Chapter 5: Small Step
Lumien once again plunged into the world of dreams, where everything seemed both real and distant. He found himself in the same place, watching the family that intrigued him so much. The father and son were in the field, and something immediately caught his attention: the boy seemed older now; perhaps a few years had passed in that dream world. Lumien tilted his head, confused. 'Why... is he... taller?' he thought. It was as if he was watching a story that continued even when he wasn't present.
The robust man with a serious look held the sword firmly, while the boy, now in his teens, tried to imitate him with determination. "Remember, son, the foundation of a good fight is in the feet! Without balance, you fall before you even strike." The father's voice was grave, but there was a tone of patience. The boy nodded, adjusting his posture while sweating from practice. Lumien observed every detail, every movement. His silver and gold eyes captured everything precisely, almost as if he were recording the scene in his mind.
For a moment, he looked away, noticing something new in the distance: a colorful point of light in the sky of that universe. It was small but bright, pulsating attractively to the eyes. He felt an urge to get closer, but something made him return his attention to the family. 'What... is that?' he thought. However, he decided to ignore the point for now and focus on what truly intrigued him — the bonds between these people.
As the father corrected the son's movements, Lumien noticed something different on the man's face: pride. He did not yet fully understand what it was, but something inside him warmed slightly, like a spark about to become a flame. 'Why... does he do this? What motivates him?' The smiles exchanged between father and son, the occasional laughter when something went wrong... all of this fascinated him, although he did not know exactly why. He continued to observe in silence, trying to understand that world so different from his own.
When he woke up, the soft light of the sun was streaming through the window, illuminating the small wooden room. He blinked a few times, trying to organize his thoughts. The memory of the dream was still vivid, especially the precise sword movements. Something inside him urged him to try to reproduce them. Without thinking much, he got up and went outside, grabbing a piece of wood he found near the house.
Holding the piece of wood as if it were a sword, he began to replicate the movements he had seen in the dream, each swing and cut made with almost absurd precision. His feet moved fluidly, and his posture was impeccable. He did not just imitate what he had seen but, unconsciously, improved the movements, making them even more efficient. The piece of wood cut through the air with a soft sound, while he concentrated completely on what he was doing.
Tomas, who was passing by carrying a sack of grains, stopped when he saw him. The retired mercenary frowned, intrigued. 'What the hell...?' he thought, dropping the sack to the ground to get a better look. Lumien was so focused that he did not notice the man's presence until he heard his grave voice:
"Where did you learn to do that?" Tomas asked, crossing his arms as he looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and incredulity. "You said you don't remember anything, so how do you know how to fight like that?"
Lumien stopped, looking at Tomas. His expression was serious, but there was a slight confusion in his heterochromatic eyes. He tried to organize the words in his mind, something that was still difficult for him. Finally, with a slow and broken voice, he replied:
"Dream." The word came out simply but loaded with meaning. For Lumien, it was the truth. He had really learned that in his dream, but for Tomas, it was an explanation that only raised more questions.
"Dream? You dreamed of this?" Tomas scratched his beard, trying to understand. "This doesn't make sense... nobody learns perfect movements just by dreaming. Do you have any idea how strange that is?"
Lumien just tilted his head, not knowing how to respond. To him, it seemed natural, but Tomas' look said otherwise. The mercenary sighed, shaking his head. "Alright, boy. If you say it was a dream, who am I to argue? But show me that again. I want to see it one more time."
He nodded and began repeating the movements. Tomas watched attentively, noting every detail. "The steps... the posture... even the way he moves his shoulders... It's like he's been training his whole life." The thought left Tomas intrigued and, at the same time, impressed. He himself had been a skilled swordsman in his youth but had never seen anyone with such precision, especially someone who claimed to have no memory at all.
"You have talent, boy. No, not talent... this is something beyond that," said Tomas, scratching his neck. "If this came from a dream or whatever, I think it's best I teach you a few things. You can't ignore someone like you."
Lumien looked at him, not fully understanding what he meant but feeling that it was something important. Tomas picked up a wooden stick and began showing some basic strikes. "Pay attention, you hear? This is how you do it..." But before he could finish the demonstration, Lumien had already understood. He repeated the movement perfectly, executing it so fluidly that it left Tomas speechless.
"I only showed it once! How are you already doing that?" Tomas took a step back, looking at Lumien as if he were some kind of inexplicable phenomenon. "Are you kidding me?"
Lumien just looked at him, not understanding what he meant. To him, it was natural. He learned by observing, as he had done in the dream. But to Tomas, it was almost supernatural. "Boy, you really are a mystery... but an interesting mystery," he said with a half-smile. "Let's keep going. I want to see how far you can go."
And so, the two spent the morning training. Tomas showed the movements, and Lumien absorbed them like a sponge, improving them without even realizing it. Every strike, every step, seemed as natural as breathing. Tomas, though experienced, felt he was facing something unique, something that defied everything he knew about learning and skill.
At the end of the training, Tomas was exhausted, but Lumien seemed as calm as at the beginning. "You really are strange, boy," said Tomas, laughing as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. "But I think that's why I like you."
Lumien did not respond, but something shone in his eyes. He still did not know what it meant, but he felt that, somehow, he was beginning to understand more about the world around him. Another flame ignited within him: the desire to learn more.