The evening sun bathed the Watanabe residence in soft, golden light. The air smelled faintly of incense and aged wood, a comfort that carried memories of decades past. Kenji Watanabe had just returned from a long day at school, his mind still occupied with the lessons he had learned about cultivation, realms, and his grandfather's cryptic promise.
As he entered the main hall, the familiar smell of tea and parchment greeted him. But tonight, there was a new tension in the air—one that wasn't just routine. His grandfather was standing near the far end of the room, an object wrapped in a heavy, worn cloth cradled carefully in his arms.
Kenji froze.
"Grandpa…?" he asked cautiously.
The old man's eyes glimmered, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Kenji," he said softly, "tonight, you will receive something that belonged to me when I was your age. Something I trained with… something I fought with."
Kenji's heart quickened. He had trained with many wooden weapons, staff and practice swords, but this—this felt different.
His grandfather carefully laid the cloth on the polished wooden floor. With deliberate hands, he unwrapped it, revealing a long, elegantly crafted weapon. Its body gleamed faintly under the light, etched with subtle, intricate runes. At first glance, it appeared to be a sword—but as the light caught its edges and the shaft, Kenji realized it was more than just a sword.
"It can be a sword…" his grandfather said, placing it carefully into Kenji's hands. The weight was perfect, balanced. "Or… with proper grip and skill, it can be used as a spear. I designed it to serve both purposes. It adapts to its wielder."
Kenji's fingers wrapped around the hilt, feeling a strange warmth, a subtle vibration as though the weapon itself recognized his grip.
"It's incredible," Kenji whispered.
His grandfather nodded. "Yes. But it is not the weapon alone that matters. The wielder makes it great. And strength… strength makes it unstoppable.
Kenji's grandfather gestured for him to sit. "Let me tell you something important," he said. "Many martial artists rely on their war spirits or life spirits to fight, to protect themselves. They believe that the spirit alone determines their victory. But I have seen many warriors, gifted with powerful spirits, fall because their bodies were weak."
Kenji listened intently, recalling his own struggles to awaken his Dragon War Spirit.
"The strongest spirit cannot carry a weak body," his grandfather continued. "A war spirit without a solid foundation of strength is like a blade without an edge—sharp in appearance but powerless in battle. That is why you must continue refining your physical strength, Kenji. Strength and spirit must coexist, complement each other. Only then can you become truly unstoppable."
Kenji nodded, absorbing every word. His grandfather had fought countless battles, achieved mastery few could dream of, and now he was sharing the wisdom of decades.
His grandfather leaned closer, lowering his voice. "With this sword, your path can take a new direction. If you combine its versatility with your growing physical strength, it will not just be a weapon—it will become an extension of your body, your will, your power."
He paused, letting the words sink in.
"This sword… or spear… is unique. In skilled hands, it can challenge anyone, even the best swordsmen in our region. But only through practice. Only through relentless training can it awaken its full potential. With dedication, you could surpass me. Perhaps even surpass all others in this land."
Kenji's pulse quickened. "Surpass… you?"
His grandfather chuckled softly. "Yes, Kenji. That is why I am giving it to you. I want you to be stronger, wiser, and faster. To see the limits of what a martial artist can truly achieve. And to one day wield a weapon that is not just powerful—but legendary.
Kenji rose slowly and held the sword properly, testing its weight and balance. It felt alive in his hands, perfectly tuned to his body. He felt an unfamiliar sense of responsibility, the awareness that this was not just a gift—it was a legacy.
"You must treat it with respect," his grandfather advised. "Not as a toy, not as a symbol—but as a partner. The more you practice with it, the more it will respond to your strength, your rhythm, your intentions. And one day, it may even surpass me, if you have the patience and the will."
Kenji nodded solemnly. "I understand, Grandpa. I'll train hard.
His grandfather stepped back, allowing him space. "First, learn the sword. Learn the spear. Feel how the weight responds, how each movement flows. Do not rely on your spirit, not yet. Let your body become perfect. Let your muscles, tendons, and organs resonate with every strike."
Kenji gripped the hilt, testing a swing. The blade sang through the air, the sound crisp, cutting through the evening stillness. He adjusted his stance, shifting his weight, and thrust forward.
His grandfather nodded approvingly. "Good. The first lesson is awareness. The second is patience. The third… comes only when your body is ready."
Kenji paused to breathe, holding the sword vertically before him. "Grandpa… how long does it take to reach that level? To master it?"
His grandfather smiled faintly, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. "Time is relative, Kenji. For some, it takes years. For others, decades. But the path is always the same: body, will, and spirit. Strength comes first. Then the spirit may guide you. Only when both exist in harmony will you wield power unmatched by others."
Kenji felt the weight of those words. He realized that his journey was far from over, and this weapon was not simply a gift—it was a test, a challenge, a beacon pointing toward the next stage of his cultivation.
His grandfather's eyes softened as he continued. "Imagine this, Kenji. A warrior who wields not just power, but precision. Who moves with strength, fluidity, and intent. Your body must be like water—flexible, adaptable. Your mind must be calm. And your spirit… disciplined. If you can integrate these, the sword will not merely cut flesh—it will cut through the very intent of your opponent. It will respond to your thoughts before you even think them."
Kenji's chest tightened. He could see it now: the potential of the weapon, fused with his growing strength. It was more than a blade or a spear. It was a path to mastery, a symbol of his journey, and perhaps a key to surpassing even his grandfather.
The old man leaned closer. "One more thing, Kenji. Many warriors fail not because of weakness, but because they fear surpassing their mentors. You must never fear growth. If this weapon becomes stronger than me in your hands, it is a triumph, not a betrayal. Strength must be shared, not hoarded. Understand this."
Kenji nodded, swallowing hard. "I understand. I'll train without fear."
His grandfather placed a hand on his shoulder. "Good. You have promise. But remember—power is meaningless without control. Discipline and patience are as important as speed and strength. Wield this sword with respect, with care, and let your body and spirit grow together. Only then will you become a legend in our region.
As night fell, Kenji began his first session with the weapon. He practiced strikes, thrusts, sweeps, and spins, alternating between sword and spear postures.
The weapon felt like an extension of his body. Each motion tested his muscles, tendons, and balance. Each swing forced him to adjust, refine, and understand the subtleties of leverage and weight distribution.
He practiced tirelessly, sweat dripping from his forehead, body humming with exertion. Even without invoking a war spirit, he felt power and precision intertwining.
By the end of the night, his arms ached, his legs shook, but his body had learned something: potential was real, and the path ahead, though long, was worth every step.
As Kenji returned the sword to its resting place, his grandfather stood quietly in the doorway.
"You've done well for your first night," he said softly. "Tomorrow, you will continue. And the day after, and the day after that. Strength does not come all at once. It is a river, not a storm."
Kenji bowed deeply. "Thank you, Grandpa. I won't disappoint you."
His grandfather smiled faintly. "I know you won't. But remember… one day, this sword may belong to someone greater than me. And when that day comes, I will not be surprised. Go rest now. The road ahead is long, and tomorrow… it begins anew."
Kenji nodded, feeling both excitement and solemn responsibility. The grandfather's gift was not just a weapon—it was a key to the next stage of his journey, and a challenge to become stronger than anyone in his region, including the master who had handed it to him.