Sparring

It has been four days since Harith stepped out of the hospital and began living with Mr. Zashchitnik and his son Hekal, who is two years older than Harith.

"Looks like not only did he bring me back to his house, but damn, my room is huge!"

The room isn't that big, but to Harith, it feels spacious. The house itself is located in the peaceful countryside.

"Harith, let's head to the practice range," called Hekal.

Hekal, with his kind personality and gentle demeanor, had welcomed Harith warmly.

"Coming!"

They both went to the practice range in the backyard and started practicing their swordsmanship.

"Hiiyaah!"

"Herg!"

They sparred until one of them felt exhausted.

"Well played, Harith. You have a natural talent for swordsmanship."

"It seems like you were holding back a lot during our sparring."

"Hehe, well, you do have a sharp eye."

"Before we call it a day, want one last round? But this time, no holding back."

"Hmm, alright. But I warn you, I won't be easy this time."

"Let's go."

Both of them prepared to fight with all their might. The atmosphere grew intense. Hekal started using his arts for a boost, while Harith gripped his sword in reverse.

They charged at each other at high speed, swinging their swords fiercely, neither of them holding back. Hekal started using his magic. A yellow sphere aura surrounded his body as he dashed in front of Harith, surprising him and landing a hit on Harith's arm.

"Argh!"

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Harith replied, shocked by what he had just witnessed. He realized it must be some kind of magic.

"What was that?"

"That was arts."

"Arts?"

They paused for a moment as Hekal explained. He remembered their father had mentioned Harith's amnesia, so he knew Harith wouldn't remember anything about this life.

"I guess it's okay to explain a bit. As you can see, that was arts. It comes from free energy, which can be pulled and manifested in various forms. Every living being has energy inside them. If you have enough skill, you can manipulate it into your weapon—like a sword, spear, or staff—and channel it into any form you want. It's called arts."

"Some people can't use their mana," Hekal added.

Harith felt disheartened. "I don't even know how to use it. Maybe I'm one of them."

Hekal felt guilty for making Harith feel this way and tried to encourage him. "No, you're not. I only learned to use it a year ago. It takes time."

"You're right. It's still early for me. Thanks. Now I'm fired up! Let's start the second round."

Harith was eager for the second round, but Hekal decided to end it for the day. "Maybe next time. Look, your hand is bleeding. Let's stop and let me heal you."

"Wait, what? Nice excuse, but I'm not backing down now."

"You sure? You're bleeding."

"I said I'm fine. Bring it on!"

Despite his injury, Harith charged at Hekal again. Hekal, worried about Harith, started using his arts. A blue sphere formed around Hekal, acting as a barrier.

"Aaaaaaah!"

"You two, stop at once!" Their father appeared, looking displeased.

"Father."

"Why didn't you stop, knowing your opponent was already bleeding?"

"It's not his fault, Father. I decided to keep sparring. Feel free to punish me for my selfishness."

"Huh, never mind. Hekal, there's something I need to discuss with you about tonight's patrol. Harith, go clean up that injury and go to this place for me tomorrow. There's something I need."

"Yes, Father."

As their father left, they finally called it a day.

"Let's have another duel next time."

"Sure thing."

Harith went to clean up his wound and wrap it.

"Man, Hekal is no joke. His magic is strong. I should practice more if I want to catch up to him."

After taking a bath, he was about to wrap his hand with a bandage when he thought of something.

"I wonder when I'll be able to use arts. It must be cool to use something like that."

Harith was curious and excited about what he could achieve in time.

"I can't wait for it."