Even after that so called not a real training, my lungs burning, my arms and legs trembling.
Even in dream Ryoji stood over me, arms crossed, shaking his head in disappointment. "You call that dodging? You were standing still like a tree waiting to be cut down!"
I Waked up and shouted, "Maybe because you're too fast!"
He's so called not a real training is giving me trauma.
I didn't want to get up. Every muscle in my body was screaming, my sweat-soaked shirt clung to me, and I was pretty sure I had already died three times earlier.
But I vowed to that I will stand by his son Kaito.
But now I had no other choice but to get stronger and led him.
This world was cruel, and if I stayed weak, I'd die.
—Next Morning—
Ryoji smirked as I rose to my feet. "Good. Again."
He swung his wooden sword at me, and I barely managed to dodge sideways, the tip grazing my shoulder. The air around me shifted, and my instincts screamed—he was coming again!
I had learned one thing from this training—predicting attacks through the flow of wind.
It was subtle, but whenever Ryoji moved, the wind around him changed. And that was my only advantage.
I steadied my stance and whispered, "Wind Step."
A sudden gust of wind pushed me forward, letting me barely avoid his next attack. My footing wobbled, but I quickly regained control.
"Not bad," Ryoji admitted. "But not good enough."
He swung again, and I tried to dodge the same way—
But this time, he read my movement.
Before I could react, his sword slammed into my stomach, knocking the air out of me. I hit the ground hard, gasping.
Damn it. Too predictable.
Ryoji sighed. "Wind magic is not just about speed. It's about control. If you let the wind carry you blindly, you'll be easy to counter."
I wiped sweat from my forehead. "Then how do I control it?"
His eyes glinted. "You'll figure it out."
Days Passed…
The training continued—brutal, exhausting, and relentless.
Ryoji made sure I had no time to rest, pushing me beyond my limits. Every time I collapsed, he forced me to stand.
Every day, my movements became sharper, my wind magic more precise, and my stamina stronger.
Then one morning—
It finally happened.
I stood in the training field, facing Ryoji. He attacked, his wooden sword moving faster than ever.
But this time, I felt it—the perfect flow of wind.
Instead of simply dodging, I adjusted my body, letting the wind guide me. My movements became fluid. I wasn't just using the wind—I was moving with it.
Ryoji's eyes widened slightly. "Finally."
I stepped forward, the wind swirling around my arms, and swung my own wooden sword.
For the first time—I actually landed a hit.
It wasn't a strong hit, but it was enough.
Ryoji stepped back, rubbing his shoulder. "Hah. You actually got me."
I grinned, breathing heavily. "Does this mean I passed?"
He's demonic grin came again. "Not yet."
Mana Manipulation—The Next Step
"Now that you can use wind magic properly," Ryoji said, sitting cross-legged in front of me, "it's time you learn the true foundation of all magic—mana manipulation."
I frowned. "I thought I was already using mana."
"You were," he admitted. "But you were letting the wind do the work for you. Real mages don't rely on pre-set abilities. They bend mana to their will."
He raised his hand, and a small flame appeared on his fingertip. "This isn't a spell. This is me controlling my mana freely."
I stared at the flame, fascinated. "So how do I do that?"
Ryoji smirked. "Close your eyes and feel the mana inside you."
I hesitated but obeyed.
As I focused, I became aware of something deep inside me—a faint current, like a flowing river.
"That's your mana," Ryoji said. "Now, try moving it."
I concentrated, attempting to push it toward my fingertips—
And suddenly, a gust of wind exploded from my hand, knocking me backward.
I landed face-first in the dirt.
Ryoji burst into laughter. "Hahahaha! Too much power, idiot!"
I groaned, spitting out dirt. "You could've warned me!"
"This is part of the learning process," he said, still chuckling. "Welcome to real magic training."
I sighed, rubbing my sore face.
It is my Isekai story.