Picking a path

Three months passed in a blur.

Michael's days were consumed by relentless training, each session pushing him past his limits. He never complained—each bruise, each ache, was a step forward. The more he trained, the more routine it became and before he knew it, summer had faded into autumn.

The training grounds, once bathed in the golden warmth of summer, had transformed. Leaves rustled in the crisp air, their green replaced with vibrant yellow and deep red. A sharp breeze carried the scent of damp earth, stirring the dust that rose beneath his feet.

'Damn it!'

Michael barely had time to brace before Sarah's sword came crashing down. The impact sent a violent tremor up his arms, nearly forcing him to his knees. Gritting his teeth, he twisted his wooden sword, angling it just enough to deflect hers. The force of it stung his fingers, but he used the moment to step back, resetting his stance.

'Were they feeding her steroids as a child!?'

He never voiced his frustrations, but his thoughts were a constant stream of curses. His grip on the sword tightened unknowingly. Three months, and he still couldn't land a clean hit on her. Meanwhile, his body was practically a map of bruises, each one a painful reminder of how far he had left to go.

He exhaled sharply, forcing himself to focus. 'Charging in headfirst is a mistake. I need to think—'

Sarah, however, wasn't going to wait for him to strategize. The moment she saw him falter, she lunged. A blur of motion. A sharp gust of wind.

The mana within him surged, his instinct screamed. Move! 

Michael reacted on reflex. Instead of blocking or dodging, he struck first, his sword flashing toward her exposed arm. His timing was perfect. His angle was flawless. His attack would—

Miss.

Sarah withdrew her blade with impossible speed, pivoting into a spin. Before he could process what had happened, her sword lashed out in a perfect arc, slamming into his side.

'S*it!'

The pain was immediate, a shockwave exploding through his ribs. He barely registered the ground rushing up to meet him before he hit the dirt, his breath stolen from his lungs. For a moment, all he could do was lay there, his ribs throbbing with every inhale.

Sarah loomed over him, her sword resting against her shoulder. Her breathing was calm—too calm as if their entire fight had been nothing more than a light warm-up.

"Let's call it a day" She said.

"S-sure" Michael wheezed, dragging himself up with his sword as support.

"You're improving fast" Sarah praised, though her gaze flicked to her sword-hand—her grip was unusually tight. His attack had almost caught her off guard. Almost.

"Perhaps it's time for you to choose a path" She continued. "Your control of mana is still crude—you can only maintain it briefly in battle—but your fundamentals are promising"

"Path?" Michael asked, still pressing a hand to his aching ribs.

"Yes. There are countless ways to grow stronger, countless ways to wield mana. However, a jack-of-all-trades is a master of none. The best way forward is to commit to a single path and master it first"

She gestured toward her own weapon. "For example, knights focus on defense and overwhelming power. They use mana to enhance their muscles, granting them explosive strength and endurance. That is the path I follow"

Michael listened carefully. What she said made perfect sense. One could wield a sword, a spear, or even a bow, but a beginner trying to juggle too many disciplines would never truly master any. It was better to specialize first and branch out later.

"What path would you recommend for me?" He asked naturally.

Sarah considered him for a moment before speaking. "Your ability to sense mana is outstanding. But your control? Lacking, to say the least. That rules out magic, which requires precise control, and knighthood, which demands constant mana reinforcement. Your true gift lies in your instincts. You could become a swordmaster—someone who channels mana into their blade to unleash devastating single-strike attacks. But if I had to choose, I'd say the path best suited for you is that of a blade dancer"

"Blade dancer?" Michael frowned. "That sounds more like a street performer's title"

"You're mistaken" Sarah said firmly. "If I had to sum up their combat style in three words: Speed. Evasion. Intuition. Blade dancers don't fight head-on. They evade, reflect attacks, and use their surroundings to their advantage. In an entire battle, they might attack only once—but that one strike is always lethal. The reason they are called blade dancers is because their movements are like an art form. A dance, if you will"

Michael was silent for a moment. Then, slowly, a grin formed.

"This... actually sounds kind of cool" He met her gaze. "I think I'll try becoming a blade dancer"

Sarah nodded approvingly. "A great choice"

***

Michael collapsed onto his bed, utterly exhausted. The lingering pain in his ribs was a constant reminder of Sarah's training. If it weren't for his mana reinforcement, he was certain she would have broken something by now.

"At least I have some time to rest—"

A loud knock at the door shattered that hope.

Groaning, he pulled himself up and answered.

Sarah stood at the threshold, flanked by two servants carrying neatly wrapped packages.

"May I come in?" She asked.

'Not like I can refuse, can I?' Michael stepped aside, eyeing the parcels with curiosity. "What brings you here so late?"

"A gift" Sarah replied, snapping her fingers. The servants stepped forward, carefully placing the packages on the nearest table before unwrapping them.

"As a hero, you can't fight with a wooden sword, can you? Consider this a celebration of your choice—the path of your own making" She retrieved a sleek, one-handed sword from the table.

"A blade dancer requires a weapon that is an extension of their will. Here, take it"

Michael took the sword—and immediately noticed its near-weightlessness. Even his wooden training sword had felt heavier.

"This is… incredible" He murmured, giving it a slow, experimental swing.

"It's forged from Elium" Sarah explained. "A rare metal with the strength of steel and the weight of a feather. It's also enhanced with runes for durability and rust resistance"

She picked up a second package—a suit of black leather armor.

"This is made from the hide of a crescent wolf. It's thick yet supple, providing mobility while still offering a respectable level of protection"

Michael ran his fingers over the smooth, flexible material. "Thank you. I'll put this to good use"

"About that…" Sarah's expression shifted slightly. "You might get your first opportunity sooner than expected"

Michael narrowed his eyes.

"Along with Roman and Helga, you'll be departing tomorrow for the Sombra region to deal with a rising monster infestation" She explained, some excitement mixed into her tone. "I'll be accompanying you as your protector, but make no mistake—this is your mission. A chance to prove yourself and your worth" 

Michael exhaled slowly, tightening his grip on the sword.

'So it begins…'

Unlike Sarah, he did not share her enthusiasm.