Twelve Years Later.
CLANG!!!
The sound of swords clashing echoed through the atmosphere.
It came from a sparring match taking place between two swordsmen.
A closer look and one could see who the sparring partners were, a young boy who looked to be another twelve years old in age, and an older man, probably in his late thirties.
They both wore formal attire, a clear reflection of their status. The older of the two, with a dignified uniform adorned with subtle insignias, carried the air of an instructor.
In contrast, the younger one, dressed in simpler yet refined clothing, was unmistakably a student.
The older man suddenly raised his sword and began charging toward the much younger boy.
In response, the boy remained calm, adjusting his stance with practiced ease. He spread his legs apart for balance, firmly gripped the hilt of his sword, and raised it to a defensive position—a textbook posture for any skilled swordsman.
But the instructor anticipated this and stopped just one step short of the boy.
Despite being clearly shocked by the sudden change in momentum, the boy still had enough time to react. The instructor shifted seamlessly from a downward slash to a swift side slash, aiming to catch the boy off guard. However, the boy sidestepped in the opposite direction, narrowly avoiding the attack.
Not missing a beat, the instructor followed up with another slash, but the boy ducked under it. In a single fluid motion, he swung his blade upward, stopping just short of the instructor's belly. The sharp halt of his blade marked the end of the match, the outcome now evident.
"It's my loss," the instructor said, tossing his blade to the side and raising his hands up, acknowledging his defeat.
The student then sheathed his sword and bowed in front of the instructor, as a sign of respect.
"Well done, Lord Lucius," he continued. "You've truly improved in your use of the sword. Dare I say, you might have surpassed me."
Lucius sighed before responding, "it is only because you went easy on me instructor, I am unworthy of your praise."
The instructor's smile didn't falter, though inwardly, his thoughts said otherwise.
'Easy on him?' he thought. 'If anything, I was pushing myself to keep up. His technique, his timing… they're far beyond what I expected. This boy truly has talent.'
He hid his surprise well, keeping his composure as befitting an instructor. Instead, he offered Lucius a warm smile, masking the faint embarrassment creeping up his face.
His smile lingered, but his thoughts remained deep as he studied Lucius.
'Two hours a day,' he marveled. 'That's all he trains with the sword. And yet, he's surpassed every peer his age—and even many seasoned experts twice his years. How can someone so young display such mastery?'
He adjusted his grip on his sword hilt, recalling the match that had just ended. 'The boy's movements weren't just precise—they were intuitive, fluid, and devastatingly effective.
Even I, one of the Twelve Cardinal Swordsmen of the Empire, struggle to match him. How absurd is that?'
A small sense of pride mixed with his amazement. 'If he's this formidable now, I can only imagine the power he'll wield when he grows older. His talent… it's astronomical.'
The instructor's gaze softened as he exhaled quietly. I suppose it's no mystery. 'He truly is the son of Lord Matthias.'
He shook his head ever so slightly, a mix of amazement and anticipation settling in his chest. 'This boy is destined for greatness.'
Lucius approached his instructor, stopping at a respectful distance away. He bowed deeply, his movements precise and deliberate. "Thank you for today's lesson," he said, his tone formal.
The instructor gave a slight nod. "You did well. Reflect on the match and what you've learned."
"I will instructor, till our next lesson," he said and turned to leave.
The instructor's gaze followed him as he turned and departed, with a thoughtful expression on his face.
****
Lucius leaned back in his chair, staring at the intricate patterns of the wooden ceiling above. His hair, still damp from the bath, clung to his forehead, and the faint scent of herbal oils lingered around him. The sparring match earlier had left him sore, but a warm bath and a hearty meal had eased most of the tension. Now, with nothing to distract him, his thoughts began to wander.
'Twelve years,' he began. 'It feels like a lifetime already. At first, my life was a mix of training and discipline—endless sword drills, magic practice, and lessons about the Empire's history and politics. It was tough, and I struggled to keep up with everything. But over time, it got easier. I started to understand things quicker than others, and soon I was ahead. Now, it feels natural, like everything just clicks into place.'
He glanced at the sword resting by his chair, its polished blade catching the soft light filtering through the window.
'Swordsmanship comes naturally to me. The precision, the discipline—it's all second nature now. But it's so straightforward. Strike, parry, thrust. Reliable, yes, but predictable. Boring, even.'
Lucius's gaze shifted to the desk where an open grimoire sat, its pages filled with arcane symbols.
'Magic, though… magic is something else entirely. It's like unlocking the secrets of the world. Every spell feels like stepping into the unknown. Fire, light, barriers—there's no end to what magic can do. Sure, it has its flaws, but its potential is limitless. Compared to swordsmanship, it feels alive.'
He sighed softly and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
'I've grown a lot in both arts, but magic is what fascinates me. My last instructor said there's nothing more they can teach me. Nothing more? That can't be true. There's always more to learn. Still, a new instructor should take over soon, and maybe they'll help me go further. Until then, it's back to swords and academics.'
Lucius straightened up and glanced out the window, where the sun began to set in the sky.
'Three more years. That's how long I have before I'm sent to the Academy. That's where it all changes. They'll teach me how to fight the demons plaguing the Empire. That's when my real battles begin. Am I ready for that?'
A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
'No, three years is a lot of time. I'll train harder, grow stronger, and prepare myself. But I'll also enjoy the peace while it lasts. When the time comes, I'll make sure I'm ready—not just to survive, but to thrive.'
Lucius leaned back again, letting the silence of the room settle around him. He decides to not think too much about the future, instead, he allowed himself this brief moment of introspection.