The next morning, the training field was abuzz with energy. The sky was clear, and the sun cast its warm light over the recruits as they gathered in neat rows, swords strapped to their sides. The instructor, Oreon, stood at the front with a confident smirk.
"Today," Oreon began, his deep voice cutting through the chatter, "we're learning Sword Aura."
The recruits straightened at his words, some whispering among themselves in excitement.
Elijah didn't know what to expect, but something about it intrigued him. Sword Aura wasn't a skill one learned through books or theoretical study—it was a manifestation of pure will, an extension of one's mana.
"Sword Aura is an aura that encompasses any object to increase its power. It generally surrounds the sword user and their blade, significantly enhancing its destructive force," Oreon explained, pacing in front of them. He paused dramatically, turning to face the recruits. "If I were to channel my aura and swing my sword, I could cut down a tree twenty meters away with a single slash."
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.
"So today," Oreon continued, unsheathing his sword with a flourish, "I'll be teaching you how to manifest Sword Aura."
He held his blade up, the sunlight glinting off its polished surface. "Imagine the flow of mana moving into your sword," he said slowly, his tone almost meditative.
The recruits watched intently, waiting for his next instruction.
"That's all. Good luck."
The students were left dumbfounded.
"Talk about being irresponsible!" everyone thought simultaneously.
Oreon, unbothered by their dismay, sheathed his sword and crossed his arms, observing them with an amused expression. Before anyone could voice their frustration, a series of wooden dummies materialized across the field, their surfaces reinforced with a faint magical glow.
Elijah's eyes narrowed as he examined one of the dummies. He noticed a faint glimmer in the center of its chest. Leaning closer, he realized there was a magic stone embedded inside.
"Curse him," Elijah muttered under his breath, his annoyance growing.
As the recruits began attempting to manifest their Sword Aura, a boy with curly brown hair stood nearby. His confident stance and smug aura drew Elijah's attention. The boy radiated arrogance, the kind that could only come from either extraordinary talent or a sense of entitlement.
While Elijah struggled to focus his mana, an orange-haired boy approached him. His wide grin and cheerful demeanor were at odds with the tension in the air.
"Elijah, have you manifested your aura yet?" the boy asked casually.
"No," Elijah replied, frustration bubbling beneath his calm exterior. He wasn't used to struggling with anything magical, and this failure gnawed at him.
"You're so talented, though, En," the boy continued, addressing the orange-haired youth.
"Talented? Hardly," En said, laughing nervously. "It would be strange if I hadn't manifested my aura after practicing for a year. Honestly, I'm not even sure why I was placed in the swordsman position. Don't you agree, Laurent?"
"No way. I'm sure you're talented-" Elijah said, but Laurent cut hin off.
Laurent, the curly-haired boy, glanced at him with disinterest. "Nope," he said flatly, cutting off whatever response Elijah had been about to make.
"What? Aren't you being too rude?" Elijah said, his irritation showing.
Laurent didn't reply. Instead, he turned his piercing gaze on Elijah, studying him like a puzzle he intended to solve. "That's not how you do it," Laurent said finally, his tone sharp and commanding.
Elijah raised an eyebrow, unsure whether to be offended or intrigued.
"Close your eyes," Laurent demanded.
For a moment, Elijah hesitated but then complied, curiosity outweighing his pride.
"Activate your power," Laurent instructed. "Let your mana scatter through your body. Feel it flow naturally. Then, focus it into your hand—not all at once, but slowly and steadily. Once you've gathered enough mana, guide it into your sword. Be patient. That's why it didn't work for you earlier."
His explanation was clear and precise—far more helpful than Oreon's vague instructions.
Elijah followed them step by step, his frustration gradually giving way to determination. He felt the familiar warmth of mana coursing through his body, gathering in his hand like a steady current.
When he directed the energy into his sword, a faint purple aura began to shimmer around the blade. Elijah opened his eyes, the sight of his glowing weapon filling him with awe.
"Now swing," Laurent said simply.
Taking a deep breath, Elijah raised his sword and swung it at the wooden dummy. The blade met resistance, but with a sharp crack, it cut through the dummy's chest, splintering the wood.
Oreon, who had been watching from a distance, approached with a nod of approval. He inspected the damaged dummy, his expression unreadable. "Not bad for your first time," he said finally.
Elijah's lips twitched in irritation. "Who needs your compliment?" he thought.
"That's what you call talent," Laurent said.
Nearby, En stood with his mouth wide open in shock. He hadn't expected Elijah to succeed so quickly, especially when most of the other recruits were still struggling to form even a faint aura.
"Laurent, I didn't think you'd help him," En said, his voice tinged with surprise.
Laurent shrugged, his expression indifferent. "I just don't like it when talented people are ignorant of their own capabilities."
Elijah froze at Laurent's words. He repeated the name in his mind, his curiosity piqued. Laurent. It wasn't a common surname, and it belonged to one of the great Seventeen Families.
The Seventeen Families were legendary, known for their mastery of magic and martial arts. Among them, the Laurent family was famous for their unparalleled skill with swords. They were often referred to as "The Ones Loved by the Sword." In ancient times, they had been war heroes, their blades carving paths to victory.
The rest of the day passed in a blur as the recruits continued practicing.
As the day went on, Elijah continued practicing, refining his control over his Sword Aura. Each swing of his blade felt more natural, the purple glow growing brighter and steadier.
By the time the lesson ended, he was drenched in sweat but felt a sense of accomplishment he hadn't felt in a long time.
As he sheathed his sword and prepared to leave, he glanced at Laurent, who was practicing on his own. For the first time, Elijah felt a flicker of gratitude toward the arrogant boy.
"Laurent," he muttered to himself, the name lingering in his mind.
The legacy of the Laurent family was heavy, but perhaps that weight was what drove Laurent to push others to greatness.