The morning sunlight streamed through my bedroom window, bathing the room in a soft glow that made it hard to believe the events of the previous night had been real. My body ached faintly, a dull reminder of the fight with the Beartling, and my mind buzzed with thoughts about what had happened—and what it meant.

  As I dragged myself out of bed, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of urgency. The fight had been a wake-up call. My training with Wes was already intense, but if I was going to survive whatever dangers lay ahead, I needed to push myself even harder. Last night, I’d relied on instinct and adrenaline, but that wouldn’t be enough next time.

  After a quick breakfast—though my appetite was nearly nonexistent—I slipped out of the house and headed to Wes’s shack at the edge of the village. The air was crisp and cool, carrying the scent of dew-covered grass. Despite my exhaustion, I felt a strange sense of clarity. I’d faced a monster and lived to tell the tale. That had to count for something.

  When I reached Wes’s shack, he was already outside, leaning against the doorframe as usual. A faint smirk tugged at his lips as he spotted me. “Morning, kid,” he called out, tossing an apple from hand to hand. “You’re late.”

  “I’m not late,” I said, rolling my eyes as I approached. “You’re just early.”

  “Excuses, excuses,” he said with a chuckle, taking a bite of the apple. “So, how’d your big ‘not-a-date’ go yesterday? Did you impress the girl with your knightly charm?”

  I groaned inwardly. Of course, he wasn’t going to let this go. “It wasn’t a date, Wes.”

  “Sure it wasn’t,” he said, his grin widening. “You’re blushing just thinking about it.”

  “I’m not—” I started, then stopped myself. There was no point in arguing. Wes was like a dog with a bone when it came to teasing. “Can we just get started?”

  “Not until you tell me how it went,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning back lazily. “Come on, kid. Don’t leave me hanging.”

  I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “Fine. We went to the forest, played around, found some cool stuff, and came back. Happy?”

  “Sounds like a great time,” Wes said, his tone exaggeratedly dreamy. “Did you hold hands? Maybe a little kiss under the trees?”

  “Wes!” I snapped, my cheeks burning.

  He burst out laughing, clearly enjoying my embarrassment. “Relax, kid. I’m just messing with you. But seriously, it’s good that you took a break. You’ve been pushing yourself hard lately.”

  I hesitated, his words striking a chord. Wes didn’t usually comment on things like that. For all his teasing, there was an underlying seriousness in his tone that caught me off guard. “Yeah,” I said quietly. “It was nice to take my mind off things.”

  “Well, you’ve had your fun,” he said, straightening up. “Now it’s time to get back to work. Let’s see if that little forest adventure of yours did anything for your reflexes.”

  We moved to the training ground—a patch of open land behind his shack, surrounded by tall grass and a few scattered trees. The sun was higher in the sky now, casting warm light over the area. Wes picked up a wooden training sword and tossed another one to me.

  “Today’s focus is speed and control,” he said, twirling his sword casually. “You’ve got power, kid, but power’s no good if you can’t hit your target.”

  I nodded, gripping the hilt of the sword tightly. Wes wasted no time, lunging at me with a speed that left me scrambling to block. His strikes were quick and precise, forcing me to move constantly to keep up. My muscles burned with the effort, but I pushed through, refusing to let him overwhelm me.

  “Better,” Wes said as I managed to parry one of his strikes. “But you’re still hesitating. Trust your instincts.”

  I gritted my teeth, focusing on his movements. He was faster than the Beartling, but his attacks were more predictable—patterns I could read if I paid attention. As he swung again, I sidestepped and countered, my blade grazing his side.

  Wes grinned. “Now you’re getting it.”

  We continued for what felt like hours, the rhythm of our movements becoming almost hypnotic. Wes pushed me harder than usual, forcing me to adapt and think on my feet. By the time we finally took a break, I was drenched in sweat and gasping for air.

  “Not bad, kid,” he said, tossing his sword aside. “You’re improving.”

  “Thanks,” I panted, sitting down on the grass. “But I still have a long way to go.”

  “You’ve got the basics down,” Wes said, sitting down beside me.

  “Now it’s just a matter of refining them. That takes time.”

