"The warm-up is over. Now... The real training begins."
Damon tightened his grip around the wooden sword Master Draven had tossed to him. He stared at the weapon, then at the old swordsman standing before him.
"What's first?" he asked.
Draven folded his arms.
"Before I answer that, tell me something. What do you think it means to become a powerful swordsman?"
Damon thought for a moment.
"To become strong enough to defeat my enemies?"
Draven shook his head.
"That's only a small part of it. A swordsman who knows nothing but how to swing his sword is nothing more than a fool holding a weapon."
He walked towards Damon and tapped the wooden sword with his finger.
"True strength comes from more than physical power. It requires technique, awareness, discipline, and control. Your body, mind, and spirit must work together. If even one of them falls behind, your strength will be limited."
Draven turned and pointed towards an open area outside the cave.
"Your training will consist of three stages: Swordsmanship, Mindset, and Spiritual Control."
Damon listened carefully.
"Each stage is equally important. You cannot master one while neglecting the others. And don't expect this to be easy. I won't lower the difficulty simply because you're a beginner."
Damon nodded firmly.
"I understand."
Draven gave him a faint smile.
"Good. Let's begin."
The First Stage: Swordsmanship
Draven led Damon to a clearing a short distance from the cave. The ground was relatively flat, and several trees surrounded the area.
"Stand there," Draven instructed.
Damon moved to the centre of the clearing.
"Hold your sword."
Damon raised the wooden sword with both hands.
"Your stance is wrong."
Before Damon could respond, Draven stepped behind him and adjusted his feet.
"Keep your legs slightly apart. Bend your knees. Your weight should be balanced, and your body must remain relaxed. Don't waste energy by keeping your muscles tense."
He adjusted Damon's grip.
"Your sword should feel like an extension of your body. It shouldn't feel like something you're carrying. When you move, it moves with you. When you attack, it should respond as naturally as your own arm."
Damon studied his stance.
"Like this?"
"Better. Now, swing."
Damon took a deep breath and swung the wooden sword.
WHOOSH!
Draven watched without moving.
"Again."
Damon swung a second time.
"Again."
A third strike followed.
"Again."
Damon continued.
After several minutes, sweat began to form on his forehead.
"You're relying too much on your arms," Draven said. "Your entire body must work together. Your feet create the foundation, your waist transfers the force, and your arms guide the sword. A proper strike is not simply an arm movement."
He demonstrated.
His wooden sword moved in a simple, controlled arc.
Yet the moment it stopped, a powerful gust swept through the clearing. Several leaves scattered across the ground.
Damon's eyes widened.
"That was just a wooden sword..."
"Don't be distracted by the result. Focus on the movement."
Draven returned the sword to his side.
"Every strike must be delivered as though it is your final strike. Don't swing carelessly. Don't strike without purpose. Each movement should carry the intention to finish the battle."
He paused.
"And each strike must be stronger and more precise than the one before it."
Damon nodded and resumed his training.
He swung again and again, trying to imitate Draven's movements.
But his strikes were inconsistent. Some were too slow, others lacked power, and his balance frequently shifted.
After another attempt, Draven stopped him.
"You're making the same mistake."
Damon lowered his sword, breathing heavily.
"What am I doing wrong?"
"You're focusing only on hitting your target. A swordsman must also understand his opponent."
Draven picked up a branch from the ground.
"Imagine this is your opponent. Don't just think about where to strike. Observe its movements. Look for weaknesses. Every fighter has openings in their technique, no matter how strong they are."
He moved the branch through several simple attack patterns.
"Study the rhythm of your opponent. Watch their shoulders, their feet, and the direction of their weapon. Learn to recognise the moment when their defence is weakest."
Draven stopped.
"An opening that lasts only a fraction of a second can decide an entire battle."
Damon stared at the branch.
"So I need to learn how to read my opponent?"
"Exactly."
Draven tossed the branch aside.
"But that's not all. You already know a few fighting techniques, such as Crimson Slash and Crimson Flash. However, you barely understand how they work."
He looked directly at Damon.
"Your next task is to combine your sword techniques with Spirit Qi and World Energy. That is how you will develop and use Battle Arts."
Damon tightened his grip.
"Battle Arts..."
