A year passed.
I was 11 and maybe a quarter.
I stood within a small parting within a golden hay field.
In front of me, stood my swordsmanship teacher.
We both held wooden swords, chipped on the edges and poorly handled.
I was always afraid of getting a splinter but my fears never came true. That was nice.
Ahem.
It must've been early morning because I somehow felt both amazingly active yet surprisingly slouchy at the very same moment.
My teacher seemed to be twice as tall as me, from the perspective of my young self.
Every time I saw his form, I guiltily adjusted mine, in hopes of mimicking even a sliver of his perfection with the blade.
On this very day, I was to be evaluated in swordsmanship, to see if I had learned a thing from all my years of hard work.
I was told the Village elders had high hopes for me, considering that my swordsmanship Teacher was also my guardian.
That certainly didn't make things any easier...
I was wearing thin black robes, exposing a V in my chest, and my teacher wore smooth raven-blue robes that made him seem mysterious in my eyes.
"Are you ready?"
I nodded slowly.
"Of course, Teacher."
I straightened my posture.
My breathing was unstable, but I couldn't attempt to tame it because my teacher could pounce at any moment.
"Then I hope that you will show me all that you have learned over 6 long years."
I smirked lightly.
"Are we finally starting?"
My teacher closed his eyes humbly.
His skin was like primordial gold under the beaming sun.
"Hush."
He rose his sword to the middle of his figure.
"Now, we begin."
Fwoosh.
In one movement, he was right before me, his sword was already being swung down.
I couldn't get hit.
Not if I wanted my teacher to be able to look at me with any pride whatsoever.
It would be dangerous to try to dodge his strike , my teacher was far too fast for me.
So I placed my sword, high above me, and prepared for impact.
Thud.
My wrists winced as his sword smacked into mine roughly.
My teacher tested me calmly, increasing the power from his end as our blades met each other in the middle of our clash serenely.
'It's too much...'
I gave up.
Using a small gap, when my teacher momentarily loosened the power he was outputting in our clash, I used all the power in my legs to dash to the right.
He followed me, and his blade was already in mid-swing, ready to bonk me on the head amusingly.
'Not today...'
I muttered sacred words under my breath.
"Vruldov Style..."
I leaped into the air fearlessly, his nearing blade would not reach me in a thousand years.
I was spinning, and my back was facing him.
But it was all a part of the movement.
"Dark strike."
My body whipped around, and my wooden sword rapidly shot forth
My teacher effortlessly parried my strike.
A light thud resounded.
I continued striking mercilessly, but my teacher parried my blows as if he could see exactly where they were going from the moment I began moving my blade.
My arms were getting tired.
My teacher began counter-attacking, and I had no choice but to weakly block a few of his blows, which caused ripples of pain to crash through my figure.
I could feel my body becoming far more dissatisfied as the duel went on.
I ran up to my teacher to strike one more time, there was a grave look on his face.
'Is teacher disappointed?'
I got careless.
My teacher kicked me hard in the stomach.
I was sent tumbling back, several spots all over my body shrieked with burning pain.
I looked up and my teacher was tutting loudly.
"You're better than this."
"Move faster."
"Strike stronger."
"Think smarter."
"These are the basics, my student."
"If you cannot follow those, then you have no right to stand before me as a proclaimed swordsman."
I nodded seriously, my expression hardened.
With every ounce of effort in my being I blitzed forth.
I was like a restless demon.
I pounced from left to right, hoping to muddle my teacher on where I was going to strike from.
I muttered another set of sacred words under my breath in the midst of my charge.
"Vruldov Style."
Muscle memory squealed within my body, remembering the years of training that had scarred my being wholly.
The reason I did not use a movement from the Vruldov Style whenever I had the chance to attack was the huge strain that it put on my body.
And that huge strain was what happened if the movement was enacted successfully.
If I failed a movement of the Vruldov Style, I could end up with a crippling injury.
