The bonfire crackled and within its illuminated influence — the song of steel echoed, one blade was relentless and the other was rather insignificant.
I know it's not gonna be easy.
The boy was on the cold ground after receiving an aggressive blow of sword slashes coming from mister knight.
I'm trembling, my forearms just can't hold the sword straight.
His current mentor was gauging his natural talent, and so far, it was below mediocrity—no, it was nonexistent. Sieg had never held a weapon in his life.
A rusty knife from some forgotten dumpster doesn't really count.
The slum boy overextended his reach, letting the blade drift off center, lifting with the shoulders instead of the hips — and over-rotating on cuts, while crossing his feet during stepping.
"Stand," mister knight said calmly — not a single hint of encouragement, only the pressure of raw expectation from a mentor.
Grunt—
Sieg gripped his sword with whatever strength he could muster, standing up with trembling legs.
The knight circled him slowly, inspecting every inch of his horrendous posture. Finally, he stopped behind Sieg, tapping the flat of his blade against his back.
Ow!
"You hold the sword like a child, hold it like a man. Your arms do the act, not your body. Raise it above your shoulder."
Child? A child?!
"Yes sir…" Sieg obeyed without complaints — however, he shakily lifted his sword, mister knight nodded once and struck down lightly on the sword, forcing him to absorb the pressure.
Gah!
"Again. Maintain it. Use your hips." Mister Knight did not stop his guidance.
Gulp— I'm done for…
Hours passed as Sieg repeated a downward strike, over and over again, each poor attempt was corrected, while every dull motion scrutinized by mister knight.
"Focus and learn faster—"
... "yes sir."
I'm not having a good time.
Sieg could feel it, his wrist never felt this kind of burn before, paired with his aching legs, and with lungs trying its best to support every movement, yet despite all those, once again, not a single complaint ever left his mouth.
I never really thought about learning the sword before, but doing this, It's not so bad, and what I'm trying to say is, it doesn't feel like I'm wasting my life away.
Mister Knight respected his perseverance and in return, every mistake Sieg does was not punished by harsh words, but with endless repetition — the strikes must flow from the body, not from brute force from his slum boy habits.
Next came the horizontal, slicing of left and right. Sieg staggered, completely off-balance, and swinging blindly at first. The knight pressed his blade against Sieg's, demonstrating the thwart cut, intercepting attacks at the right angle.
"Boy, You do not meet force with force," mister knight said. "Redirect it, and control the centerline, do it again."
The blizzard outside intensified — though within, mister knight forced Sieg to advance and retreat with passing steps, with the goal of maintaining his form under exhaustion.
As expected, every missed step and wobble in Sieg's stance was met with a sharp correction. Mister knight held Sieg in a plow guard, tapped at his wrist, adjusted his shoulders, and forced him to repeat until his cuts felt natural rather than forced.
What's the goal? Does he expect me to learn this all within a week? All of these feel like it takes months! Wait… how long have I been here anyway…
Sieg couldn't even tell if it was day or night, as outside remained dark despite the passing hours — however, even now. Mister knight demanded binding drills. He pressed on Sieg's blade relentlessly, teaching him to feel pressure without flinching.
It's so hard to respond to it — I kept hesitating! Why am I so bad??
Then suddenly, mister knight stopped, he lowered his guard, and Sieg did as well.
"Good, well have our supper, then we will rest."
"Finally!"
Sieg finds himself eating the same beef stew on a make shift bench — it was as delicious as ever, however, the mister knight wasn't eating anything.
"You're not gonna eat mister?"
"Pay me no mind—"
I'm not sure if this is an actual person or a by-product of the trial, though I would prefer that his real.
"Can I at least know your name? I am… Sieg Ravel." He asked, carefully placing the empty bowl right next to him.
"My name?" The knight who was near the fireplace looked back at him, "It's boreas."
He's not that talkative — I doubt he even has much personality, but it's a cool name, all things considered.
"Mister Boreas, after all of this, can I really ascend the mountain with the blizzard outside? Will it ever stop?"
This wasn't a normal blizzard, there must be a way to stop it somehow.
The knight ignored Siege's question — he simply kept stoking the smokeless fire, his one visible white eye staring directly at the flames, with madness and hatred.
Mister Boreas asked sternly, "Your name is Sieg? And I'm right to assume that your mother gave you that name?"
"That would be right, mister Boreas." Sieg replied, finding himself rather formal.
"A slum boy — easy prey for a world that besieges the weak, but you don't surrender, You've proven that much."
"You wonder if you'll ever ascend the mountain through the blizzard?" Mister Boreas paused; while Sieg listened silently.
"I cannot say. But I do know that a mere sword and training alone won't carry you upward. This trial is more than a simple climb — its answer at the end is your intention. For whatever that may be, do hope it plays in your favor."
Ahh, why does he talk like that! But I do know my intentions… I know what I want…
"I understand… Sir Boreas—" Sieg said, his hand already gripping his longsword, anticipating the next training session after his meal.
Yet, Boreas gestured for him to not take his sword, "Sieg, go take your rest — we'll do this again once you're awake."
Sieg felt bliss upon hearing those words.
As in truth — his body was already on the verge of collapsing, but he was too prideful to even admit it.
"Well, if you say so."
As Sieg walks towards his bed, the slum boy was fascinated at the contrast of his old cardboard bed back in the real world — to this fur one.
I'll sleep like a hog… I've never felt a bed like this before, huh… I am missing out on a lot, including little things like this…
His back sighed in relief on the fur bed, and with a blanket on his side, it would be the best sleep he had ever experienced.
Sieg's eyes gazed at the knight who stand guard near the bonfire…
I want you to be real, and not disappear… after I ascended this trial…
His eyes begun to flutter along with the flickering of the bonfire's flame…
Thank you, sir knight.
Outside, the unforgiving blizzard cried with frozen daggers — but for now, its strong winds and snow, were a comfort to a slum boy's silent slumber.
Chapter End.