"Yes. But remember, powerful techniques are useless if you cannot control the energies behind them. We'll get to that later."
Draven pointed towards the clearing.
"For now, continue swinging."
Damon returned to his stance.
He swung.
Again.
And again.
But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't reproduce the precision of Draven's movements.
His arms grew heavier, his breathing became uneven, and his wooden sword eventually slipped from his fingers.
Clack!
Damon fell to one knee.
Draven glanced at him.
"Rest for five minutes. Then we'll continue."
Damon looked at his trembling hands.
So this is what true swordsmanship feels like...
He had thought reaching the Foundation Level would make everything easier.
He was beginning to realise how much he still had to learn.
The Second Stage: Mindset
After a short rest, Draven led Damon away from the clearing.
They walked deeper into the forest until they reached a narrow opening between two enormous rocks.
Damon looked towards the darkness beyond it.
"What's this place?"
"A cave I discovered many years ago. I call it the Cave of Illusions."
Draven stepped inside.
"Follow me."
Damon hesitated briefly before entering.
The cave was unusually quiet. Its walls were covered in strange markings, and faint traces of energy lingered in the air.
"What exactly does this cave do?" Damon asked.
"It reveals what's hidden within your mind. Your fears, regrets, insecurities, and the things you try hardest to forget."
Damon frowned.
"Why are we here?"
"Because your mind is just as important as your sword. You cannot become a true swordsman if your emotions control you."
Draven stopped and turned towards him.
"Fear can make you hesitate. Anger can cloud your judgement. Desperation can cause you to make reckless decisions. If you want to survive against powerful opponents, you must learn to remain calm regardless of the situation."
He pointed towards the deeper part of the cave.
"Go forward. I'll be waiting here."
Damon looked into the darkness.
"What am I supposed to do?"
"Face whatever appears before you. Don't run from it."
Damon swallowed.
Then he took his first step.
The moment he moved deeper into the cave, the markings on the walls began to glow.
A strange sensation washed over him.
The surroundings blurred.
And suddenly, he was no longer inside the cave.
He stood in a familiar place.
His home.
Damon looked around in confusion.
Then he saw two familiar figures standing ahead of him.
His parents.
They looked at him with disappointment.
"Damon..." his mother's voice trembled.
He froze.
"Mother?"
His father stepped forward.
"We believed in you. We thought you would become someone we could be proud of."
Damon's expression changed.
"What are you talking about?"
His mother lowered her head.
"But look at you now. You're still weak. You can't even protect yourself."
"That's not true!"
His father shook his head.
"You keep chasing strength, but what have you accomplished? How many times have you failed?"
Damon took a step backwards.
"Stop..."
"You'll only disappoint everyone who believes in you."
"STOP!"
The scene shattered.
Damon dropped to his knees, breathing heavily.
His heart was pounding.
He knew it wasn't real. His parents had never said those things to him.
But hearing those words still hurt.
He clenched his fists.
They're not real. This is an illusion.
The darkness around him shifted.
Another scene appeared.
This time, he was standing in a familiar street.
Martins was lying on the ground, covered in injuries.
Julia stood a short distance away, struggling to defend herself.
Damon immediately recognised the scene.
It was the day Brock and his gang attacked them.
"Damon!"
Martins reached out towards him.
"Help me!"
Damon rushed forward.
But his legs wouldn't move.
He looked down.
His body was frozen.
"No... Move!"
Julia struggled against an approaching enemy.
"Damon, please!"
He tried to summon his strength.
He tried to move his arms.
Nothing happened.
The same helpless feeling he had experienced before returned.
He watched as his friends suffered while he stood completely powerless.
"NO!"
Damon forced himself forward, but the scene remained just beyond his reach.
"Why are you so weak?"
A voice whispered behind him.
"Why couldn't you protect them?"
Damon turned around.
Nothing was there.
The voice continued.
"How many more people must suffer because of you?"
His breathing became ragged.
"Shut up..."
"You want to become stronger, but you're still the same helpless boy."
Damon fell to his knees.
His hands trembled.
He remembered Martins lying helplessly on the ground. He remembered Julia risking her life to save him.
And he remembered how little he could do.
I don't want to experience that again.
The illusion disappeared.
