Chapter 5. Weapon Training

After hearing Sibelle's explanation, Bastion accepted his new reality, took a bath, and changed into a heavy leather combat outfit.

The gear was designed to absorb blunt strikes while weighing enough to force him to exert extra effort just to move properly—a form of resistance training in itself.

He was then escorted to an open training ground, where a young Apprentice Knight was already waiting.

"This will be your opponent for today, Young Master," Sibelle announced.

The knight said nothing, offering only a respectful bow before drawing his sword and settling into a ready stance.

"We'll be assessing your aptitude for close combat. Choose any weapon from the rack and fight as you see fit," Sibelle continued. "Don't overthink your choice—you'll be expected to try them all eventually."

Bastion gave a small nod and reached for a longsword—the rightmost weapon on the rack. He figured he might as well go through them in order.

No sooner had he taken position than the knight charged. With a single powerful swing, the opponent disarmed him and proceeded to beat him mercilessly around the training ground.

Panic flared. Bastion hadn't been taught how to hold the sword, how to position his feet, how to distribute his weight—nothing. He'd simply been thrown into the fight with a silent, unrelenting assailant.

After five brutal minutes, the knight calmly sheathed his blade and returned to his spot.

Sibelle stepped forward, knelt, and dripped a drop of a potion into Bastion's mouth. Then she stood back, voice cold but composed.

"You may continue with the same weapon or choose another. All weapons must be tested by day's end, so make haste."

Warmth flooded Bastion's limbs as the potion took effect. Bones realigned. Bruises faded. Swelling vanished. The healing was nothing short of miraculous.

'So that's how it's going to be,' Bastion thought bitterly. 'Trial by pain. Well, fine. If they have potions like this, I'll take the beatings and learn the hard way.'

He gave up on learning anything useful today and decided to fight like a brawler. If nothing else, maybe he could at least get a few punches in.

Rising to his feet, he picked up the discarded sword—this time with both hands—and got into position.

As expected, the knight charged. Bastion leveled the sword forward, hoping to restrict his opponent's movement.

The knight batted the blade aside with a powerful swing, but Bastion spun with the momentum, bringing the sword around in a wide arc for a follow-up strike.

The knight moved to kick him down but instead stepped back, blocked the attack, and expertly absorbed the momentum rather than deflecting it outright. Then, he switched tactics—closing in and pummeling Bastion with gloved fists.

Bastion took the hits to the face like a champ and even managed to land a few punches of his own—though they seemed to do nothing. The difference in strength was obvious.

Another five minutes of being tossed around the training ground passed before the knight finally backed off.

Sibelle approached, administered another drop of healing potion, and spoke in the same cool tone.

"Choose your next weapon. Continue."

'So the goal isn't to win… it's to endure,' Bastion thought grimly. 'Alright then. Let's see if I can last longer than five minutes.'

Still opting for the sword, Bastion got into position once more—only to break into a sprint around the training grounds the moment the knight charged.

Predictably, the knight accelerated and quickly closed the gap. With a casual swat of his gloved hand, he knocked the sword from Bastion's grip and followed it up with a merciless beating, striking Bastion with the flat of the blade across his body.

Five minutes later, the knight returned to his original position, calm as ever.

'I give up,' Bastion thought bitterly. 'There's no point trying to make sense of anything when your opponent treats you like a toddler. Let's just call this training to resist torture and pray it ends someday.'

Bastion returned the sword to the rack and moved on to the other weapons.

Spears and halberds were decent at first, but the knight easily yanked them from his grip and followed up with a brutal beating.

Short swords and daggers were completely ignored—the knight simply kept his distance and swatted Bastion around like a golf ball.

Bows proved useless. The knight took the arrow to his armor without flinching and charged straight through.

The shield, however, quickly became his new best friend. It managed to blunt the worst of the blows, reducing the damage he took during each five-minute session of punishment.

In the end, he settled on a combination of dagger and shield. It gave him the best fighting chance against his overwhelming opponent. He even managed to wound the knight once—when the armored figure tried to grab the shield and got stabbed in the hand for his trouble.

After that, the knight never attempted to grab the shield again. Still, he had no trouble tossing Bastion all over the training grounds with massive swings—too fast to dodge and strong enough to launch him off his feet.

By now, Bastion had learned to land as gracefully as possible.

Come afternoon, he was forced to cycle through the rest of the weapons again. Predictably, he got beaten into the dirt. He tried axes, maces, whips, clubs, staffs—everything available.

None worked as well as the humble dagger and shield combo when it came to surviving the knight's relentless assault.

Bastion couldn't help but think it was a bit unfair to judge his performance based on his fight with the knight—someone clearly far stronger—especially when he was still too weak to properly wield most of the other weapons.

He was still a child, after all, and even hefting the halberd or other two-handed weapons had been a struggle.

Given the circumstances, it was obvious the dagger and shield were his only realistic options.

Still, he made it through the day and held onto the hope that, by tomorrow, he'd finally receive some proper instruction.

Unfortunately, his training continued in the same grueling manner every single day. Day after day, week after week, month after month—until an entire year had passed, with only the occasional change in his opponent.

He endured daily torment on the training grounds for a full year, forced to cycle through different weapons every single day.

Bastion had long since given up on mastering any of them. If nothing else, he learned how to take a beating.

He learned to deflect blows, roll with impacts, disperse momentum with precise footwork, land safely, and recover quickly.

Beyond that, he gained little of note—only how to survive, and for as long as possible.

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A year into Bastion's training, Sibelle came to Darius with a report.

"How is he, Sibelle?"

"He's proving quite talented with a shield and has learned to take blows well. He defaults to daggers in most cases, but he also shows some promise with the longsword—though his skill there is slightly below average. Interestingly, he's shown equal aptitude with whips. He manages to disarm every new knight at least once before they wise up to his tricks."

"Longsword and whips? What do you think, Esme?"

"He takes after me more than you, my love. Give him my training sword. Let's see how he handles it. By now, he should have enough mana to wield it—if only for a few seconds to disarm his opponent."

"See to it, Sibelle."

"Yes, Master."

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The next morning, Bastion braced himself for another grueling day of torture—only to find Sibelle adding a new weapon to the pile.

Unlike the others, this one took him a moment to figure out.

It was, in essence, a fantasy-style whip sword. Longer than the dagger he usually favored, it was just short enough to stab at any hands that managed to grab his treasured shield.

When he channeled mana into the hilt, as Sibelle instructed, the weapon unfurled—its tension releasing as the blade extended well beyond five meters. 

Segmented blades were spaced roughly a foot apart, and while feeding it mana, Bastion found he could control the whip with impressive precision. However, it drained his mana rapidly, limiting his usage to only a few seconds.

Releasing the mana caused the blade to retract, reverting the weapon back into a rigid sword. Even without magic, it remained functional as a standard sword.

"You've shown clear talent with the sword and shield," Sibelle said, watching him test the weapon. "Your aptitude with longswords and whips is lesser, but present. Your mother has given you her training whip sword to see if you possess any special affinity for it."

She stepped back and continued.

"From now on, you won't need to cycle through every weapon. You may choose the ones you prefer for training. Tomorrow, your close combat training begins in earnest."

"I knew this wasn't real training. I was just being tortured this past year," Bastion blurted out without thinking.

"Far from it, young master," Sibelle replied smoothly. "Torture training doesn't begin until a few months before you turn 18."

"Wut?"

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