Early morning shrouded Dima's room in the light shining through the curtains. He slowly opened his eyes and stretched out in bed, feeling the familiar coolness of the pillows.
During his stay in this world he had learnt to enjoy the morning hour, and now the early rise did not cause him the slightest discomfort. Dima smiled to himself, reminding himself of how nice it was to start the day with clear thoughts and complete peace of mind.
Soon he was washing his face at the mirror, watching the water dislodge the remnants of sleep and feeling the freshness fill his body. Soon, walking to the table where breakfast was already waiting, the lad noticed the maids, always ready to help, on duty under his door. They greeted him with kind smiles and bows, as if they had been waiting all night for this smiling young man.
Breakfast was simple but tasty: fragrant pies with stuffing, fresh fruit and a mug of hot tea. Dima dipped into the treats, feeling how every bite filled him with the energy he needed for the new day.
After breakfast, the boy went outside, heading for the garden. He breathed a full breath, enjoying the freshness of the morning air and the variety of flowers that grew around him. The bright colours of the flowers flitted amongst themselves as if they themselves were seeking his attention, and the scents swirling through the air filled him with a sense of harmony and peace. Every step on the soft grass brought him joy, and in nature's gathered bouquet he felt part of this marvellous world.
Suddenly, at the edge of his perception, there was a clinking of metal. Dima stopped, stroking his ear to the direction of the sound, listening. He quickly determined that the source was a little in the distance, and in the same direction a square building, rising majestically on the plateau, came into his view.
This structure caught his eye: its shape and sleek lines invited him to enter and discover what lay within. Driven by curiosity, the boy felt his feet carry him forward. He didn't think about the guards standing at the door; they only nodded silently in respect, allowing him to pass.
Dima already knew that every last dog knew about him here, and that's why the guards' behaviour didn't surprise him at all.
He passed a short corridor, and now he found himself on the threshold of a spacious training area.
The training ground, strewn with sand, spread out in front of him like a snow-white canvas, on which dozens of warriors fought daily in training battles.
In front of Dima, a real storm erupted - two fighters moved like lightning across the training ground. Ason and Kiechi, both dressed in blue short kimonos, were the living embodiment of skill.
Dima stepped closer, almost without realising how immersed he was in what was happening, but even from this distance it was difficult for him to follow the rapid movements of the duelists.
Ason was wielding the two-handed sword that was an extension of his arm with the demeanour of a true master. His every movement was precise and accurate, embodying calmness and confidence. Kiechi, on the other hand, glided across the platform like a shadow, her movements light and graceful. The girl, living up to her name, was throwing punches as if she had a cornucopia of deadly blades.
Each blow was swift, unexpected, and her agility and speed were staggering. Ason, on the other hand, remained unfazed. The slight smile playing on his lips gave away only a subtle hint of his excitement and interest.
The man, wielding years of experience and brilliant skills, emphatically contrasted them with Kiechi's quick throws of speed. He seemed to anticipate her movements in advance, as if he was reading her mind. Every time her short, shiny blades struck, Ason easily and confidently deflected them - there seemed to be an invisible dialogue between them, a dialogue in which the man knew his opponent's moves in advance.
'Does he really see her blows in advance? And how does she even move so fast?', Dima thought, running his gaze over the battlefield.
The fight was approaching its finale. Both opponents were breathing heavily, sweat appeared on their foreheads, dripping on the cold sand, leaving wet traces behind them. The old man, weary but persistent, turned to his granddaughter, who held back the anger in her eyes.
"You still hope for speed," he said, his voice trembling with fatigue, "and yet I have told you so many times..."
Before he could finish his sentence, the girl, unwilling to listen to his instructions, launched a new attack. She covered the distance of dozens of metres in a matter of seconds, her blades shining like lightning and aimed straight at his head.
Ason, as an experienced fighter, didn't even think of panicking. He only quickly ducked down, letting the metal blades pass over his head. The moment the girl rushed past, he kicked her in the stomach with force.
The blow was so powerful that she couldn't dodge, and inertia did its job. Her ribs crunched loudly, like splinters of wood, and her body flew a good five metres away, leaving a deep furrow in the sand.