For a moment, everything became silent.
Then a third scene emerged.
This time, Damon found himself standing in an unfamiliar place.
The surroundings were dark, and a cold wind swept across the ground.
Ahead of him stood a shadowy figure.
Its appearance was obscured by darkness.
Damon couldn't make out its face.
"Who are you?" he asked.
The figure remained silent.
Then it slowly raised its head.
"You still haven't found the truth."
Damon froze.
His expression changed.
"What?"
"You keep moving forward, believing that strength will bring you closer to the answers you seek."
The figure took a step towards him.
"But you're wasting your time."
Damon clenched his fists.
"Who are you? What do you know?"
The figure ignored his question.
"You will never uncover the truth about my death."
Damon's eyes widened.
"My... death?"
The figure's voice grew colder.
"You will never discover what really happened. You will never find the answers you've been searching for."
Damon took a step forward.
"Stop talking!"
The figure continued.
"You are too weak. You will never accomplish your mission."
Damon's body trembled.
"That's not true!"
"Then prove it."
The shadowy figure slowly raised one hand and pointed towards him.
"You will fail. Just as you have always failed."
Damon stared at the figure.
Something about its presence felt strangely familiar, but he couldn't understand why.
He tried to see its face.
But the darkness refused to reveal it.
"WHO ARE YOU?!"
The figure remained silent.
Then everything began to crumble.
The ground disappeared beneath Damon's feet, and the darkness swallowed the surroundings.
Damon fell.
And suddenly—
He was back inside the Cave of Illusions.
He dropped to his knees, gasping for air.
His entire body was covered in sweat.
His heart pounded violently.
He looked around, trying to understand what had happened.
"That... was horrible."
Draven approached him.
"How was it?"
Damon remained silent for a moment.
"I saw my parents. Martins and Julia... and someone else."
Draven studied his expression.
"Someone else?"
Damon nodded.
"I couldn't see his face. He told me I would never accomplish my mission."
Draven folded his arms.
"And do you believe him?"
Damon clenched his fists.
"No."
"Then why are you trembling?"
Damon looked down at his hands.
He didn't have an answer.
Draven sighed.
"Knowing something is an illusion doesn't mean it cannot affect you. Your mind reacts to fear even when your eyes know the truth."
He placed a hand on Damon's shoulder.
"You must learn to control your emotions. You must remain calm even when everything around you is falling apart."
Damon slowly stood up.
"I understand."
Draven shook his head.
"No. You don't. Not yet."
He turned towards the entrance.
"Your mindset training has only just begun."
Damon followed him out of the cave.
He glanced back once more.
For some reason, the shadowy figure's words continued to echo inside his mind.
You will never uncover the truth about my death.
He clenched his fists.
I won't fail.
The Third Stage: Spiritual Control
When they returned to the clearing, Draven instructed Damon to sit on the ground.
"Now we move to the third stage."
Damon sat cross-legged.
"Spiritual control?"
"Correct."
Draven crouched in front of him.
"Your Spirit Qi and World Energy are two different forms of energy. You must learn to control each of them independently before attempting to combine them."
He raised one finger.
"First, Spirit Qi. It originates from your spirit core. It can strengthen your body and be directed through it. You must learn to control its movement without allowing it to become unstable."
He raised a second finger.
"Second, World Energy. Unlike Spirit Qi, it comes from the world around you. You must learn to sense it, draw it towards yourself, and control its movement."
Damon nodded.
"And after that?"
"After that, you'll learn to combine both energies. Remember, Battle Arts require balance. If your Spirit Qi overwhelms the World Energy, the fusion will fail. If the World Energy overwhelms your Spirit Qi, the result will be the same."
Draven stood up.
"Now, close your eyes."
Damon obeyed.
"First, focus on your spirit core. Feel the Spirit Qi within it. Don't force it. Simply guide it through your body."
Damon concentrated.
He could feel the energy within his spirit core.
It was different from the Spirit Energy he had used before. It felt denser, more powerful, and more responsive to his thoughts.
He slowly guided it towards his right arm.
A faint crimson glow appeared around his hand.
"Good," Draven said. "Now guide it back into your spirit core."
Damon attempted to do so.
But the energy moved unevenly.
