaping from branch to branch as if he were born there. As he moved deeper into the woods, the familiar roar of a savage monster thundered, shaking the trees.
Without hesitation, Rian shot toward the sound. From the top of the highest branch, he saw a shocking sight: a giant Troll, bigger than any he had fought before, locked in a fierce battle with a Wyvern. Claws and fangs clashed, creating deafening booms.
The memory of Catty's death flashed through his mind like a lightning strike. Her mangled face, her severed telepathic scream, and the guilt that burned his soul. His eyes narrowed, filled with a cold, simmering vengeance.
"I don't care how fast its wounds heal. I'll kill it."
He glanced at the Wyvern, a winged creature whose scales shimmered like jewels.
"Gramps said a Wyvern is stronger than a Troll. But that doesn't matter."
Without a second thought, he cast his blue fire spell. His sword ignited, radiating a heat that made the air around it tremble. He charged them both.
With the help of the wind magic he now commanded, his leap was as fast as lightning. As the Troll was busy enduring a blast of fire from the Wyvern, Rian appeared from the side like a shadow. He didn't attack with brute force, but with a precision forged by a thousand defeats.
One decisive swing, infused with focused mana, slashed across the Troll's neck. The giant's head was severed from its body before it could even make a sound.
He then planted his foot on the still-warm corpse of the Troll, launching himself toward the stunned Wyvern. With a single, clean vertical slash, he split the winged creature in two.
The fight was over in three seconds.
Rian landed lightly on the ground, surrounded by a sudden silence. He stared at the two monster corpses, confused.
"Why… why was this Troll so weak? And this Wyvern… it wasn't as strong as Gramps described."
He scratched his head, completely unaware that it was he who had become so much stronger.
"Oh, they must have been tired from fighting each other. Yay, lucky me!"
With that positive thought, he dismissed the possibility that it was his own true strength. As he cut the best meat from both monsters and placed it in his Storage, he started grumbling again.
"Why is that bossy old master so hard to touch, anyway? It's so frustrating."
After cleaning himself in the river, he returned to the treehouse. Bebegig was sitting leisurely, sipping tea, as if he had been waiting for him.
"Hey, Gramps, I ran into a Wyvern and a Troll fighting earlier. But they weren't as strong as you said. They went down with a single slash. Was it because they were already weak?"
Bebegig sipped his tea, a faint, meaningful smile playing on his lips.
"Yes, that might be it," he replied, knowing full well that a fight between those two monsters could last a full day before they were truly exhausted.
"So, will you defeat me tomorrow?" Bebegig challenged, his eyes glinting.
Rian straightened his back, his gaze as sharp as steel.
"Of course! I'll do it, even if it takes me a thousand years to beat you!"
"Foolish boy," Bebegig said, then let out a hearty laugh, his raspy voice echoing through the trees. "I won't live that long."
Rian fell silent, looking at the old man. It was the first time he had seen him laugh so freely. Unconsciously, the corners of his own lips lifted into a smile.
The next day, at the same training ground, Rian was already waiting. He had completed his thousand warm-up swings.
"Let's go, Gramps! I'm ready!" he shouted, full of energy.
From the treehouse window, Bebegig smiled.
"Yes, in a moment."
The morning wind swirled around them, shaking loose dry leaves that danced to the ground as if they were silent witnesses. In the middle of the root-filled field, master and student faced each other, their stances as solid as the giant trees that surrounded them.
"Are you ready?" Bebegig asked, his voice calm but laden with challenge.
"Ready, Gramps," Rian replied, his breathing even, his eyes sharp.
"ATTACK!"
The command echoed, signaling the start of the fight.
Unlike usual, Rian didn't charge in immediately. He closed his eyes for a moment, focusing his mana until it felt like a warm river flowing from his chest, spreading to his arms and legs. With a single smooth exhale, he shot forward. The push from his legs was so powerful that the ground beneath him cracked slightly.
His sword came from above, slashing toward Bebegig's head with a force that far surpassed any previous day.
CLANG!
Bebegig parried it, but he felt a powerful vibration run up his arm. He dodged with a fluid motion, but his eyes betrayed his surprise.
'Good. This speed and power… Now, what else will you do?' Bebegig thought, a faint smile on his lips.
Rian dropped low, using the momentum to launch a sweeping kick. He predicted Bebegig would jump, and just as he thought, his master leaped lightly into the air. Rian was ready, slashing his sword from right to left. Bebegig parried it in mid-air, countering with a jolt that sent Rian's wooden sword flying.
A solid blow landed on Rian's head once again.
"A good idea to use your leg to set up your prediction. I like that. Continue." Bebegig praised, a clear note of pride in his voice.
"One more time! I won't fail this time!" Rian shouted, his spirit burning even brighter.
He repeated the same movement, advancing quickly and swinging his sword from above. As Bebegig prepared to parry, Rian suddenly changed the pattern. He spun, his leg aiming for his master's waist. Bebegig managed to block it, but Rian pressed his leg against the wooden sword, using it as a pivot to reverse direction and launch a kick with his other leg.
The relentless chain of attacks forced Bebegig to focus more. The smile on his face sharpened.
As Rian's second kick was blocked, Rian supported his body with one hand on the ground while his other hand slashed from below. As he predicted, Bebegig jumped back. This was the moment Rian had been waiting for.
He focused the mana in his left hand that was supporting him, then pushed himself upward like a spring. He flew through the air, attacking from above with lightning speed. Bebegig still managed to dodge, but this time, he wasn't quite fast enough.
The tip of Rian's wooden sword managed to touch the skin on his master's shoulder, leaving a thin, white scratch.
Silence.
Bebegig took a step back and let go of his sword. The wooden weapon fell to the ground with a soft thud.
"You win, Rian," he said, pointing to the scratch on his shoulder.
Rian stood frozen for a moment, processing what had just happened. Then, he leaped high into the air, his fist punching the sky.
"FINALLY! I DID IT! YES!"
"It's just a scratch, so why am I so proud?" he muttered to himself, then nodded firmly. "Yeah, because this was really hard. I deserve to be proud."
"Don't get too proud yet," Bebegig interjected, his tone firm again. "You've only managed to touch me, not defeat me."
"Yes, bossy old Gramps! What's next?" Rian asked, a grin stretching from ear to ear.
For the first time in a long time, he felt truly alive.