Theoron
He initiated, getting into his stance. I dodged, trying my best to summon in time, but again, I fell short. This happened repeatedly as he refused to go easy on me. Every time I improved, he increased his pace, pushing me until I could summon in seconds. It was hard to believe I had learned so quickly—in just half a day. But before I could even celebrate, he added sword training to the combat drills he insisted I learn.
"Seems like you're getting better," he remarked, his tone approving.
"But it's not nearly enough for the monster apocalypse you'll face in ten days."
Right. The monster apocalypse. How could I forget? This guy was making me participate, whether I wanted to or not. If only I could choose a decent trainer, but no—fate had stuck me with a madman who had his own... unique methods.
Each day, we moved from energy summoning to combat and then to sword training. He sharpened my skills bit by bit, day by day. He even pulled pranks—like tossing his shoes down from trees or diving underwater just to pop up and startle me. I wasn't just training to survive monsters; I was training to survive him too. There was no denying he seemed to have two souls inside him—serious one moment, an obnoxious kid the next. And he intrigued me, especially because of his appearance. He never revealed his energy in front of me, nor had he ever removed his mask. I'd never met anyone quite like him. Why was he hiding?
My muscles ached, my hands grew rough, and each day left me exhausted. But I could feel my body becoming lighter and more agile as my movements and postures improved under his guidance.
As annoying as he was, he was serious about the training.
Over time, he replaced my wooden sword with a real one. Every day, he'd ask me to summon energy and use it to attack him creatively. I struggled with that. I could summon and move, but creating attacks with my energy was a different matter. As the days passed, he became stricter, showing me new sides of his personality.
"Two more days, kid," he reminded me. "The full moon approaches. If this is all you've got, you might as well go home."
While he said my summoning skills were good, my combat skills improving, and my sword work decent, he was unimpressed with my ability to summon creatively for battle. According to him, it was barely average. The plants I summoned in practice barely fazed him. How could I expect weak plants to harm someone as strong as him?
Every day, this problem loomed over me, and I couldn't find a solution. Creativity was my weakest point.
"Just child's play," he scoffed. That stung, but he was right. I looked at the ground in shame.
"This isn't even worth using in battle," he continued. Ten days had nearly passed, and I was still failing. He had poured his efforts into my training, and I was letting him down.
"You should go back tomorrow if you can't manage anything better than this." His tone was final.
I couldn't respond. If I agreed to leave, it would mean admitting defeat, but if I refused... I was practically inviting death. Yet, somehow, staying seemed like the better option. My past self would never hesitate to back down, so why was I holding on now?
Counting the days until the full moon, I pushed myself to improve, clinging to a thin hope. I would do everything I could.
"By tomorrow, run for your life if you want to live longer," he warned.
"Run?" I repeated, my voice wavering.
A memory flashed in my mind—an image of a terrified child staring up at a dark figure, fear evident in his trembling body and wide eyes. I could still feel the fear he had felt, buried deep inside me. I shook my head, forcing the memory down.
"When will they appear?" I asked.
"We don't know. Could be by evening," he shrugged. "Who knows."
I kept practicing as the sun dipped below the horizon, giving way to the moonlight. I had to prove myself. He had invested his time on me in these past days, and I couldn't let that go to waste. My summoning skills were quicker than before, but my attack and defense were still lacking. I sighed, frustrated. The most I could manage was rolling plants or creating simple barriers—nothing creative or powerful enough to help me in a real fight. If only I'd brought my family's ancestral book. But he'd told me not to.
"Run for your life if you want to live longer."
Familiar fearful voice echoed in my head again.
Run, Theo, run!
Regret, fear, and sadness had haunted me, driving me to where I was now.
But I wouldn't run this time.