Days of training.

The Goliath of a man didn't go easy in my training. His punches hit harder than bullets, always aiming for weak points. His sword strikes pelted with more unrelenting force than rain. Every thrust and slash of his spear emanated the strength of a master. The way he used the gun was something close to perfection. His stance with the bow never wavered. However it felt like something was missing. Each hit and attack felt, I don't know, half complete, as if they were mere imitations of the real thing.

Third day of training.

Tiredness crept into my eyes. The long day of training couldn't be described in any other way than hellish. The memory of the day replayed itself through my mind. I was astonished by my master's strength. I've felt this feeling before, when grandpa killed a bear with his bare hands. The scar that ran down his right eye was proof of his victory. Now that I'm thinking about it, the days he brought back monster corpses, his hands were always glistening with blood. The thought made my teeth grit. No one could kill him, it's impossible, however the dead don't lie.

Sleep took me into its greedy grasp, as I slowly snoozed off.

Seventh day of training.

The training was completely flipped on its head, over the week I could see weakness in his attacks, however seeing weakness and utilizing it is a completely different story. But it all changed when I won a battle. The master's eyes gleamed and his face looked almost proud. 

Fourteenth day of training.

"Master, if you don't mind me asking where did you learn how to fight."

His face stiffened. He closed his eyes as if remembering something. 

"That, is none of your business." His sturn response went against his usually relaxed attitude. 

However, more than anyone I know it's easier to just forget. 

Master gets up and readys himself. The last training match ended as quickly as it started.

Master let loose a punch, and I found his weak spot and hit him in the nuts. Ungentlemanly yes, but effective. And so ends the last day of training.

Standing before the ruble that was once a house. We say are goodbyes.

"Master." I couldn't help but let out some tears. "I'll miss you"

"Wait." he pulled out a checkbook, and handed one to me. "Take this to a bank." He continues. "Take the twenty grand and sign up to a good hero school,"

Those words shocked me. Nothing in me could thank him enough for this.