He was learning in real time through contact, through adjustment, through sheer feel.
Eryndor's expression changed.
The broad, easy humor on his face thinned into something harder and more satisfied. He rotated the greatsword once in his hands, took a wider step, and the air around him seemed to draw taut.
Trafalgar felt it at once.
A concentration of intent so complete that it pressed against instinct before the strike even came.
Eryndor's voice cut across the field.
"Take this blow."
Sword Insight finally woke.
The change was immediate and violent. Trafalgar did not see light or hear any inner chime. His senses simply flared. The position of Eryndor's hands, the angle of his shoulders, the way his right foot bit into the earth, the path the greatsword would trace once his hips turned through it, everything arrived at once with brutal clarity.
