The morning air at their campsite was cold, biting against the skin, and carried the fresh scent of dew. The sun had barely risen over the mountains, but Rai was already awake. He stood in a small clearing surrounded by trees, his new sword strapped to his back. The faint silver-blue glow of its blade pulsed gently, like a living breath.
Rai reached for the hilt of the nameless sword and unsheathed it. The blade's light seemed to greet him, like an old friend welcoming him back.
"This sword... feels strange," Rai muttered to himself.
He started with simple movements, swinging the sword in the air to feel its balance. It was light—almost too light—but every swing felt precise. When he tried to spin the blade, the motion became smoother, as if the sword could read his thoughts and adjust itself.
But something was still missing. Rai paused, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. He studied the blade's glowing surface, and suddenly, a memory from long ago struck him.
---
A Childhood Memory
A young Rai, about eight years old, stood in the middle of a wide field near the small village where he was raised. His small hands trembled as he held a wooden sword, far too big for his size. In front of him stood a tall man with messy black hair and a warm smile—his father.
"You want to learn how to use a sword, Rai?" his father asked gently.
Rai nodded firmly, though his eyes were filled with uncertainty. "I want to be like you, Father. A protector."
His father chuckled softly and knelt to meet Rai's eyes. "A protector, huh? That's not an easy job, Rai. You have to be strong, fast, and most importantly, have a steadfast heart."
"How do I do that, Father?" Rai asked, his eyes brimming with eagerness.
His father took the wooden sword from Rai's hands and adjusted his grip. "First, you need to know that a sword is not just a tool. It's a part of you. If you treat it as just a weapon, it will become dull. But if you respect it, it will become an extension of your will."
Rai tried to mimic his father's movements, but the sword was far too heavy for him. Every time he swung it, it fell to the ground. Yet, his father never laughed or scolded him. He simply picked up Rai's sword and told him to try again.
That day marked the first time Rai ever held a sword. Though his body was small and weak, his heart began to fill with determination to grow stronger.
---
Back to the Present
Rai exhaled deeply as the memory faded. He lifted his sword again, but this time, something felt different. He wasn't just swinging it—he felt it as though it were an extension of himself, just as his father had taught him long ago.
Rai closed his eyes, letting his body move naturally. He stepped forward, swinging the blade in a rhythm that was almost like a dance. Every movement felt more deliberate, more powerful. The silver-blue light from the sword grew brighter, tracing glowing arcs in the air.
As he trained, he heard footsteps approaching. Opening his eyes, he saw Kaida standing at the edge of the clearing, watching him with awe.
"That sword suits you perfectly," Kaida said, folding her arms.
Rai sheathed the blade, trying to steady his breathing. "I still need time to fully understand it. But yes, this sword… it's different."
Kaida stepped closer, her gaze fixed on the glowing blade. "The sword reacts to your resolve. The stronger your determination, the greater its power. I saw it just now. But that also means… if you hesitate, the sword might not aid you."
Rai nodded, understanding what Kaida meant. Memories of his father surfaced again, bringing a warmth that bolstered his resolve even more.
"But I won't hesitate," Rai said, meeting Kaida's gaze with firm conviction. "I promised myself I'd protect what matters. Just like my father taught me."
Kaida smiled faintly. "Then we have a chance to win. But don't forget, the sword is just a tool. Its true strength lies within you."
Rai looked at the sword one last time that morning, then carefully sheathed it. A sense of calm and focus filled him.
That day, Rai didn't just train with his new sword. He rediscovered the burning resolve within his heart—the same resolve he had when he first held a wooden sword in a small field in his village. The resolve to become a protector, no matter the cost.