WTC

The morning sun had risen, reclaiming its position in the celestial sky. Its gentle glow spread across the room, filling it with a sense of awakening.

Micah squinted as the sun’s rays dazzled him, momentarily blinding his vision. He sat up, rubbing his eyes and trying to adjust to the brightness.

He got up, the sunlight now bathing the room in a warm embrace. He stretched, feeling the day’s potential unravel before him.

But amidst the brightness, one figure stood out—Asiris.

Asiris was standing in the room, surprising Micah and almost waking Peter. “Um, sir, is something wrong?” Micah asked, troubled by the unexpected appearance.

“No, but it’s best if you come with me.”

“Okay,” he replied. “Get dressed, and meet me downstairs. I’ll send someone with you,” Asiris instructed.

With purpose, he closed the door, gently rousing Peter from his slumber. “What’s going on?” Peter mumbled, still half-asleep and disoriented by the sudden brightness.

By the time he turned, he found an empty bed, pushed-out sheets indicating Micah’s early departure.

Determined to embrace the day, he dressed in his princely attire with the help of one of the attendants.

“Hopefully, you enjoy this outfit,” she said, securing the belt around his ensemble.

Micah looked up confidently, trying to sound polite. “Thank you, madam.”

“You’re welcome.”

By the hall, a messenger sent by Asiris as previously ordered awaited him, guiding him to the elevator room. The carpet transitioned to green, a detail that didn’t escape Micah’s notice.

He pondered what Asiris had in store, a mix of excitement and curiosity building within him.

Before he knew it, the door swung open, propelling Micah towards his destination.

It was a spacious arena, surrounded by trees and lined with concrete. The fresh air and the anticipation of the day’s activities energized him.

He stepped out, greeted by Asiris brandishing a wooden stick.

It was a branch, mimicking the size of a sword, and Asiris held another, its grip almost slipping from his hand.

He promptly handed a stick to Micah, who was now very intrigued.

“If you’re wondering what this is,” Asiris explained with a dark chuckle, “it’s the Wooden Training Center, or WTC.” Micah was delighted but also intrigued by the name.

“It’s for training,” Asiris clarified. “Let’s see what you can do.”

He positioned the stick with precision, gripping it firmly by the handle.

“This is the stance you must adopt for sword fighting.”

Micah nodded, attempting to mimic the stance.

“Alright—on my count, one, two, three.”

Suddenly, Asiris spun his stick, startling and exciting Micah. He raised his stick in response, feeling the collision between the two.

Asiris responded with a laugh.

“Now, when it comes to this, you need to study your opponent’s movements.”

Micah nodded, finally releasing his grip on his stick. “Now, let’s try this again,” Asiris suggested. “And try not to seem so scared when doing it.”

Micah again nodded, this time striving to adopt a stance that would offer him a solid defense against Asiris.

He chuckled at Micah’s attempts, then initiated an attack.

Raising their sticks, they engaged in a friendly battle. Micah was gaining confidence, driven by Asiris’ encouragement.

Inspiration struck, prompting him to duck under Asiris’ arm, attempting to pin him down.

No.

The stick halted him in his tracks.

“If you intend to be sneaky, you need to execute your maneuvers swiftly before your opponent catches on.”

In a playful gesture, he flicked the stick out of Micah’s hand, leaving Micah to laugh nervously.

“Pick it up.”

Micah did so, attempting a different stance this time.

“Now, let’s say your opponent is shorter than you. You’ll direct your weapon downwards, then upwards.”

Micah again for the third time nodded. “Okay, next,” Asiris ordered, now changing his stick towards an upward position.

“If he is taller or at the same height as you,” Asiris advised, “Then, keep your sword upwards towards their neck.”

Micah this time didn’t nod but gave a determined thumbs up.

In satisfaction, Asiris complemented, “Good; now let’s try again.”

He now took a more accelerated position, thrusting the stick faster.

Micah decided to focus on blocking this time, trying to discern the pattern Asiris used.

He treated the stick as if it were a shield, attempting to stab in the exposed moments. So, he decided to create distance, using Asiris’ momentum against him. He finally came in with a big swing, almost catching Asiris off guard.

But it was unproductive due to the quick duck Asiris executed.

Turning back, Micah was welcomed with a friendly kick, stumbling backward.

He dropped the stick due to his body’s instability, which Asiris promptly picked up.

“You see, that was the stone stance, which is best for swordsmen.” Realizing his mistake, Micah shamefully got up, returning his stick, which now had a near-chipped top. “What you did was unnecessary,” he said, emphasizing that Micah should never use that move. “When you swing, make sure your grip is not too close to the bottom, and try not to add too much power when you foresee a failed attempt.”

Still a bit confused, Micah did his best to comprehend.

“Okay, now before you embarrass yourself more, follow my lead,” he said, lowering his tone to a calm voice. This only left Micah more skeptical and confused.

Asiris positioned the stick at the top of his calf, which Micah did the same.

He slowly moved, gesturing for Micah to follow suit.

They continued this for a while until Micah’s legs started to ache.

“When are we going to stop?”

“Till I say so.”

He gulped, now scratching the sudden itchiness on his leg.

As he was done with that, he looked up—suddenly, Asiris charged towards him at full speed.

The staff was raised, and Micah found himself almost smacked senseless from the attack.

Almost.

Closing his eyes, he drove his staff out, hoping he wasn’t injured from the attack.

Terrified, he opened his eyes slightly—seeing the staff broken into pieces, as well as Asiris.

“Wow,” he muttered, transitioning from fear to amazement. Finally, they disarmed themselves, dropping their weapons lazily on the floor.

“Well,” Asiris praised. “You actually broke the staff!” Micah, quite puzzled by his amazement, asked, “What?”

“You just unleashed a snippet of your power.”