Several weeks later, August still found himself in the same place from where he had started. It felt like he wasn't making any progress even after trying his best.
He was sitting in the lotus position thinking about the past of his desperate fruitless attempts. He never seemed to grow himself even when he had well qualified teachers at his disposal. His parents had surely made the road to his growth easy for him.
It was all thanks to their experience that August was given a liberty of avoiding the mistakes people tend to make.
Like in sword fighting his father had asked him a simple question,
'Why does he wield a sword? What was his purpose behind it?'
The question surely seemed easy at the surface but finding a purpose in something wasn't always easy. Hell, it never was. Even great people in life wandered alone in desolate expanse to find purpose behind their deeds. And mostly never did.
Even after knowing what a person intends to gain from doing what he wants to do, he couldn't possibly know whether he would stray from that path he had chosen for himself— or not. Only after reminding himself the reason again and again should he be called as someone with a purpose.
It was an illusory concept, you have to find something that doesn't exist and find the meaning behind that too. For August however this feeling of trying to find something that doesn't exist was all too familiar. He was always hoping to find something in his life that probably doesn't exist for him.
Maybe his experience of being a failure could help him find a purpose in life.
Not only that, his mother had also made the concept of entering into the conscious realm a lot easier for him to understand. He only needed to find a tether that could guide him to his essence to another realm.
However the result of his progress was also similar in this too. Which was apparently no progress to speak of. Even after trying very hard August wasn't able to guide himself into the conscious realm.
Not to mention he considered his attempts to enter the conscious realm to be more difficult than his prowess with the sword. It was hard enough to concentrate for so long without getting distracted by useless thoughts.
Just like right now, when he was supposed to be concentrating but got distracted comparing both of his attempts.
"Now close your eyes and tell me honestly what you feel?"
His father said standing right before him observing August as he was holding the Fallen star in a stance.
August had no idea what his father intended to know from this exercise when he had told August to just hold the blade steady in his hands. August thought maybe he would encounter resistance from the blade as according to his father there was a danger for him to know the name of Fallen star too soon.
Well, it wasn't August's fault that he was able to read the letters carved in the blade.
There was a rule which August didn't know up until now, that the bearer of a powerful weapon shouldn't know the runic name of that weapon until he becomes worthy to wield full power of that weapon. Strangely enough this was also the fact that weapons did not reveal their names also until they deemed someone worthy of themselves.
So, what does that mean for August then? Was he already the worthy wielder of the Fallen star? Had the blade accepted him? Or was it just a mistake?
Since the blade was reacting strangely and riling up his rage that meant Fallen star has not deemed August worthy for now. So what was it then?
August thought of it through and through holding the blade in his hands. Needless to say he was able to conclude nothing which made him nothing but more pissed.
Gritting his teeth he thought of his father's words. What was he supposed to feel anyway? He was holding the blade and that was all. He was beginning to frustrate slowly. Strangely enough he heard a noise. It seemed like an annoying fly was flapping its small noisy wings here and there. August was growing more frustrated but he tried to compose himself.
A sudden thought rose in his heart to make a sudden movement to sway away the fly. But he suppressed the thought. Or that was what he thought.
A clanger of metal striking together rang in his ears followed by a shout from his father,
"Enough!"
He opened his eyes only to see his sword meeting his father's, stopped midway in a deadly attack. It was only then he realised he was not able to fully suppress his thought which led him to attack in the direction of fly subconsciously.
The incident only made clear to him that his father was right all along. He was nothing more than a murderous beast under the influence of this deadly weapon which for some reason intended to cut everything down. August was surely surprised when he came to know that a weapon could influence your mind up to the extent that your body could no longer resist the commands given by it.
August was devastated, what would happen if his father's words came true one day? What would happen if he really was no longer capable of differentiating friends from foe? If that happens wouldn't it be the repetition of the incident of trial class all again? He thought maybe he had to stay as far as possible from this blade only to be taken aback by the next words of his father,
"Good," his father said, praising him, "you managed to resist the effect as long as you could?" He said, placing a hand on August's shoulder, "now you have to slowly learn how to resist the effect until you've fully gained your control over it."
