Henry cautiously opened his eyes and spared a glance at his surroundings. The last thing he recalled before blacking out, was being engulfed in a strange white mist. As soon as he contacted that dense fog, a sudden drowsiness overwhelmed him.
Doing his best to suppress the shiver that crawled down his spine, the young farmer narrowed his eyes. He found himself in a moderately sized clearing, one that wasn't overly large nor overly small.
To the left, a treeline stood, presenting the entrance to a forest. To the right, however, a small cottage lay nestled beside a well. The bucket - tied to a pulley mechanism that was used to scoop the natural water - swayed lightly in the breeze.
Henry would have found the lack of activity very disturbing if not for the presence of another individual. The man was bare-chested, sweat sliding down his well-defined muscles. He wore a set of loose trousers that enabled him to move without restraint.
He clutched a spear tightly in his grasp. The metal tip glinted ominously, reflecting the sun's luminesce so that it almost blinded Henry when he tried to gaze at it.
The green-eyed trainee surveyed the figure intently. He saw the man's face pinch together in determination and focus before he let the spear in his hands loose.
The weapon blurred as it sailed through the air.
Again and again, the man continued to thrust with his spear. Henry idly wondered if the bare-chested figure never tired, for he had not let up for a single moment ever since the young trainee had set his eyes on him.
Shout after shout, the Spearman attacked, melding his strikes together effortlessly in what seemed to be an elaborate dance. As he peered closer at the individual's technique, Henry's mouth opened slightly.
Instead of a normal strike, he felt the spearsmanship on display possessed a vivid elegance and beauty. To where it invoked certain emotions within him.
Henry thought art was the only thing able to bring forth sentiment within a person. So what was this?
'Blasted Appleseeds! This is more than art. This is… grace, elegance, suffering, loneliness, and determination all in one!'
Watching the spear travel through the air, a certain feeling couldn't help but bloom within the humble farmer. It resonated with him in the deepest depths of his being.
From an early childhood people always ridiculed him for being the son of a farmer. It didn't help that when kids his age noticed his threadbare clothes, they immediately felt themselves loftier due to having the means to buy nice clothing.
Other times, they mocked him for his smell…. 'Ew, he smells like a pigsty! Get away from him.' was just an example of what he had experienced on an almost daily basis.
Particularly in school.
The way the man used the sleek weapon spoke of a tale of constant disdain, always looked down upon for not having a mighty status. Yet that didn't prevent him from aiming for the skies.
If anything wound up in his way, he would just thrust through it. Be it Demons, Nobles, or even the thrice-dammed King himself, nothing was worthy of preventing him from achieving whatever he desired.
Nothing would stop him.
Nothing could surpass his resolve…
Infected by the man's sheer determination, Henry continued watching with rapt attention for a long time. Eventually, he blinked out his trance and found the figure still thrusting with his spear, the cadence of his steps never faltering.
Even when night fell, illuminated by the dim light of the constellations, he remained as he was; spear in hand and continuously attacking.
The green-eyed trainee was blown away. His mind failed to grasp how or why the bare-chested figure continued whatever he was doing.
No matter the time, the place, or whatever else occurred in his surroundings, his sole focus was on the weapon in his hand.
The young farmer found that trait very admirable. His respect for the Spearman grew. In his mind, Henry had made it a point after the trials to follow in the steps of the figure. No matter what happened, he would not give up.
The raven-haired trainee clenched his fists tightly.
Eventually, the first rays of dawn quickly turned into morning, before the sun finally sat at its zenith. It was now noon.
Henry did not feel like he had spent a whole night observing a person train with his spear. Even now as he looked out the corner of his eye, the figure did not stop moving.
Henry scratched his chin as he wore a pensive expression. His thoughts strayed to a different matter.
He had spent what he presumed to be a whole day, yet he felt no thirst nor any intense pangs of hunger.
Did his body stay in the same state before he had entered the Cabin?
The young farmer felt this was close to the truth. He shifted his gaze to the well with the swaying bucket. An idea gradually formed in his mind.
Henry stopped short a few steps away from the well. He took a steady breath before his hands shot forward, attempting to clutch the bucket. Yet to his amusement, he found his hands phasing through the object entirely.
Again and again, he tried, yet the result was the same.
'Interesting..' the trainee mused to himself.
He did not panic. Rather, he analysed his current predicament with a logical approach.
The purpose of the trial itself was just to observe. He couldn't affect anything within its purview. After some contemplation, that was what he had gleaned.
Henry narrowed his eyes. If the trial wanted him to observe, then observe he shall!
The farmer once again gazed at the bare-chested individual with great scrutiny. He studied his movements and the mental picture the spear was trying to form.
After his previous immersion that lasted the whole night, Henry felt he was on the right track.
Now he just had to persist.
No matter how long it took, he would get to the bottom of the trial!