Chapter 7 - A Swords Hilt

Nine long years had passed since Zareth began his workout journey. He had reached the age of ten and had grown significantly in terms of stature and overall power

He was around 4-foot 8-inches, which was the average height for a ten-year-old. His hair was a deep and dark red, with lines of black that flowed out as well, while his face still looked young but very handsome and elegant.

His body had changed far more drastically, as it was now very developed.

If one looked close enough, one could see the visible layer of muscle that Zareth had on top of his body with his clothes removed.

However, he still looked just like a normal kid from a quick glance.

His basic stats had gone up quite a bit due to these consistent workouts, along with the heavy amounts of food he consumed.

Not only bread and fruits, but Zareth also gobbled down every and any piece of meat he could find.

Meat was happiness, meat was life...

By the age of six, the amount of meat that his mother brought for the three of them would barely be able to sustain only him, so, drastic changes were forced to be made to the meal plan of the family immediately.

Still, the amount of meat Zareth would eat became consistently overbearing, even to the point where a line was placed as to how much meat he could consume.

This line was placed by his mother at age nine, so by now, Zareth hadn't eaten a satiating fill of meat in over a year.

His cultivation rank on the other hand had barely increased.

Freya kept her eyes on Zareth like a falcon. She was far too obsessed, not even letting him go for a pee without keeping an eye.

Due to this, Zareth never found any place or time to use Hale. Although he could have used it at times, he still didn't want to inevitably risk getting caught by his mother.

If his mother saw him cultivating mana, lord knows what she would do.

Probably not eat or sleep for days because of the worry, and somehow find to put even greater restrictions on Zareth.

Zareth wasn't liking these restrictions already forced upon him. I mean, what kind of parents were they?

Not allowing their child to have any free space whatsoever and constantly bearing down on him with rules and regulations. It was extremely exhausting to consume it all.

If it had been any other retarded child, they would not have obeyed whatsoever, however, Zareth did.

His hopes were to gain the trust of these two, or at least his mother since Drufus was kind of easy to deceive at times.

However, it was impossible. F*cking impossible.

Zareth did not know if being a good child lifted his restrictions or made them even heavier.

By now, Zareth had enough of this torture. He had no ability to eat what he wanted, have any freedom, or gain real strength apart from just muscle building.

He was not some Socrates, that bastard turned old and frail ages ago in the Immortal Realm.

No, he wanted true power. One that came along with supernatural magic.

Right now, Zareth was doing push-ups outside of his cottage next to his father who was training shirtless under the blazing sun and throwing sweat everywhere.

Freya didn't have any sort of opinion on Zareth doing these body-weight style workouts. She was only slightly confused by it.

However, Drufus on the other hand teemed with joy on seeing his boy want to become stronger.

"Yes! That is how a man should be!" He often proclaimed.

However, Freya never let him even touch a sword...

This was something that even Drufus quite clearly disagreed with, however, his voice pretty much meant nothing as long as Freya was still around.

Zareth didn't hate his mother for this, for he knew that he was years, no, eons older than her.

In his eyes, she was nothing but a young girl with an immature mind who stressed too heavily over small aspects, and also a mother who loved her child too much.

Yes, that is a thing.

Of course, there was no point in trying to reason with her.

Even Freya herself knew that the concept of not letting Zareth train with the sword was quite dumb, however, she was far too adamant and arrogant in her worry to accept her own flaws in thinking.

Right now, Freya wasn't home.

A rare sight!

She had entrusted Drufus to take care of Zareth fully and had gone into the market to shop for monthly groceries.

After Zareth finished with his set of push-ups, he sat on the grass and rested while watching Drufus train.

Eventually, Drufus paused and stuck his broadsword into the ground.

"Hey, you know what? Pick up two small wooden swords from over there." Drufus suddenly said to Zareth, pointing to the sword rack nearby.

Zareth was slightly surprised.

"What? But mothe--" He was cut off.

"Oh, mother isn't here right now! And frankly, I don't like the fact that she won't let you train with the blade." He paused for a moment, racking his own broad-sword as Zareth picked up the wooden ones.

"My father always said, the way of the blade is not to hurt others, but to protect the ones you love. Hell, she pretty much married me because of my dedication to the sword. I can't possibly begin to understand what's going on in that complicated mind of hers." He paused once again, looking to the side as though to think.

He then caught one of the wooden swords Zareth threw at him before casually walking away to make some space between the two.

After looking back at Zareth, he said

"Don't worry. You will understand one day when you come of age." Drufus smirked.

Zareth looked at his father and cringed slightly on the inside. He just had to ruin an okay speech with a corny line.

As he made adequate space between him and his father, Zareth distracted himself with the sword in his hand.

He let out a small sigh and closed his eyes, completely grasping the hilt of the sword.

'It has been far too long.' He thought to himself with an absolutely honed state of mind.

Zareth knew for a fact that his child body was nowhere near enough to be able to handle his original sword fighting technique.

However, just feeling the hilt of a sword was enough to bestow peace upon him.

He finally opened his eyes.

Immediately, everything in his vision became more clear.

He could sense the individual blades of grass in his vison getting flushed against the calm morning breeze.

He could feel the tingling sensations of every hair on his body touching against his skin.

And most importantly of all, he could see his fathers positioning, and could sense what move he was going to make next just from his stance.

it wasn't future-sense or anything, but the ability to predict based on slight twitches of the human body.

Like how when a person throws a punch, they lean back and cock their fists before releasing. The same concept applied to sword fighting as well.

"Well then grand master, shall we begin?" Drufus mocked his son's serious expression before preparing his own battle stance.

"Go!"