The courtyard was silent, except for the rhythmic chirping of insects and the occasional rustle of the night breeze. Aiden stood in the center, gripping a simple training sword, his breath steady yet uncertain. The moon cast a faint glow over the clearing, illuminating the lone figure sitting on a nearby boulder—Takeda Renzou. His arms were crossed, eyes half-lidded, exuding an aura of absolute composure.
"Draw your sword," Takeda finally spoke, his deep voice cutting through the stillness.
Aiden hesitated for a moment before unsheathing the weapon. It was an ordinary steel blade, nothing special, but tonight it would determine whether he could step forward or remain stagnant.
"You awakened your power in desperation," Takeda continued, standing up and approaching him with slow, deliberate steps. "But desperation alone is not enough. You lost control the moment the battle ended, didn't you?"
Aiden nodded. "Yeah… I couldn't even feel it after that."
Takeda exhaled through his nose, nodding as if he'd expected the answer. "That's because you relied on instinct, not understanding. We fix that tonight."
Aiden tightened his grip. "How?"
Takeda reached into his coat and pulled out a worn wooden practice sword. "First, you learn to feel mana. Not just as a surge of power in your veins but as an extension of yourself. Right now, you're carrying it like a burden. A true warrior wields it as naturally as breathing."
With a single step, Takeda vanished from sight.
Aiden's eyes widened. Fast!
A heavy force slammed into his gut before he could react, sending him skidding backward across the dirt. He barely managed to keep his footing, coughing as he clutched his stomach. Takeda stood exactly where Aiden had been a second ago, the practice sword resting casually on his shoulder.
"That's your first lesson," Takeda said flatly. "You are weak."
Aiden clenched his fists, anger bubbling inside him. "I know that already!"
"Do you?" Takeda tilted his head. "You've survived through sheer determination, but survival isn't enough. If you want to be the best, you need control."
Aiden forced himself to stand tall, ignoring the pain. "Then teach me."
Takeda smirked slightly, his first sign of amusement all night. "Good. First, sit."
Aiden dropped into a cross-legged position, still gripping the sword. Takeda crouched beside him, placing a hand on the hilt.
"Close your eyes," he ordered.
Aiden obeyed.
"Now, listen."
At first, there was nothing. Just silence. Then, slowly, Aiden began to hear things he hadn't noticed before—the wind shifting the leaves, the faint crackle of mana in the air, the sound of his own heartbeat.
Takeda's voice was calm but firm. "Mana is not just within you. It exists around you, flowing through the world like an unseen river. Right now, yours is erratic, like a wild flame. If you force it, you will burn out. But if you guide it…"
Aiden felt a sudden warmth in his palm.
"...it will follow."
Opening his eyes, he looked down to see faint wisps of energy coiling around his fingers. They flickered like small embers, uncertain but present.
His eyes widened. "I can feel it."
Takeda nodded. "Good. Now, channel it through the blade."
Aiden took a deep breath and focused. The warmth in his palm spread, reaching out toward the sword's hilt. At first, nothing happened—but then, a soft glow pulsed along the metal's surface. It was faint, barely noticeable, but it was real.
His heart pounded with excitement. "I—"
Takeda suddenly struck.
Aiden barely raised his sword in time to block, but the impact sent him sprawling onto his back. He groaned, staring up at the night sky in frustration.
Takeda loomed over him, unimpressed. "Lesson two: feeling mana is useless if you can't apply it in combat. Again."
Aiden gritted his teeth, pushing himself up. He wouldn't quit. Not now. Not when he had finally taken his first real step toward controlling his power.
And so, the night stretched on, filled with relentless training, bruises, and quiet determination.
By dawn, Aiden was exhausted—but as he stood, gripping his sword, he felt something new.
He wasn't just swinging a weapon anymore.
For the first time, the blade felt like an extension of himself.
And he knew this was only the beginning.