Third person POV
Closing his eyes briefly, Aren summoned that now-familiar creeping sensation from the core of his soul. His Rune etched within his soul stirred. It wasn't an active ability at the moment, just his innate creepy mana welling up, giving him the mana that feel wrong.
With a controlled breath, he redirected a portion of that energy into his muscles. Not too much. He remembered how easily he'd once torn a training dummy apart when he'd first tried mana strengthening. Just a moderate infusion to steady his arms and sharpen his reflexes
He shifted his grip and stance, the movements coming a bit smoother now as the mana bolstered his coordination. Without announcing, Aren launched into the horizontal slash again.
This time, the wooden blade cut cleanly across the straw dummy's midsection, slicing through several layers of bundled grass. The severed top half of the target slid off and plopped to the ground.
The watching children gasped, then broke into applause. "He did it!" one boy exclaimed.
Aren spun the sword in his hand with a theatrical flourish and took a bow. "Thank you, thank you my basic swordsmanship, mastered." He couldn't resist hamming it up a little, winking at the wide-eyed kids.
Ren, however, was far from impressed. He stepped forward to inspect the cut. The severing looked neat at first glance, but Ren's sharp eyes noticed the frayed ends of straw tinged black at the edges. Black, like rot.
Aren had trained [Rot] on plague rats so much that it was only a beat slower than [Defilement] of [Hunt]. He kept the rats weak so they wouldn't fight back. Lately, he carried a couple in his pockets, like secret tools. Due to them being weakened, all the steps to etch circuits almost muscle memory.
"Aren," he said with a warning tone. "Did you just cheat?" Aren tapped the side of his nose slyly. "I have no idea what you're insinuating."
Ren bent and plucked a piece of straw from the dummy. The tip crumbled into ash between his fingers. He glared at Aren. "You channeled some Rot into the blade not just your pure mana, didn't you?"
Caught, Aren could only shrug. "Maybe a little? It was just a tiny dose. The sword's fine, see?" He held out the wooden practice blade. Indeed, only a faint darkening along the edge hinted that the corrosive mana of his Rot ability had briefly coated it. Any longer and the oak might have started decaying in his hands.
Ren tossed aside the burnt straw with a scowl. "The point of this exercise is to learn proper technique, not rely on your Rune's active abilities." He looked genuinely disappointed like a teacher whose student took a shortcut rather than putting in the work.
Aren felt a twinge of guilt. Ren had agreed to teach him out of a sincere desire to help him improve, and here he was fooling around. Rubbing the back of his neck, Aren offered a contrite smile.
"Alright, you're right. That was lazy of me. I'll do it properly this time. No Rot, I promise."
Ren regarded him for a moment, then nodded curtly. "Good. You have potential, Aren. Your mana control is actually quite impressive..." he gestured at the half-charred target as evidence, "...but you're neglecting the fundamentals. If you ever focused, you could be a decent swordsman."
"Decent? That's high praise coming from you," Aren chuckled. But inwardly he did take Ren's words
seriously. He wasn't blind to his own flaws. Dedication....true, single-minded dedication....was something he'd always struggled with. He hopped from interest to interest, skill to skill, never mastering anything. Even now in this Trial, where life and death hung in the balance, he caught himself looking for shortcuts.
Ren's face softened slightly, seeing that his friend had taken the rebuke to heart. The taller young man's voice quieted so the nearby children wouldn't overhear. "I know you treat things like a joke, but try to remember why we're doing this. Our enemy won't wait for you to crack a punchline."
Aren bobbed his head. "I get it." And he did, at least for the moment. He adjusted his grip and sank back into stance, focusing sincerely this time. His arms felt steadier now after the bit of mana reinforcement, even though he let the Rot effect dissipate. "Let's go again."
Ren began a new series of drills: basic thrusts, transitions between guard positions, footwork patterns to maintain balance. Aren followed along, doing his best to imitate Ren's flawless movements. There were still mistakes. His footing slipped on a loose clod of dirt at one point, earning a light whack across the thigh from Ren's practice sword but little by little, he improved. Muscle memory slowly built with each repetition.
Watching from a shaded patch nearby, the village kids soon grew bored of the less flashy drills and
wandered off, leaving the two young men to their training. The sun dipped lower in the sky, painting the dusty training area in hues of orange.
After what felt like hours (but was likely just one very thorough hour under Ren's tutelage), Aren finally plopped down on a stump, breathing hard and drenched in sweat. He tossed aside the wooden sword and flexed his fingers, which were stiff from gripping the hilt. "I think that's enough for today... sensei," he puffed, using the title again with a cheeky grin.
Ren shook his head but couldn't hide the slight upward curl of his lips. "If you spent less energy cracking jokes, you'd have more for training."
"True, but then who would entertain you? You'd be bored out of your mind," Aren shot back.
Before Ren could form a retort, a third voice called out to them, urgent and breathless: "Guys! There you are....I've been looking everywhere!"
Aren and Ren turned to see Leo jogging towards them, his spectacles slightly askew and his face flushed with exertion. The lanky eighteen-year-old nearly tripped over the uneven ground in his haste.
Ren straightened. "What is it?"
Leo paused to catch his breath, pushing up his glasses. "It's Boran. I've been keeping an eye on him like we planned, and he's on the move. He just left the village, heading into the forest." Even as he said it, Leo's youthful face creased in anger and hurt. The normally timid scholar looked ready to spit fire at the mention of Boran's name.
Aren exchanged a look with Ren. So their suspicions about Boran, one of the village's own, were proving true. Boran had been acting oddly ever since Father Aram disappeared, and evidence pointed to him feeding information to the enemy. A traitor.
"Now?" Aren asked, wiping sweat from his brow and rising to his feet. Fatigue from training evaporated, replaced by a surge of adrenaline.
Leo nodded, worry and simmering betrayal in his eyes. "I think he snuck out to meet someone. We should follow him....before we lose the trail."
Ren was already fetching their real weapons which lay within arm's reach. He tossed Aren's steel bastard sword to him, and Aren caught it by the hilt. Ren slung his own longsword, Dawn's Edge, across his back. Its polished blade briefly gleamed with a golden hue in the twilight. Leo tightened the straps of his leather satchel, where a few temple talismans and his personal notes were kept.
Aren gave a quick nod. "Alright. Let's go see what our friend Boran is up to."
He tried to keep his tone light, but inside his stomach was doing a slow, anxious churn. This little village mission was becoming more complicated by the hour. A traitor in their midst, an undead threat lurking beyond, and Father Aram still missing... None of it boded well.
As the trio set off at a swift but silent run, Aren couldn't shake the uneasy feeling creeping over him. The sun had almost set, and long shadows spilled out of the forest ahead like dark tendrils beckoning them into the unknown.