Damian was holding a bow, his muscles tense.
His gaze was fixed on a target on a far tree.
The thoughts started to crawl into his head.
"If I take a vector of it and multip..."
He didn't let his thoughts distract him.
He let his body do the work for him.
His fingers relaxed, letting go of the bowstring.
The arrow cut through the air with a whistle.
He shot another arrow.
And another one.
It was funny, really. All his long years of training could be expressed with a single shot.
Every day, he would come here, shoot a lot of arrows, miss most of them, and then repeat.
Every single day. The same thing.
Not entirely the same to be honest, his arrows did start to miss less with practice. But Alrick moved his targets to the trees that were further and further away from him, so he was forced to learn again.
And yet, he stubbornly refused to stop improving.
Today is the last test of his archery.
He would be allowed to venture on a hunt with Alrick if he passed. Which he desired deeply, he wanted to see a world outside for a long time now.
He was worried sick, not understanding even why he was so nervous.
There is nothing important to lose, his life wouldn't end from a missed shot.
But deep down, he felt it.
The arrows MUST hit the target, there is no other option.
And so, he relaxed his fingers.
The arrow was shot.
And then another one.
And another one.
His heart is racing, his eyes are focused, and the world seems to slow down. Arrows move in a predictable path, clearly, there is no mystery about where it will hit and when.
And yet, there was.
Damian couldn't think, couldn't move, he could just stare at the arrow that moved painfully slowly. It's vector, it's trajectory, it's ballistic. Nothing matters.
The only thing that exists is an arrow and a target.
And oh, what a view it is.
Arrow slowly, and gradually penetrates the target on a tree. Disturbing its rough texture, clearing a path for itself. The force propels it even further. A testament to the archer's resolve and tenacity.
Pure satisfaction.
THUMP THUMP THUMP
3 arrows hit the target right in the center, proudly protruding from it.
Damian exhaled with relief. His body was assaulted by a sense of tiredness, he was as tense as a bowstring himself. And now, all this pressure is finally released.
He is tired, but pleasantly so.
-Well done.
Alrick muttered a rare praise with no emotion whatsoever in his voice.
-Thanks, Uncle Alrick...
The young boy slightly smiled. A rare sincere smile.
-Tomorrow you will go to the hunt with me, be ready.
Alrick dropped these words off and calmly walked away.
Damian breathed a little, and then, the thought crossed his mind.
"Ah, what a drag, I did all this to just go outside the village, and that's everything he has to say….. Would it really kill him to show at least some emotions? Maybe I should create large wooden boards with emotions on them so he wouldn't be so helpless in that regard? Well, on the other side, he will totally strangle me during my sleep if I do this, better not risk it. Anyway, time to go and train with Gerard, eh, why can't I rest…. Afagnir or what, please give me weekends"
********************************************************************************
The "training" that Gerard put Damian through was as usual.
Painful.
Somehow, Gerard managed to hit such areas where it hurt the most but didn't affect Damian's capability to fight.
Well, didn't affect him physically, psychologically Damian was helpless.
-Concentrate, don't let your body succumb to pain, keep your eyes open.
Damian heard these words countless times already.
Still, it didn't help.
He never managed to escape the first strike.
Gerard said that he wouldn't be able to do it, but nevertheless,
It hurt.
Physically and mentally.
Damian wasn't even able to see that first strike.
The second strike was at least traceable, but only so. Gerard swung his staff so swiftly that Damian could only approximately feel where he would be hit.
Sometimes, the strike was so fast that he could feel where it would land just by the wind stream that it generated.
If not for the torturing pain, he maybe would even be able to capitalize on it.
And yet, despite the harsh training regime, Damian was improving, if ever so slightly.
He still was feeling the pain in the same way as before, but he was learning to refocus his senses.
It was clearer and clearer for him what Gerard meant when he said:" Control your impulses"
Damian wasn't getting accustomed to pain or anything, but he learned how to enhance his other senses. He tried to focus more on his sight and hearing than on his sense of touch.
It is hard, but now at least he doesn't get enraged so quickly and easily.
He was quite ashamed of his first training, to be honest.
In retrospect, it didn't make much sense. Sure, he was maintaining a charade of a happy teenager so everyone here would like him, so it would make sense to act a bit out of control to show that he had hit puberty, but even then… he was too aggressive.
Unnaturally so.
Although, after the previous accident, he managed to never repeat that mistake again.
DUN
Gerard struck, Damian got hit.
It would be nice training if not for the fact that a middle-aged man is physically abusing a teenager, and Damian started to suspect that he's enjoying it.
But it's only a suspicion, for now.
-Concentrate, don't let your body succumb to pain, keep your eyes open.
That again.
Oh well, he might as well concentrate.
The first strike, as always, came so fast that the boy didn't even manage to see it.
Shouldn't a staff just break him into two pieces at that speed? Gerard must be really good at knowing where and how to swing that staff of his.
Anyway, he really couldn't think about it right now. As always,
Pain.
The pain was like a tsunami breaking into a dam of his focus.
Instinctively he wanted to let it break the dam and be done with it.
But for now, he withstood, even if pain managed to grab most of his attention, it wasn't his whole attention this time.
Knowing that every moment spent feeling the pain is a moment wasted, he tried to focus on predicting and blocking the strike.
He opened his eyes.
His body hasn't entirely succumbed to pain.
He concentrated, if this state could be called concentration.
And then, he felt it.
A subtle gust of wind, a blurry silhouette of a staff, a sharp sound of rippling air.
He knew it, Gerard was aiming at his left shoulder.
It wasn't a realization, it wasn't a calculation, it was…. a feeling.
His body just knew.
He just felt it.
Not wasting a single moment, he used every ounce of his power and focus just to get his staff right before his left shoulder in time.
The movement was…. really desperate, he did it quite clumsily, every adequate attack would be able to throw him off balance with no effort. And yet, it was better to be thrown out of balance than to experience that torture once more.
A dull sound reverberated throughout the glade.
Wood has hit the wood.
Damian eyes widened.
He felt the upcoming sense of triumph, he deflected his first strike ever, and surprisingly, the hit was so… weak.
"I… I really did tha…."
The boy realized why the strike felt so weak.
It was to make the second one faster.
A dull sound reverberated throughout the glade.
Wood has hit the head.
"Ouch….."
Triumph didn't last long.
"Still, a pleasant feeling, even if it lasted only a moment"
-You did good, Damian.
It was actually really nice to hear. Gerard, following Alrick's school of thought, wasn't very generous with praises, so it made an impact.
-Uh…Thanks, Uncle Gerard.
That was it for today's training. Damian will finally receive his well-deserved rest.
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