His arm suddenly trembled.
"Don't force it. Control the flow."
Damon took a deep breath and tried again.
This time, the Spirit Qi returned to his spirit core.
Draven nodded.
"Better. Repeat the process."
Damon continued.
He moved the energy from his spirit core to his arm, then guided it back.
After several attempts, he began to understand the movement.
"Now, let's move on to World Energy."
Damon opened his eyes.
Draven pointed towards the trees.
"Feel the energy surrounding you. Don't try to absorb everything at once. Focus on a small amount and guide it towards your palm."
Damon closed his eyes again.
He reached out with his senses.
At first, he felt nothing.
Then, slowly, he detected something.
It was all around him.
In the trees.
In the soil.
In the air.
The World Energy seemed to respond to his awareness.
He carefully drew a small amount towards his right palm.
A faint glow appeared.
Draven watched closely.
As I suspected... He can sense and manipulate World Energy with unusual ease.
But he said nothing.
"Good. Now release it."
Damon opened his hand.
The energy dispersed into the air.
"Again."
Damon repeated the process.
This time, the World Energy gathered more quickly.
"Excellent. Now we'll attempt something more difficult."
Draven pointed towards a nearby tree.
"Gather a small amount of World Energy in your right hand. Then channel a small amount of Spirit Qi into it. Don't rush. Maintain a balance between them."
Damon nodded.
He gathered the World Energy first.
Then he began directing Spirit Qi from his spirit core towards his palm.
The two energies approached each other.
For a brief moment, they seemed to coexist.
Then—
BOOM!
A small explosion erupted from Damon's hand.
He was thrown backwards and landed hard on the ground.
"Damon!"
Draven immediately approached him.
Damon groaned and sat up.
"What... happened?"
Draven examined his hand.
"You allowed the Spirit Qi to overpower the World Energy. The balance was lost, and the fusion collapsed."
Damon looked at his palm.
"But I was trying to control both..."
"Trying isn't enough. You must understand how each energy responds to the other."
Draven helped him stand.
"Rest for a moment. Then try again."
Damon looked at the ground.
He had failed.
Again.
But he wasn't ready to give up.
He returned to his position and closed his eyes.
This time, he tried to be more careful.
He gathered the World Energy.
Then he introduced his Spirit Qi, slowly and gradually.
The two energies began to mix.
A faint glow formed around his palm.
Damon's eyes widened.
It's working!
But before he could stabilise the fusion—
BOOM!
Another explosion erupted.
The force sent him stumbling backwards.
Draven sighed.
"You're still losing control."
Damon stared at his hand.
"Why can't I do it?"
"Because you're trying to control two energies you barely understand. You have only just reached the Foundation Level. Your Spirit Qi is still unfamiliar to you, and your control over World Energy is far from complete."
Draven folded his arms.
"Don't confuse having the ability to manipulate energy with mastering it."
Damon lowered his head.
He had thought that reaching the Foundation Level would mark a major turning point.
Instead, he was discovering just how far behind he truly was.
Draven picked up the wooden sword and tossed it towards him.
"That's enough for today."
Damon caught the sword.
"Are we stopping?"
"For today, yes. Tomorrow, you'll repeat everything."
Damon stared at him.
"Everything?"
Draven gave him a small smile.
"Did you think becoming a powerful swordsman would be easy?"
Damon sighed.
"No, Master."
"Good. Because this is only the beginning."
Draven turned towards the cave.
Damon remained in the clearing for a moment, looking at his trembling hands.
His swordsmanship was poor.
His mind was easily shaken.
And his control over Spirit Qi and World Energy was unstable.
He had failed at all three stages.
But as he remembered the shadowy figure's words, his expression gradually hardened.
You will never uncover the truth about my death.
Damon tightened his grip around the wooden sword.
I'll prove you wrong.
He raised the sword and assumed his stance once more.
Even though his body was exhausted, he swung.
WHOOSH!
The strike was weak and unrefined.
But he swung again.
And again.
For now, that was all he could do.
He had a long way to go before he could call himself a true swordsman.
But he had already made his decision.
He would become stronger.
No matter how many times he failed.
No matter how difficult the path became.
He would uncover the truth.
And he would never allow himself to remain helpless again.