Rhaet

"Anyway, did you memorize the technique I showed you?" She changed the topic seeing him in a flustered state. He was still a child and so she didn't want him to deviate his mind from the training for now. To learn swordsmanship, starting from a young age would be most accurate, his entire focus should be on the training and nothing else.

After he listened to her, he calmed down a little.

"yes, I have." He replied.

"What I am about to reveal to you is a technique known as the Way of Slaughter. It stands alone, unrivaled in its power and potency. Once mastered, it surpasses all other sword techniques, rendering them obsolete."

Aragon's eyes widened with intrigue and anticipation. The words hung in the air, heavy with the promise of unlocking a formidable skill that would elevate his abilities to unprecedented heights.

Freja continued, her voice resonating with the authority of one who possessed deep knowledge. "The Way of Slaughter is not for the faint of heart nor the unyielding of spirit. It demands unwavering dedication, discipline, and a willingness to embrace the darkness within. But with its mastery, you will wield a weapon more formidable than any mere blade."

Aragon's mind raced, trying to comprehend the magnitude of what lay before him. The allure of such power was undeniable, but he also sensed the danger that came with it. He knew that delving into the realm of the Way of Slaughter would forever alter the course of his journey, leading him down a path stained with blood and shadow.

"It is said that the Way of Slaughter taps into the primal instincts of the warrior, awakening a ferocity that surpasses rationality," Freja continued, her voice lowering to a solemn tone. "But be warned, my boy, for this path is a double-edged sword. It can consume you if not wielded with the utmost control."

"I understand, Grandma." Aragon's gaze locked with Freja's, his determination shining through. 

"One more thing, in order to harness this skill, your mind should be very composed. Once you start to practice, your mind will be affected."

"Now go on. If you feel okay, practice for a while." She left for the kitchen.

Aragon's gaze lingered on Freja's departing figure, his eyes involuntarily drawn to the rhythmic sway of her hips and her rear. At that moment, a vivid memory flashed in his mind, replaying the scene that had unfolded just a few minutes ago.

"Little brat, Get to the grounds." She said in a stern voice.

He jolted from his seat and hurried to the back of the house.

***

Four more years passed.

These years Aragon didn't go much into the cave. He stayed most of the time in the house. He practiced and trained with the sword.

Aragon was standing with the sword held in both hands. He was trying to perform the technique. Although failing to implement it to the fullest, he tried again and again.

But he was not disappointed. Even though he failed, he made progress to a certain extent. It was not on the level that Freja showed him that day.

He had no shirt on him, with only trousers, he was wielding a sword on the grounds.

He was now fourteen. He has grown into a fine young man with proper muscle portions on his body. His black hair remained the same, reaching his shoulders, which he tied into a ponytail. He maintained and took care of his hair frequently.

He was now more handsome with defined sharp features.

Especially his black eyes.

He then walked into the house.

"Have you finished? Go and have a bath."

Freja's voice came from the kitchen. She was preparing food.

Aragon went up and walked into the bathroom. He removed his clothes and immersed himself in the tub filled with hot water.

"Haa…" he exhaled. "This is nice…" He relaxed leaning back and closing his eyes.

After a few minutes, he got up from the tub. After cleaning, he wore a pant and a white cotton tunic shirt.

Then walked down the stairs.

There he saw a man sitting at the dining table. That man wore rugged clothing. He had a heavy sturdy body with a suited beard to his figure. He was eating the meal.

Opposite him sat Freja. They were both talking.

Aragon simply walked to the table with an indifferent expression and sat beside her. He started eating his meal placed for him.

"I didn't introduce him to you, right? He is the brother of your father, The village chief Rhaet."