If Ethan thought his life at the academy had been cruel before, calling Reno "Master" plunged him directly into hell.
The next morning, before the sun had even risen, Reno hauled him out of bed.
"From this day on, you have no name. You are an apprentice. Your life is training, and nothing but training! Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir!"
"Good. Now, run twenty laps around the entire West Training Grounds. If you don't finish, you don't eat today!"
Ethan glanced at the training grounds, which seemed to stretch on forever, and felt his legs begin to tremble. One lap was at least three kilometers. Twenty laps was sixty kilometers.
And that was just the warm-up.
When Ethan, legs about to give out, finally completed the run, what awaited him was the mountain-like weight of the training sword.
"Listen up, boy. A sword is an extension of a warrior's life. Before you learn a single technique, you must first become one with it," Reno's voice was devoid of emotion. "Ten thousand basic swings. Each one with all your strength. Imagine your mortal enemy is standing before you! If you slack off even once, the count doubles!"
*Ten thousand!*
Ethan's head spun. But he didn't complain. He just gritted his teeth and lifted the sword, which still felt incredibly heavy.
"Hah!"
He put all his might into the first swing, which produced a faint whistle.
Reno stood before him like an iron tower, watching coldly. "You're not using your hips. Your arms are too stiff. Your stance is weak! That's not a swing, that's chasing ducks with a stick! Again!"
Ethan took a deep breath, trying to recall Reno's movements, and swung again.
"Useless! How many times do I have to tell you? Power comes from the ground, is channeled through your core, and is finally unleashed through your arms! You're swinging with your arms, not your body! Again!"
"Idiot! Where are your eyes? The tip of the sword is your eye! Again!"
"Garbage! You can't even hold the sword steady! Go hold a horse stance for three hours!"
For the entire morning, Ethan repeated the same simple motion countless times, but not once did he satisfy Reno. Sweat soaked through his clothes, his muscles screamed in agony, and the rough hilt of the sword had rubbed his palms raw and bloody. By noon, he didn't even have the strength to lift his arms.
Reno tossed him a rock-hard piece of black bread and a waterskin. "Eat. You have thirty minutes. Then we continue."
In the afternoon, the training became even more brutal. Reno made him stand on a row of swaying wooden posts while practicing his swings, a test of not only his strength but also his balance. The slightest mistake sent him tumbling into a pit of mud below.
By the end of the day, he was completely covered in mud, every inch of his body aching. When he dragged his leaden feet back to Reno's spartan room, his master was already waiting. He pointed to a large wooden barrel in the corner.
"Get in."
The barrel was filled with a steaming, black medicinal bath that gave off a pungent odor. Ethan gritted his teeth and submerged himself.
"Aaaargh—!"
A scream of pure agony tore from his throat. The concoction felt like boiling lava, searing every tiny cut and exhausted muscle on his body.
"Endure it," Reno's voice came from the side. "This is a body-tempering formula passed down in my family. For a beginner like you, it's the best thing. If you survive, you'll find your body is different tomorrow."
Ethan bit down so hard he thought his teeth would crack, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the rim of the barrel. He was "stewed" in that horrific bath for a full hour before Reno allowed him to get out, feeling like he had died and come back to life. Reno then handed him an even fouler-smelling ointment. "Apply this, then get to sleep."
Lying on the hard wooden bed, Ethan felt like his life had never been so bleak. He even began to question if he had made the right choice. But whenever he closed his eyes, Viktor's mocking face and the humiliating image of himself convulsing on the ground would flash in his mind.
*No! I will not give up!*
That burning indignation became the sole fuel that kept him going.