God of Swordsmanship

As the golden sun rose over the horizon, Ashan stepped onto the training ground. The fresh morning air carried a crisp chill, and the sound of rustling leaves filled the silence.

Perched on a sturdy tree branch, Elowyn, too excited to stay in her human form, had transformed into a peacock. Her white feathers shimmered in the morning light as she settled in for a perfect view of the training session.

Boris had arrived before Ashan and stood at the center of the training field, his arms crossed in patient anticipation. His sharp eyes, however, softened when he caught sight of Elowyn's peacock form. A warm smile crossed his face.

Ashan noticed and smirked. "She's beautiful, isn't she, Grandfather?"

Boris nodded in admiration. "Of course. She's one of the most magnificent birds I've ever seen. A true masterpiece of nature." He chuckled. "Back then, I never asked her to show her animal form. It would've been rude. But now that I see it, I understand why she's so special."

Ashan glanced up at Elowyn, who tilted her head, watching them curiously. "She's ten years old. A year younger than me."

A sudden thought crossed Boris's mind, and a knowing smirk played on his lips. 

"You two are always together. She follows you everywhere. I even heard from your mother that you two share the same room. Tell me, do you like her?"

A calm smile formed on Ashan's face. "Yes, I do."

Boris raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

"But as a friend," Ashan continued. "I think she stays close to me because I'm the most familiar person here to her. She's lost, far from home, and she treasures her family. That's why I protect her. It's my duty."

Boris's smile widened with pride. 

This boy… He didn't hesitate, didn't get embarrassed. He answered with clarity and understanding. Truly mature for his age.

Clearing his throat, Boris took a step forward. "Enough talking. Let's begin. Unsheathe your sword."

The air grew heavy with anticipation as both Ashan and Boris drew their swords. The cold steel gleamed under the morning light.

Boris tightened his grip and closed his eyes. The very air around him seemed to shift.

Sleesh!

A brilliant red glow erupted from his sword, forming a shimmering layer of energy. The aura extended the blade's length, making it appear sharper, more powerful.

"This is an Aura Blade," Boris explained. "You've probably seen your father use this before."

Ashan nodded. "Yes, I have."

"But you've never learned how to form one yourself," Boris continued. 

"Only those who reach the High Sword Master level can make it. You, however, are still in the first stage of that level, meaning you lack the power to fully form it. But if you learn how to channel your aura properly, you can make your sword sharper and deadlier."

Boris demonstrated, slashing at a nearby training dummy. At first, the dummy seemed untouched—then, with a crack, it shattered into countless pieces. The aura blade dissipated as Boris sheathed his sword.

"Did you see that?" he asked.

Ashan nodded, eyes gleaming with determination.

"Now, close your eyes and follow my instructions."

Ashan obeyed, gripping his sword tightly.

"First, focus on your aura core. Open it, but don't let the energy spill freely. Channel it through your hands—carefully. Guide it through your muscles, not your bones. Let it flow into your sword."

Ashan inhaled deeply, visualizing the aura's movement. Soon, his blade began to glow—a faint mixture of red and yellow. Sparks flickered along the edges.

Boris's eyes widened in surprise. 

Incredible. This is his first attempt, yet he's already caught the flow. Even though it's weak, forming an Aura Blade on the first try is unheard of.

Minutes later, Ashan lowered his sword, the glow fading away. He looked at Boris expectantly. "How was it?"

Boris clapped his hands together. 

"Impressive, son. Truly impressive. The blade was weak, but that's normal for a first attempt. If you keep practicing, your core will grow stronger, and eventually, your blade will reach its full potential."

Then, Boris raised two fingers. In an instant, a small, glowing red blade, about four inches long, materialized above them.

Ashan's eyes widened. "You formed an Aura Blade without a sword?"

Boris nodded. "Yes. This is an advanced technique called the 'Free Blade' or 'Swordless Blade.' It requires the same amount of aura as a regular Aura Blade but manifests without a weapon."

"But it's so much smaller," Ashan observed.

Boris smirked. "Yes, but size isn't everything. Watch."

He slashed at another dummy—without touching it. A sharp gust of energy followed his movement. A moment later, the dummy split in half.

"When using an Aura Blade, your sword must make contact," Boris explained. "But a Swordless Blade releases an aura slash that cuts through the air. Its power depends on the quality and amount of aura infused into it."

Then, Boris added two more fingers to his stance. The aura blade doubled in size.

"This is my limit. Any longer, and it becomes unstable. If I push it too far, it will explode. Only those who surpass the High Sword Master level can wield a Swordless Blade. Grand Sword Masters can form one the size of a normal sword. I am halfway to that level."

"Is it possible to form two Swordless Blades—one in each hand?"

Boris chuckled. "I expected that question. The answer is yes, but only a select few can achieve it."

Ashan's curiosity deepened. "Who are they?"

Boris looked up at the sky, his expression solemn. "Do you know about the God of Swordsmanship?"

Ashan frowned. "I've heard the name before, but I don't know much about him."

Boris tightened his grip on his sword. 

"Among all sword users, only one person in an era earns that title—the strongest of them all. A warrior who has reached the absolute pinnacle of swordsmanship. They can cleave mountains in half with a single strike. They are revered across all kingdoms, sometimes treated as royalty."

Ashan listened intently.

"When I was young, I dreamed of earning that title myself," Boris continued. "But someone else has claimed it in this generation—and at a much younger age than expected. He resides in Dragoria, and his true name remains unknown. But what is known is that he is the only one capable of forming two Swordless Blades."

Ashan's eyes sparkled. "That's amazing! If he's that powerful, he must have countless disciples."

Boris shook his head. "No, son. He has only fifteen."

Ashan's excitement turned to confusion. "Just fifteen? Then they must be from noble families."

Boris smirked. "No. Wealth and status mean nothing to him. He chooses only those with pure, unmatched talent."

A sudden thought struck Ashan. "Grandfather, then what about the Dragorian King? What stage is he in?"

Boris crossed his arms. 

"Ah, the King… He is at the same level as me—between High Sword Master and Grand Sword Master." He paused before adding, "And you should know something else. The King's firstborn son, Prince Edan, is one of the fifteen disciples of the God of Swordsmanship."

Ashan raised his eye brows.

To be continued…