  I nodded, wiping the sweat from my forehead. For a moment, we sat in silence, the only sound the rustling of the grass in the breeze. Then Wes glanced at me, his expression more serious than usual. “So, what’s really on your mind, kid?” he asked. “You’ve been quiet today.”

  I hesitated, debating whether to tell him about last night. Wes wasn’t the type to overreact, but I wasn’t sure how he’d feel about me sneaking into the forest and fighting a monster without him knowing. Still, if anyone could understand, it was him.

  “There’s something I need to tell you,” I said finally.

  Wes raised an eyebrow. “This sounds serious.”

  “It is,” I said, taking a deep breath. “Last night… after I got back from the forest with Miquella, she showed up at my window. She wanted to go back to the forest—at night.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Please tell me you didn’t.”

  “I tried to talk her out of it,” I said quickly. “But she wouldn’t listen. She said I was being a scaredy-cat and dared me to go.”

  Wes groaned, running a hand through his hair. “And you went. Of course you did.”

  “I couldn’t just let her go alone,” I said, my voice firm. “She’s fearless, but she doesn’t understand how dangerous the forest can be. I thought… I thought I could keep her safe.”

  Wes sighed, shaking his head. “Kid, you’ve got a good heart, but you need to think these things through. What happened?”

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  I swallowed hard, my mind flashing back to the fight. “We ran into a Beartling.”

  His expression changed instantly, his body tensing. “A Beartling? Are you serious?”

  I nodded. “It came out of nowhere. It was huge—bigger than anything I’ve ever seen. And it was fast.”

  Wes stared at me, his usual smirk replaced by a look of concern. “How did you get away?”

  “I didn’t,” I said quietly. “I fought it.”

  He blinked, clearly taken aback. “You what?”

  “I used my magic,” I explained, the words tumbling out in a rush. “At first, I tried to slow it down with [Stone Wall] and [Spiky Assault], but it broke through. Then I used [Fire Barrage] to stun it, and finally, I combined [Earth Pillar] and [Fire Lance] to create a spell I’d never tried before. It worked. I killed it.”

  Wes stared at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he let out a low whistle. “Kid, you’re full of surprises.”

  “I didn’t have a choice,” I said, my voice quieter. “If I hadn’t done something, it would have killed us both.”

  Wes nodded slowly, his gaze distant. “You did what you had to do. And honestly? I’m impressed. Taking down a Beartling with just magic at your age… that’s no small feat.”

  I felt a flicker of pride at his words, but it was quickly overshadowed by a lingering sense of unease. “It was just luck,” I said. “A miracle.”

  Wes studied me, his sharp eyes seeming to see right through me. “You’ve got talent, kid. I’ve known that from the start. But this? This is something else.”

  I hesitated, then decided to tell him the rest. “There’s more. When I used [Hot Pillar], I adjusted the temperature of the flames without even thinking about it. It was like… like my body knew what to do before my mind did.”

  Wes frowned, his expression thoughtful. “That kind of control doesn’t come easy. Most mages spend years training to do what you just described.”

  “I don’t understand it either,” I admitted. “But last night, it felt like everything clicked. Like the spells weren’t just tools—they were a part of me.”

  He was quiet for a moment, then reached out and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Listen, kid. Whatever’s going on with you, it’s not a bad thing. It’s scary, sure, but it’s also a gift. You’ve got the potential to be something great. But you’ve got to be careful. Power like that can get you into trouble if you’re not ready for it.”

  I nodded, his words sinking in. “I’ll be more careful. I promise.”

  “Good,” he said, his usual smirk returning. “Now, let’s get back to training. You’ve still got a lot to learn, and I’m not letting you slack off just because you killed a monster.”

  I smiled, feeling a newfound determination.

  We kept training until Wes finally called for a stop, his voice cutting through the rhythmic clash of wooden swords. My arms felt like lead, and every muscle in my body screamed for relief. I dropped to the ground, panting, as the sun hovered high in the sky.

  "Not bad, kid," Wes said, leaning casually on his sword. "You're finally starting to move like a fighter instead of a lumbering ox. I think you're ready for the next step."

  I raised an eyebrow, too tired to respond with anything more than a questioning look.

  "The Night Style," he continued, his tone suddenly more serious. "You know all the Novice-Tier Techniques by now—probably better than most. But I think it’s time you learned an Expert-Tier move."

