The long-awaited day of Arata's swordsmanship training had arrived. Grandpa placed a wooden sword in Arata's hands and began demonstrating the art of swordplay. "Focus on your opponent and your movements," Grandpa instructed, "let your actions flow effortlessly, like water." With precision, Grandpa swung his sword, slicing through the air and leaving marks on the nearby trees.
Arata observed every movement with keen eyes. When it was his turn, he closed his eyes, mentally rehearsing Grandpa's actions. Opening his eyes, he mimicked Grandpa's moves, though not with the same strength and precision. Disheartened, Arata admitted, "I couldn't match your skill."
Grandpa reassured him, "Your effort was commendable." He then introduced Arata to the concept of mana. "Mana is the essence of this world," Grandpa explained, "it fuels our magic and enhances our abilities." Demonstrating, Grandpa released his mana, leaving Arata in awe.
Excitedly, Arata absorbed this new knowledge. As Grandpa infused mana into Arata's body, Arata felt warmth spreading throughout. After hours of practice, Arata mastered the art of mana circulation, his excitement palpable.
That night, unable to contain his excitement, Arata pondered the endless possibilities of mana. With dawn, he resumed his training, eagerly learning Grandpa's Wind Blade Art.
"Have you grasped the technique?" Grandpa inquired.
"Yes, it's fascinating," Arata replied. Grandpa chuckled, foreseeing Arata's potential. Before leaving for town, Grandpa cautioned Arata against wandering into the forest.
"Take care, Grandpa," Arata bid farewell.
As Grandpa departed, Arata's expression shifted to a sinister grin. "Then let's begin," he muttered to himself, his determination evident.