It had been a few hours since the master told me he would teach me how to become a knight, yet I had only been watching and waiting at the edge of my seat as he paced back and forth.
"Mister, when will we start learning how to become a knight?" I asked.
Visibly annoyed, he fixed me with a serious gaze. "It's just, I've never taught anybody—and never even considered it."
He scratched the back of his head, pausing as he thought. "Okay, let me just tell you what it is to be a Holy Knight."
"In this world, there are two distinct forms of power. The first is divine energy, reserved solely for Holy Knights. This power is not something you can simply learn or take by force—it is a gift bestowed only by the goddess herself. To receive divine energy, you must first prove your worth in her name. You must undertake arduous trials, demonstrate unwavering valor, and ultimately pledge your loyalty to both the goddess and the royal family. Only then will you be chosen, and only then will the sacred power flow through you.
I had always been a squire to my brother, confined to the fringes of our household, never allowed near his training quarters or the halls where matters of importance were discussed—they always sent me away.
"So, what's the second form of power?" I asked.
The master continued, "The second form is known as magic, and it is the domain of heretics. Unlike divine energy, magic is drawn from dark forces—demons, to be exact. It is corrupt, tainted by evil, and is not meant for those who walk the righteous path. That is why, no matter what, you must steer clear of magic and destroy those who practice it. There can be no blending of these powers; one uplifts and sanctifies, while the other corrupts and destroys."
That statement left me shocked. "Can divine energy turn back time?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
The question caught the master off guard. His eyes flashed with anger as he roughly grabbed my arm. "Where did you hear that?" he demanded, his tone harsh.
"Stop, you're hurting me," I protested, my voice shaking with pain and disbelief.
He stepped back, loosening his grip as he tried to regain control. "So, can you tell me where you heard that?" he repeated, his words slow but still full of anger.
"I don't know—I was just spouting some ideas," I replied, my heart pounding as I looked for a way out of his fury.
He looked unconvinced, his gaze piercing into me, but in the end, he decided to let it go for now.
"Okay, let's start your training."
He then ordered, "I want you to swing your sword 10,000 times before sunset."
I was stunned by how simple it sounded at first. For the first hour, I swung my sword as fast as I could, each strike a desperate bid to move on to the next task. The repetitive clang of metal against air filled the clearing, echoing in my ears. But soon, fatigue crept in. I managed just over 240 swings before my arms began to shake uncontrollably. I took a deep breath, realizing I had no choice but to pace myself if I hoped to survive.
So I kept swinging. With every swing, my muscles burned as if they might tear apart. The pain was relentless—sharp migraines throbbed at my temples, and nausea clawed at my stomach until I finally vomited, a bitter mix of sweat and bile. I was on the verge of collapse, my vision dimming with every passing minute, yet I could not stop. I swung my sword, over and over, each movement a battle against the pain.
Time blurred into a haze of agony and determination. An hour passed, then two. The weight of my exhaustion grew heavier with each swing, and I could feel my resolve being tested like never before. By the time ten hours had slipped away, I was barely aware of my surroundings. The sun had long set, its light replaced by the deep indigo of approaching night, yet I was still far from reaching 10,000 swings.
My hands were raw, cut, and bleeding, the stinging pain a constant reminder of my limits. Every swing felt like it might be my last, yet I pushed on, my body screaming in protest. Finally, as I neared my breaking point, a heavy hand clamped down on my wrist, halting my frantic swings.
"It's time. You can stop," the master said coldly.
The world tilted violently, and my legs gave out beneath me.
I then fainted from exhaustion as my concentration broke.