It's been a week since my affinity was revealed at the cathedral, and honestly, this past week has felt like a living hell. My mother, who usually exudes such warmth and kindness, transforms into something else entirely when it comes to swordsmanship training. She's known as Lily the Sword Saint, a title that once sounded like an accolade but now feels more like a curse. She's not just good; she's reached the saint rank, a level so high that most can only dream of it. And she's relentless in her training methods.
"Will, is that all you've got?" my mother shouts, her voice slicing through the air as sharply as her sword. I'm on the ground again, gasping for breath after being knocked down for what feels like the hundredth time today. Her strikes are fast, precise, and unforgiving. She hasn't even used any sword skills yet, just raw technique, and it's overwhelming.
"I'm not even using a sword skill right now, so I think you might have a chance," she adds, her tone almost mocking.
Lily the Sword Saint—just the thought of it sends a chill down my spine. The ranking system for swordsmanship goes from Beginner, Intermediate, and Advanced, to Saint, King, and Emperor. My mother, the kind and gentle figure I've known all my life, is a Saint, a rank that many would give anything to achieve. But to me, right now, she's less of a saint and more of a devil.
I push myself up from the ground, gritting my teeth against the pain radiating from my limbs. I'm exhausted, every muscle screaming in protest, but I can't back down now. Not in front of her.
"Mother, when will you teach me a sword skill?" I ask, frustration edging into my voice. We've been sparring like this for a week, and I haven't learned a single skill. All I've done is dodge, parry, and get knocked down. Over and over again.
She pauses, considering my request with a slight smirk. "I understand." Her tone is calm, but there's a challenge in her eyes. "I will give you a handicap. I will fight you with my eyes covered and only use my left hand. If you win, I'll teach you the beginner swordsmanship skill."
Her words hang in the air, and I can hardly believe what I'm hearing. She's going to give me a handicap? It feels like a blow to my pride, but I know she's serious. If she fights me at full strength, I wouldn't stand a chance. But still, accepting this handicap feels like admitting defeat before the fight even begins.
"Mother," I say, mustering all the courage I have. "How about this instead: you don't use any sword skills, and I'm allowed to use magic?" I know it's a bold proposition, but I want to win on fair terms—or as fair as I can get against someone of her caliber.
She narrows her eyes at me, but there's a flicker of approval there. "Fine," she says after a moment. "But on one condition: you must win within one week, and you only get one chance a day."
Seven chances. That's all I have. It's better than nothing, but it's also terrifying. I nod, accepting her terms.
"I accept," I reply, my voice steady.
"Then the first battle will start now," she says, her voice firm. "Ready yourself within five minutes."
"Right now?" I blurt out, not expecting to start so soon.
"Yes, right now," she replies, her eyes narrowing with that same fierce intensity. "Do you have a problem with that?"
I swallow hard, shaking my head. "No, I don't have a problem," I manage to say, trying to hide the fear creeping up my spine.
"Good," she says, tossing a coin into the air. "When this coin lands, the battle begins."
I take a deep breath, positioning myself on the opposite side of the yard. My mind races, strategizing how to use my magic to gain the upper hand. If I can keep her at a distance, I might stand a chance.
The coin hits the ground with a soft clink, and before I can fully register the sound, she's already moving. She closes the distance between us with terrifying speed, her wooden sword slicing through the air toward me. I barely manage to react in time.
"Water Shield!" I shout, and a wall of water erupts in front of me, towering over my mother. It's a beginner spell, but one I've practiced relentlessly. The water forms a solid barrier, as hard as stone, and I breathe a small sigh of relief.
But she's too quick. She changes direction, darting to my left, and I'm forced to cast another Water Shield to block her. She anticipated that move as well, easily shifting her momentum to my right. She's herding me, forcing me to use up my energy on defense.
"I'm prepared for that," I mutter under my breath, and then, with a surge of determination, I leap backward, collapsing the water shield in front of me.
"Water Arrow!" I shout, and three arrows of water shoot out from the remnants of the shield, streaking toward her. With the speed she's moving, there's no way she can dodge them.
"I win," I whisper to myself, a triumphant smile forming on my lips.
But my victory is short-lived. Before I can even process what's happening, I'm on the ground, my vision swimming as I feel the cold, hard tip of a wooden sword pressing against my throat.
"Eh?" The sound escapes my lips before I can stop it. How did she do that? My arrows should have hit her. I should have won.
"I lost," I say, my voice hollow as the realization sets in. She's in a completely different league.
She pulls back, her expression softening as if nothing had just happened. "Tomorrow, same time," she says, her voice devoid of the fierceness she had during the fight.
And just like that, her entire demeanor changes. The fierce warrior who had just bested me is gone, replaced by the gentle, caring mother I've always known.
"Will, what do you want for dinner?" she asks, her voice bright and cheerful.
It's like she's completely unaware of the battle we just had. I blink at her, still trying to process everything. "Anything is fine," I mumble, still dazed.
"Okay! Then I'll decide what's for dinner tonight," she says with a smile, turning to head inside the house.
I'm left alone in the backyard, staring up at the sky as the events replay in my mind. What was that just now? How did she defeat me so easily? My Water Arrows were supposed to hit her, and yet she closed the distance and disarmed me in the blink of an eye.
"I won't win against her if I don't figure out what she did," I whisper to myself, the determination in my voice returning. I stand up, brushing off the dirt from my clothes. I have six more chances. I'll use each one to get closer to her level. I have to.
As I head inside, my mind is already racing with strategies, ideas, and spells I could use. My mother may be a Sword Saint, but I'm her son. I'll find a way to win. I have to.