Chapter 77 Comfort
The next day.
To old Tyr's surprise.
Isaac, sword in hand, returned to his courtyard.
As if yesterday's intense training had never happened, he felt no discomfort.
You must understand, that level of training would take even an adult several days to recover from.
Let alone a child?
"Grandpa Tyr, I didn't do it yesterday..."
"But today I will definitely swing it a thousand times!"
Isaac gritted his teeth, picked up the heavy iron sword, assumed his stance, and began to swing it at the air, again and again.
"One..."
"Two..."
"Three..."
"..."
Except for a short rest at lunchtime.
Isaac was completely immersed in his training.
Sunlight shone on Isaac, and glistening beads of sweat dripped with his movements.
Evening arrived.
"Nine hundred and ninety-eight…"
"Nine hundred and ninety-nine…"
"One thousand!"
With a clang, the iron sword shattered on the ground, and Isaac collapsed to the ground as well.
Old Tyr nodded to himself upon seeing this.
Isaac's progress was obvious, even phenomenal…
Perhaps, given enough time, Isaac could truly surpass Perseus?
Old Tyr pondered this, then picked up Isaac, who had once again trained to the point of fainting, and took him back to Yara's house…
And on the third day…
As expected, Isaac returned.
It seemed his training had no side effects.
Muscle strains and fatigue healed in just one night.
He was able to recover completely…
Old Tyr, understanding all this, was utterly astonished.
Watching Isaac's resolute figure, as strong as his father's,
Old Tyr murmured:
"Perhaps you are not like Perseus..."
"To grasp concepts and apply them comprehensively..."
"But you possess another kind of talent—"
"Unwavering determination."
Days passed.
Having found someone to strive for and a goal to fight for,
young Isaac was no longer as mischievous as before, but instead threw himself into sword training, carrying his sword to Old Tyr's courtyard every day, receiving instruction from the old man.
And as his swordsmanship improved day by day, his body gradually grew taller and bigger...
The following year arrived.
Old Tyr observed Isaac's demonstration, nodding and offering the following assessment:
"Barely passable at the beginner level."
"Many adults can't reach this level."
Isaac was overjoyed. He immediately asked:
"Can you defeat Perseus?"
Old Tyr smiled but said nothing more...
Just then, news reached their ears—
Dicttis had returned with Perseus.
It seemed the father and son treated Canaan like a resort, visiting only once a year during their leisure time.
Upon hearing this news, Isaac was both surprised and delighted.
He had been wanting to test the results of his year-long training, and now the opportunity had arrived!
Immediately.
He approached Perseus.
Perseus's childishness had faded considerably; his features seemed more defined than last year, and his azure eyes held a newfound composure. He was now nearly two heads taller than Isaac.
"Let's duel!"
"This time I won't lose to you!"
Isaac, holding his wooden sword, pointed it at Perseus, his fighting spirit blazing…
Perseus, seeing this, chuckled softly, shook his head, and said:
"No, forget it. You can't beat me."
Isaac was taken aback, then shook his head, saying:
"I practice swordsmanship every day until night, diligently and assiduously…"
"Even Grandpa Tyr said I've already mastered the basics."
"How…" "Perhaps I can't beat you?"
Perseus smiled, took a bronze medal from his robes, and said to Isaac:
"Not long ago, I passed the Bronze Trial of the Hall of Heroes..."
"Now..."
"I am the youngest Bronze Warrior in the Hall of Heroes..."
Isaac was taken aback again, asking in confusion:
"Bronze Warrior? What's that?"
Perseus explained:
"It's the necessary path to becoming a hero."
Isaac didn't understand.
But after his repeated requests, Perseus agreed to their duel.
It was the same meadow, the same setting sun.
Isaac held a wooden sword.
Perseus held a wooden club.
Isaac held his breath, his steps firm, gripping the hilt of his sword. He took a step forward, raising his sword to strike Perseus…
Perseus neither dodged nor evaded…
Just as Isaac's wooden sword swung down, about to strike Perseus—
*Thud.*
Isaac hadn't seen anything clearly; he only felt that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't move the sword an inch…
Looking up, he nearly dropped his jaw in astonishment…
Perseus hadn't even used a staff; he had caught Isaac's wooden sword with just one hand.
Then, with another pull…
Isaac, sword and all, was sent flying backward.
He landed hard on his backside on the grass.
Isaac had lost.
Even more crushingly than before…
His nearly year-long arduous training hadn't closed the gap between him and Perseus; in fact, it was widening…
Then what was the point of all this?
For a moment,
Isaac began to doubt himself...
Until Dick and Perseus left a week later.
Isaac remained immersed in defeat...
He locked himself in his room for three days and three nights, refusing to eat or drink.
He wouldn't even open the door when Sarah and Shiaga knocked.
As a father, Yara noticed his son's dejection and disappointment...
But he knocked, and Isaac still wouldn't open the door.
However, Yara wasn't one to follow the rules. He climbed in through the window of Isaac's room.
Yara came to his son.
Isaac was curled up at the head of the bed, head bowed, looking dejected.
Seeing this, Yara handed Isaac a loaf of toast, saying, "Eat something."
"No matter what, you have to eat something..."
Isaac finally took the bread, put it in his mouth, and chewed it listlessly.
He seemed to have choked up, and there were still traces of tears in the corners of his eyes.
Yara felt a pang of heartache upon seeing this.
He sighed, sat down on the edge of the bed, and comforted him:
"There's nothing to be sad about."
"It's just losing a match..."
"And losing to Perseus isn't shameful, my child..."
Isaac, hearing this, seemed somewhat annoyed. He choked up as he said:
"Father... I can actually accept losing..."
"But I can't accept that I trained so hard for a whole year, yet he defeated me even more easily than before..."
"It's like all my efforts were in vain..."
Yara sighed again. He knew Perseus's talent was terrifying, and he knew the reason for it—after all, Perseus was the son of Zeus, a demigod descendant with Zeus's blood flowing through his veins...
But how could he explain this to Isaac?
Leaving aside the fact that the Canaanites received education from a single God from childhood, even if Isaac could understand what it meant to be a descendant of a demigod, the complex ethical and moral relationships involved were impossible to explain to a child...
So, after much thought, Ara finally comforted him, saying:
"There's no need to compete with others."
"My child..."
"For you are destined to be the Messiah..."
"Your glory comes not from anything else..."
"It comes from God."
"You are the burnt offering forgiven by God..."
"The son of Canaan in the fire."
...