  My heart skipped a beat. The idea of moving beyond the basics and stepping into the realm of true mastery sent a thrill through me.

  "Really?" I asked, sitting up straighter despite my exhaustion.

  Wes nodded. "You've earned it. But don’t think it’s going to be easy. The Novice-Tier Techniques are child's play compared to what I’m about to teach you. This is the real deal."

  "What's the technique called?" I asked, my curiosity burning.

  He smirked. "It’s called Phantom Step. It’s the cornerstone of the Expert-Tier Night Style. It’s not just about moving fast—it’s about moving invisibly. Your opponent won’t even see you coming until it’s too late."

  "Sounds… impossible," I admitted, my excitement tempered by a wave of doubt.

  "That’s what everyone thinks at first," Wes said, tossing his wooden sword aside and picking up his real blade—a sleek, dark weapon that seemed to hum with energy. "But I’m going to teach you. And if you stick with it, you’ll be an Expert-Tier Night Style swordsman by the time we’re done."

  The thought sent a jolt of excitement through me. Becoming an Expert-Tier Night Style swordsman would be a huge leap forward—not just in terms of skill, but in proving to myself that I was capable of handling the challenges ahead.

  We started immediately. Wes explained the technique in painstaking detail, demonstrating the subtle footwork and precise timing required to execute the Phantom Step. The idea was to use a combination of controlled breathing, explosive movement, and deceptive body positioning to create the illusion of vanishing from sight.

  It sounded straightforward enough in theory, but in practice, it was a nightmare. I stumbled through the first attempts, tripping over my own feet and landing flat on my back more times than I cared to admit. Wes didn’t hold back his criticism, either.

  "Too slow," he barked as I tried again, my movements clumsy and uneven. "You’re hesitating. Stop thinking so much and move!"

  "I am moving!" I snapped, frustration bubbling over.

  "Not fast enough," he said, his tone unrelenting. "If you keep this up, the only thing you’ll be stepping into is an early grave."

  I gritted my teeth and pushed harder, determined not to give up. Day after day, we practiced. The technique demanded every ounce of focus and energy I had—and then some. By the end of each session, I was too exhausted to do anything but collapse onto the ground, drenched in sweat and gasping for air.

  Weeks turned into months. Progress was slow—agonizingly slow. There were moments when I felt like I’d never get it, when the frustration and exhaustion threatened to overwhelm me. But every time I hit a wall, Wes was there to push me through it.

  "Again," he’d say, his voice as steady and unyielding as ever. "You’re getting closer. Keep at it."

  And so I did. Little by little, the movements became smoother. My footwork grew faster, more precise. The hesitation that had plagued me in the beginning faded away, replaced by a growing sense of confidence.

  Then, one day, everything clicked.

  We were in the middle of yet another grueling session, the sun beating down mercilessly as I focused on the sequence Wes had drilled into me a thousand times. I took a deep breath, clearing my mind of everything but the movement. My body seemed to move on its own—fluid, seamless, and instinctive.

  In the blink of an eye, I was behind Wes, my wooden sword pressed lightly against his back.

  He froze, his head turning slightly as he glanced over his shoulder. For the first time since we’d started training, he looked genuinely surprised.

  "Well, I’ll be damned," he said, a slow grin spreading across his face. "You did it."

  I lowered the sword, my heart pounding with a mix of exhilaration and disbelief. "I… I did it?"

  "You did it," Wes confirmed, his tone filled with pride. "Welcome to the Expert Tier, kid."

  The words hit me like a bolt of lightning. After two months of sweat, frustration, and countless failures, I’d finally mastered the Phantom Step. The realization filled me with a sense of accomplishment unlike anything I’d ever felt before.

  "Thanks, Wes," I said, my voice quiet but earnest.

  "Don’t thank me," he said, clapping me on the shoulder. "You earned this. But don’t think for a second that you’re done. There’s always more to learn, and the higher you climb, the harder the fall if you’re not careful."

  Ronan Grimstone

  Achievements:

  Human Style of Swordsmanship: Expert-Tier

  Night Style of Swordsmanship: Expert-Tier

  Fire Magic: Novice-Tier

  Stone Magic: Novice-Tier