Sethryn stood within the isolated arena, surrounded by stone pillars, the hushed whispers of ancient trees and his only spectator, Lysar, who cheered as she watched him do his thing.
His grip tightened around the hilt of the Green Mantis' Claw, the blade of the dagger glistening with an ethereal gleam that matched perfectly with the mystical aura that filled the forest.
The surrounding air was filled with anticipation as he began his solitary training.
There were not many complexities with Sethryn's movement as he swung the dagger, slicing the surrounding air like it was a foe.
His movements were deliberate and precise without any hesitation.
It was a dance of lethal elegance. A choreography birthed from the deathly intent that was growing in his mind.
Each swing of the Green Mantis' Claw moved with a purpose, a symphony of controlled power.
Sethryn's muscles ripped, his naked upper body drenched in his sweat as he executed these intricate strikes.
His focus never wavered and the greenish-black hue of the Green Mantis' Claw seemed to pulse in a perfect rhythm with Sethryn's own heartbeat.
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Long minutes turned into hours and hours turned into a few days.
Sethryn made consistent growth with his training in wielding the greenish-black dagger. Perhaps it was owed to the boost he got during his death match with the match with the mantis that shot him up to level eight.
His training flowed through distinct phases.
At first, Sethryn focused on basic stances and footwork. His body became attuned to the blade's weight and balance, adjusting effortlessly to every subtle shift.
He moved with a fluidity that belied his determination to master this enigmatic magical weapon.
As the sun arced across the sky, casting shadows over the arena, Sethryn delved deeper into his practice.
He transitioned into defensive manoeuvres, parrying imaginary foes with calculated grace.
However, he understood that his mental simulation of the surrounding foes was nothing compared to those he would meet in a real battle.
The Green Mantis' Claw, over the course of the few days he had trained, became a near-perfect extension of his arm, a sentient partner in a deadly duet.
Sethryn's breath synchronized with his movements, his mind attuned to the ebb and flow of fighting.
The concept of time seemed to blur as Sethryn honed his skills.
Every day — morning and night — he would come into the arena and hone his skill and body with one goal in mind — to become better and stronger.
Every day, the air surrounding the arena bears the full brunt of Sethryn's determination whenever he unleashed his flurry of strikes, his body a blur of motion.
His strikes were getting better at precision, aimed at phantom adversaries that existed only in his imagination.
The dagger cleaved through the air and the immaterial enemies that surrounded him with a haunting swish, its edge whispering secrets of forgotten battles.
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It was yet another day and the heat from the sun was at its peak at noon.
Sweat streamed down Sethryn's face, his breath coming in ragged bursts.
He paused, wiping his face with the back of his hand, and stared at the Green Mantis' Claw.
A sense of connection had blossomed between them — a symbiotic relationship of warrior and weapon. He whispered a silent oath, vowing to unlock the dagger's true potential.
He was becoming the blade, and the blade was becoming him as well.
As the day waned, Sethryn embarked on the final phase of his training.
He closed his eyes, allowing his other senses to guide him. The rustling leaves, the distant cries of forest creatures, the scent of earth — all merged into a tapestry of profound awareness.
With a newfound clarity, he resumed his practice, moving with a heightened sense of self and surrounding.
With the remarkable progress he made over a couple of days, the Green Mantis' Claw became an extension of his very being — an instrument of deathly precision that is guided by the unbreakable bond between blade and wielder.
Sethryn's strikes flowed effortlessly, a seamless blend of instinct and technique. He danced with the elegance of a leaf caught in a gentle breeze, yet possessed the ferocity of the wild's beasts.
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Dusk had come.
Sethryn's movements gradually slowed. He lowered the Green Mantis' Claw, his breath steadying.
A profound sense of accomplishment washed over him, accompanied by a lucid understanding of the dagger's magical essence.
He sheathed the dagger by his side, the greenish-black blade a silent testament to his commitment.
The arena, once filled with raspy breaths of exhaustion and the sound of muscles stretching, fell into a tranquil silence, holding the secrets of Sethryn's solitary training with his newfound ally.
He was ready to take up new challenges... he was ready to set out on the path to defeat the Goblin King — Jogund Gryn but one thing remained...
The experience points.
If Sethryn wished to meet the Goblin King as an equal or even fight her on the same level, he had to gather enough experience points to level up to her current level.
Sethryn rightly gauged that the green conqueror was levels above him just like the Green Magic Mantis was.
"I assume she would be above level 12," he said to himself once, gaining a nod of approval from Lysar, who did not get what he was rambling about but believed level 12 to be something powerful.
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Some days later.
Sethryn had stepped out of the coliseum with Lysar, journeying into the vast land of the Great Forest Temple and hunting one creature after the other to gain experience points.
The player was determined to farm as many experience points as he could.
His hunt for magic beasts had begun and his first target, days after training with his dagger, was a magical wild boar — similar to the one that pursued Freya, Elon and Lysar into the dark tunnel.
Determination coursed through his veins as he pushed forward, his steps cautious but purposeful.
He had spent days tracking the boar, following it back to its lair. He studied its behaviour and was determined to bring it down for his character development.
As he ventured deeper into the forest, the sunlight struggled to pierce through the thick canopy, casting dappled shadows that danced across his path.
Sethryn's senses were heightened. Every rustle of leaves, every distant call of a bird, could potentially signal the presence of his quarry.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Sethryn stumbled upon a clearing, surrounded by gnarled trees and overgrown foliage.
At the centre of the clearing, massive tracks marked the earth, evidence of the boar's recent presence. The earth seemed to tremble underfoot, and Sethryn knew without a single doubt that he was close.
His heart raced as he moved to the edge of the clearing, eyes locked onto a massive mound of earth and roots, a makeshift lair built into the hillside.
The entrance was dark and foreboding, a chilling reminder of the creature's power.
"Equip Green Mantis' Claw," he said, conjuring the greenish-black dagger into his hand.
Sethryn's grip on his blade tightened as he prepared to confront the beast whose grunting he could from the maw of its lair.