That was why the villagers who took up swordsmanship had to start at an early age, so that they could be fully qualified to handle the Vruldov Style.
But now, I had to use yet another movement of the Vruldov Style.
I couldn't disappoint my teacher.
At that moment, only two thoughts rang out in my mind.
'I'm too slow.'
'I need to strike first.'
So I needed to be fast.
And only one movement of the 12 Movement Vruldov Style came to mind.
I pulled my blade back, as I pumped my arm up with all the power it needed.
"Thunder."
I struck forth and blitzed through my teacher like a heavy blur, I saw his eyes widen as I burst past him with explosive speed.
I now stood behind my teacher, I had felt my wooden blade slide across his olive skin calmly and if this were a battle, I knew that blood would have been drawn.
I had struck my teacher with a heavy blow.
My teacher had a light smile of appreciation hidden under his serious gaze.
"Good. That is the way."
"Now try to finish me off."
I turned around slowly and readied my body.
I accepted his offer swiftly.
With a strong dash forward, I unleashed yet another movement of the Vruldov Style without even a moment of hesitation.
"Vruldov Style."
"Splitting wind."
My blade struck 4 times.
Each strike was foul and fast, but my teacher blocked all of them calmly.
He then used my moment of momentarily pause to send his blade crashing down.
I sent my blade up, to block his but something went wrong when his blade smacked into mine.
Thud.
A heavy force ravaged through my system.
And everything broke down.
"ARGH."
I collapsed.
Using the Vruldov style so much had tired my body out, and continuing to push forth had only worsened the damage.
But this was a battle.
So I had to keep pushing, no matter how dire the consequences were.
My teacher was truly cold and indifferent in battle, he tried to strike me whilst I was down on the ground.
I rolled to the right and used the moment to pick myself up and swing my blade out.
My teacher allowed my swing to swish past his garments frustratingly.
My teacher began letting out long, tiring and heavy blows in an attempt to exhaust my being even further.
I dodged a few, and I got scathed by a few.
My lungs were burning.
My eyes were twitching.
My body was broken.
All I had left was the wooden sword in my hands.
"Vruldov Style..."
I panted heavily as my teacher sent forth another huge swing.
I ran into his huge swing and it somehow missed me, my teacher's bare exposed chest was now in my striking range and his sword was behind me.
It was the perfect chance.
"Gasher."
Power infused itself into my mind.
With unseen devotion, I drove my blade across my teacher's chest.
My blade had scraped across my teacher's chest deeply.
In battle, all of his intestines would've flown out gruelly as my blade left his body.
My teacher had a proud smile on his face when I looked up still unsure if this even counted as a win.
"You pass."
"Congratulations, my student."
"You are now a swordsman in the eyes of the village."
"The youngest, too."
I held a joyful smile.
"Heh."
I dropped to the ground in dire exhaustion.
My teacher looked down upon me with a light smile, I could tell he was proud and I was all for his proudness.
My teacher made me carry his wooden sword on the way back, he said my arms needed more strength because my blows were weak.
I acted as though I understood what he was talking about. Truth be told, I just thought my teacher was being a bit lazy. Like we all were at points.
When we returned he served me some fresh bread alongside some local spices, a delicacy in the village.
"Well done, Sultra."
"You've done well."
I bowed earnestly.
"Thank you, teacher."
He patted me on the head lightly.
"Eat."
I did as such, humming happily as I did so.
The two of us ate for a good hour as I asked about all my new perks.
It felt good, when my teacher referred to me by my name, Sultra.
His daughter was there too, but I didn't really notice her presence.
She became a swordsman too in the following week.
Good for her.
I, Sultra Azeran had all I needed to progress in life.
I was a Duelment, a wielder of two soul affinities.
I was a recognized swordsman at the age of 11. The youngest, ever.
At the rate I was going, I had no true competition for the title of Village Chief.
I would've lived a good, hearty life where I wouldn't have even needed to step foot onto the fields for hours at a time like the workers.
Everything could've been perfect.
Until he came.