I stood outside the shop, holding the books tightly in my arms.
Voices came from inside.
Not clear—
but loud enough to know it wasn't a calm conversation.
I didn't move.
I didn't open the books.
I didn't even glance at them.
Duracal had said not to.
So I waited.
After some time, the door opened.
Duracal stepped out.
His expression was… off.
Slightly irritated.
A little gloomy.
I wanted to ask what happened—
but I held back.
Not everything needed to be questioned.
We returned home.
He went back to the forge.
I followed.
The same routine continued—
hammering,
shaping,
refining.
Work kept the silence between us from feeling heavy.
By evening, as we were closing up, Duracal finally spoke.
"Do you know my affinity?"
I paused.
"…Fire," I said.
"I've seen you use it. But I don't know if you're a mage or a knight."
He let out a short breath.
"Every human is born with mana," he said.
"What matters is how you shape it."
"Breathing methods refine it. Strengthen it. Push it further."
"But once your body adapts to one path—"
he looked at me—
"changing it becomes dangerous."
"Backlash?" I asked.
He nodded.
"Best case—you lose control."
"Worst case—you cripple yourself."
Then he said it plainly.
"I'm a mage."
I blinked.
My eyes instinctively scanned his body—
broad shoulders, solid frame—
more like a knight than most fighters I'd seen.
He noticed.
"I use my body too," he said calmly.
"Don't mistake appearance for limitation."
Then he continued,
"I'll guide you."
"Only through books—and basics."
"I won't interfere with your path."
"Shield magic—you'll learn on your own."
"If you have doubts, ask."
"I'll teach you… once a week. At night."
I nodded.
I didn't ask why.
Some answers weren't given freely.
The next day—
I was working in the forge when I heard a voice.
"Oi!"
I stepped outside.
Rathen stood there.
Wooden sword in hand.
He tossed another one toward me.
I caught it.
"Because of you," he said,
"I lost a bet."
A grin spread across his face.
"So now—"
he pointed the blade at me—
"I get to train you."
I glanced back at Duracal.
He just smirked and returned to his work.
No help there.
A part of me—
wanted this.
To see where I stood.
I stepped forward.
Beast Footwork activated.
I closed the distance instantly.
Planting my right foot, I swung my sword downward with full force.
Rathen didn't move.
He lifted his blade vertically—
slightly angled—
redirecting my strike.
Clean.
Effortless.
My sword slid off his.
I twisted my wrist mid-motion—
turning the deflection into a horizontal strike toward his neck.
He stepped back.
Just enough.
The strike missed.
I didn't stop.
I planted my sword into the ground—
using it for balance—
and kicked toward him with my right leg.
Dark aura reinforced my leg.
A feint—
but also real.
He shifted to the side—
and struck my leg with his wooden sword.
Pain shot through—
but dulled.
The aura held.
As expected—
his blade dropped slightly after the strike.
An opening.
I dragged my foot slightly—
kicking up dust.
A small cloud rose toward his face.
At the same time—
I swung again.
Wide.
Horizontal.
Aimed to blind and strike together.
Stopped.
Not by his sword—
but by the handle.
He blocked it casually.
Rathen smirked.
"Learned a few tricks, huh?"
Then—
he moved.
A straight thrust.
Fast.
Clean.
Deadly.
Toward my chest.
I didn't step back.
Instead—
I planted my left foot and twisted my body.
My sword moved to intercept—
but his strike changed.
Mid-motion—
like a snake.
The blade slipped past—
and struck my stomach.
The impact landed.
Hard.
I hadn't covered that area with aura.
Pain surged through me.
I gritted my teeth and stepped back.
Breathing heavier.
Rathen lowered his sword.
But his eyes—
they were different now.
Focused.
Interested.
Like he had just found something worth testing.