The old man looked at his granddaughter and felt a smile form on his face. He knew the reason for her anger. 'She always reacts so funny, and my jokes,' he thought as he put his blade away in its scabbard.
Kiechi lay on the sand, clutching her stomach, her face contorted in pain. Fresh blood dripped from the corner of her mouth, and each drop seemed to take a bit of her strength with it.
But two maids were already rushing towards the girl. One of them, leaning over Kiechi, quickly exposed her belly. A white, almost transparent light, shining like a small star, burst from her hands and slowly enveloped her, filling her body with warmth.
Kiechi's face, previously distorted with agony, gradually returned to normal, and in a few minutes she was standing on her feet as if nothing had happened.
Kiechi bowed deeply to her grandfather and thanked him profusely for the sparring. He, in turn, nodded in return, his gaze full of approval. Ason, who had noticed Dima's arrival in the midst of the fight, turned his head in his direction and beckoned the boy to come over.
Dima didn't dare to anger the combat pensioner and approached the pair of duelists with a quick step.
"What do you think?" He asked with a slight sneer, grinning.
"It was something incredible," he said with admiration. - Are you two even human?
Ason laughed so loudly that it seemed even the guards at the other end of the castle could hear him. The laughter sounded like an echo of joy that filled the space around him.
"Me yes, but her - ninety-nine per cent!" he said with a grin, winking at Kiechi. Dima, standing nearby, blinked incomprehensibly, and the girl blushed a little, as if she wanted to get away from this conversation, or at least from the attention.
"And the remaining one per cent is whose?" Dima asked, genuinely curious, exchanging glances with the girl.
"Chorus, of course," answered Ason with a smile. "She is a champion, and our 'favourite' god has given her inhuman abilities. You don't think such speed can be achieved by training, do you? Even magic tricks won't help."
Dima just nodded, absorbing the new knowledge, as if Ason had opened a world before him, once again this planet shocked him with its strangeness. He felt how the thoughts about his own abilities and limitations were gradually restraining his mind.
"All right, now it's your turn," the old man suddenly said, as if pushing him to the next stage. Dima stared at the old man incomprehensibly, not expecting such a turn of events.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Ason went on, his eyes glittering with excitement. "A man should be as good with a blade and a spear as he is with his own cock. So go on and with a song, and take care of your dignity, you still have to..." He was prevented from finishing by a sharp elbow to the stomach, from Kiechi.
"Kha, there's your teacher, good luck." The Mena clan leader grunted, holding his aching stomach and pointing with his other hand to a man in armour standing nearby.
A man in a closed helmet and laminar armour approached Dima, his figure inspiring respect. In his hands he held two wooden swords. Deftly manoeuvring, he came closer and, bending slightly, bowed to Dima. He did the same without hesitation, 'politeness is everything,' Dima thought, though inside he was growing anxious.
Grabbing one of the swords, Dima immediately felt its weight. Hitting the floor with it, a strong shiver ran through his hands, quickly travelling through his whole body. The boy looked at the blade, surprised to see the wooden base.
"What is it even made of? Am I holding a rail?" he muttered to himself, not noticing the coach laughing quietly.
Soon the first training fight began. Dima, though determined, lasted only five seconds. One blow was enough for the trainer to send him into a colourful flight - he threw him aside with such ease that Dima did not even have time to realise what had happened.
The further process went in a circle: they practised blows, each time Dima was dropped to the ground again and again. And all the time he faced a new level of pain and his own helplessness. Sometimes, after another blow, he would gasp in pain and beg for a short reprieve, at which time a healer maid would run up to him.
She would carefully cast a healing spell on him, and then, as quickly as she had appeared, she would move away. The process continued. With the hope of soon getting rid of this torture Dima asked the trainer.
"Well, how much longer?" His voice sounded tired.
"At least an hour and a half more," the man in the helmet replied with a slight chuckle, but the guy couldn't see it because of the deaf helmet. Dima had no choice but to grit his teeth and continue, trying his best to learn something, absorbing every movement of the trainer.