Chapter 10: Sharpening Steel and Soul

The early morning air was cold, but neither Kratos nor Leonidas paid it any mind. The forest was quiet, save for the occasional rustling of the wind through the trees. Snow still covered most of the ground, though a clearing had been beaten flat and frozen solid from weeks of their training.

Leonidas stood in the center, sword in hand, his breath coming out in misty clouds. Across from him, Kratos held the familiar Leviathan Axe in one hand, but only as a tool for demonstration.

"Again," Kratos said, voice like low thunder.

Leonidas took his stance, legs slightly apart, sword raised high with both hands on the hilt. His golden eyes focused, watching his father's every movement.

Kratos shifted his weight slightly, nodding at the position of Leonidas' feet.

"Good. But now—when you strike, do not just swing. You must move with the blow. Your body, your feet, your hips—everything must follow."

Leonidas nodded, adjusting slightly.

"Like this?"

Kratos grunted.

"Show me."

Without hesitation, Leonidas moved forward, sword arcing down in a heavy strike. His form was sharp and powerful—enough to cleave through stone. But as the blade cut through the air, Kratos stepped aside, moving like a shadow, and let the strike fall into space.

Leonidas turned quickly, eyes narrowing.

"You're fast."

Kratos gave him a sharp look.

"And you are reckless. Strength without aim is wasted. Your enemies will not stand still and let you hit them."

Leonidas exhaled, adjusting his grip.

"Again," Kratos ordered.

Leonidas attacked, this time feinting a downward strike before twisting his body to slash from the side. Kratos brought the back of the axe up to meet the sword, catching the blow with a sharp clang.

"Better."

Leonidas gritted his teeth, pushing against the axe, trying to overpower his father—but Kratos didn't budge.

"Do not push," Kratos said calmly. "Flow."

In one smooth motion, Kratos stepped to the side, guiding Leonidas' sword away and letting him stumble forward. Before Leonidas could recover, Kratos brought the flat of the axe down lightly on his shoulder—not enough to hurt, but enough to make a point.

Leonidas sighed.

"I thought I had you."

Kratos' eyes were sharp as steel.

"You thought wrong."

Leonidas straightened, rolling his shoulder.

"So what should I have done?"

Kratos stepped closer, motioning for Leonidas to raise his sword.

"When you feint, you must commit to it. Make your enemy believe you. Then strike before they can see through you."

He reached out, adjusting Leonidas' hands on the hilt.

"Grip here. Loose but firm. Let the blade move like an extension of your arm."

Leonidas watched carefully, absorbing every word, every movement.

"Again," Kratos said.

Leonidas nodded, stepping back and raising his sword. This time, when he moved, his feet were lighter, his body shifting naturally with the swing. The blade came down fast—but at the last moment, he twisted, redirecting the blow, and turned into a sharp horizontal slash.

Kratos blocked the strike with ease, but his eyes narrowed in approval.

"Good. That is better. But faster."

Leonidas smirked slightly, breathing hard.

"Faster? You planning to tire me out, old man?"

Kratos raised a brow.

"Old man?"

Leonidas' grin widened, but the moment was short-lived.

Kratos moved suddenly—closing the distance between them in an instant, the blunt side of the axe swinging toward Leonidas' side. Leonidas barely managed to get his sword up to block, the impact sending a shock up his arms.

Kratos' voice was sharp.

"Do not speak before you have earned the right to."

Leonidas groaned under the pressure, pushing back and stepping away to reset his stance.

"Fine," he said, eyes burning with renewed determination. "Again."

Kratos nodded, stepping back and taking his position.

They trained like that for hours—strike, block, counter, adjust. Every time Leonidas thought he had gained the advantage, Kratos would show him just how much further he had to go. But as time passed, Kratos could see the improvement—fewer wasted movements, more precise strikes.

By the time the sun was high overhead, Leonidas was soaked in sweat, his breath ragged but his grip steady.

Kratos finally stepped back, lowering the axe.

"Enough for today."

Leonidas let out a long breath, lowering his sword.

Kratos walked over, looking at his son with that same intense gaze that never seemed to soften.

"You are improving. But remember—"

"Strength without control is nothing," Leonidas finished for him, smirking tiredly.

Kratos gave a slight nod, the closest thing to a smile he would allow.

Leonidas wiped his brow, sheathing his sword.

"Thanks, Father. I won't forget."

Kratos turned, starting to walk back toward the house.

"Tomorrow, we begin again. You will fight as though your life depends on it. One day, it will."

Leonidas watched him go for a moment, then glanced down at his hand, flexing his fingers around the hilt of his sword.

There was still a long way to go, but he was getting stronger.

As he stood alone for a moment longer, a faint hum pulsed in the back of his mind—the dormant magic of Solomon's template, waiting patiently for the day it would be unleashed.

[Template Integration: 40%]

Physical Strength: Heightened (Sparring at Kratos' level of speed and reaction) Swordsmanship: High Tier (Able to adapt and learn advanced combat forms) Magic: Dormant (Under conscious suppression) Goetia Connection: Stable, deepening

Bond Update: Kratos (+3)

"Acknowledges improvement. Continues pushing limits."