— — —
After some days August found himself before a burner within which the flames rose higher. It was the only smithy in the town. For some reason his father had brought him here. The old blacksmith who was the owner of this smithy wasn't here and his father had borrowed the smithy for today.
The temperature was high inside, stacks of different metal lay atop each other. His father handed him a piece of metal. August was confused at first but he went along with it.
"You know what we are going to do today?" his father said, taking a hammer from the nearby toolbox. Watching August as he had no clue his father answered the question himself leaving August a lot more confused, "we are going to forge a weapon."
"That's right, keep it steady" August did as he was instructed, keeping the piece of metal steady inside of the hot flames, "don't take your eyes off. Concentrate"
He thought maybe his father wanted to train his endurance or strength for today's session as the temperature was gradually rising. Some minutes passed then another then another, it was about half an hour already but the damn metal hadn't even so much let the heat alter its shape.
However he was in no mood to back off. August showed indomitable resilience. No matter how much heat he felt, his resilience was much harder to be broken off that easily. At the start he did have some self-doubting thoughts, but in the end he decided to face whatever this training might throw at him with confidence.
And so it happens, if you are mentally prepared for something no amount of physical pain could waver you until your spirit within hadn't given up.
It was already about an hour when the metal finally showed some cracking. Then after that it was a matter of a minute or two.
On his father's instructions, August finally took it out from the burner and placed the half molten metal on an anvil. His father struck the metal once or twice and then handed the hammer to him, "you have to strike it like that, no more no less."
August thought he got the hang of it and struck the metal surface once.
"Strike harder," his father instructed.
Then after some strikes he ultimately got the hang of it. He struck the metal surface again and again. He did that on the same spot with the same intensity of force again and again.
Then he stopped for a while as his father folded the flat-turned metal on top of itself. Hence it became two layered. Then ordered August to repeat the striking again and again.
"Folding it into layers makes the molecular density inside it increase"
Strike…
"It helps to make the outcome more strong and hard to bend"
Then his father poured water onto the hot metal making it sizzle,
"And adding water occasionally makes the weapon flexible, so it doesn't break under pressure,"
This was all followed by constant striking on the metal by August of course.
Finally the weapon started to take shape and after some time it was easily distinguished as a sword.
Then, his father placed the newly forged sword inside cold water. Bubbles of heat evolved from within the surface of water with sizzling noises.
August thought his work had finally done but his father handed him over another piece of metal.
"You forged the weapon without clearly knowing the purpose of it. Now make this another sword with the intention of cutting rocks. Repeat what you want the weapon for, again and again in your mind and that will help you to put a purpose behind that weapon and you will see how different both of the weapons you've forged are."
Without a frown on his face August did as he was told. He repeated the intention behind making this sword again and again inside of his mind. Strangely enough he found himself concentrated solely on the work and not bothered by the heat anymore.
He kept the purpose in mind when he was trying to melt the metal. He did the same while striking it with the calculated intensity of force. He never forgot, his resilience never wavered. He kept his hands steady and his mind onto his work until the very purpose for which he was forging this sword was engraved in every molecule of the metal.
The moment he placed the sword into cold water, from its sizzling noises it felt even the sword knew for what purpose it was forged.
He felt as though even if he forgot somehow this sword would remind him whenever he would touch its surface.
The last step was to sharpen them and make them ready to use.
A metal wheel powered by runic magic started spinning and his father started to teach him how the sharpness of a weapon is done.
August held the blunt sword. As the surface of the sword touched the metal wheel there were sparks everywhere. The wheel and the metal of the sword grinded together and made the sharpness in the weapon take shape.
After a while it was done. August was holding two swords in his hands which if he dare say, were forged by him. Needless to say his father helped him the whole time but the experience was something that gave him a sense of accomplishment.
"Training tomorrow will make you understand the importance of a purpose behind you attacks"
his father said looking at his worn out son, then he sighed,
"...but that's for tomorrow you can relax for today"
August felt a sense of relief wash over him. They returned to the home and after putting the newly forged swords into the armory shack his father said facing him with a playful smile,
"Okay last one to reach inside will not get to eat the dessert" his father rushed and August followed behind,
"Dad! That's not fair"
"Wait for me"
— — — — —