Lowell stood amidst the ancient trees of the dense forest, their towering forms casting dappled shadows across the ground. The air was alive with rustling leaves and distant birdsong. His master, Gabriel, waited calmly at the edge of the clearing, his expression as unreadable as ever.
Gabriel gripped his wooden sword tightly, the rough texture grounding him in the moment.
Lowell's confidence surged. This was his chance. He launched forward, his strike sharp and precise. But in an instant, Gabriel vanished from his sight. The world seemed frozen, and Lowell's eyes darted desperately, searching.
A blur of motion flickered at the edge of his vision. He turned just in time to see Gabriel's fist.
The blow met Lowell's raised sword, but the impact sent him stumbling back. His vision faltered as the frozen world resumed its natural flow.
With gritted teeth, Lowell lunged again, his sword carving rapid arcs through the air. Each strike met nothing. Gabriel slipped past them effortlessly, countering with bare-handed precision.
In desperation, Lowell raised his sword for a powerful overhead slash. But Gabriel was already behind him, moving with dangerous speed. A controlled strike landed on Lowell's back, dropping him to the ground.
"...How did you do that?" Lowell gasped, awe and frustration mingling in his voice.
Gabriel said nothing. His face remained a mask of indifference, but in his pale eyes Lowell caught a flicker of understanding.
No words were needed. The lesson was clear: speed, pure and unadulterated, could surpass even the most powerful abilities.
Lowell's shoulders slumped, but Gabriel's steady hand on his shoulder was reassurance enough. Determination reignited in Lowell's gaze. "I'll continue to train hard."
Gabriel gave a slight nod, stepping back into position. The forest embraced them once more, as master and student prepared for another round.
Later That Day
Looking back, Lowell couldn't help but marvel at how far he had come. Once, he had been a wimpy boy swinging aimlessly. Now, he had managed to defend against his master — even if only for a moment.
Yet one thing unsettled him: Gabriel's demeanor. His master's pale eyes grew duller with each practice. He spoke little, never telling Lowell what to fix. Instead, Gabriel hammered every technique into him, forcing repetition until Lowell's hands bled.
The Endless Repetition
Lowell stood again in the forest, the afternoon sun filtering through the canopy. His wooden sword felt heavier with each swing, but he refused to stop.
He swung, muscles straining, sweat dripping into the dirt. His hands were raw, bleeding, the hilt stained crimson. Still, he ignored the pain.
Over and over, he repeated the same move. Each strike carried hope, each failure sharpened his resolve. His breath came ragged, his vision blurred, but he tightened his grip and pressed on.
Gabriel watched from a distance, silent and unmoving. No encouragement, no criticism. His blank gaze was both a comfort and a challenge. Lowell understood: the path to mastery was one he had to walk alone.
Pain became his companion. Each sting reminded him he was pushing past limits. Each drop of blood was proof of growth.
The sun dipped low, shadows stretching across the forest floor. Lowell's movements slowed, his body trembling on the edge of collapse. But he refused surrender.
Finally, as darkness claimed the forest, he fell to his knees. The sword slipped from his grasp, his hands battered and bleeding.
Yet in that moment, he felt accomplishment. He had given everything. He was one step closer.
Gabriel approached silently, his pale eyes meeting Lowell's determined gaze. For the first time, Lowell felt his master's presence not as indifference, but as acknowledgment.