Ryan practiced with his sword every day tirelessly.
One hundred slashes.
One hundred strikes.
One hundred thrusts
When he felt he could do more, he simply started counting again from one. Often, he finished with over a thousand of each move. But numbers didn't matter for him, focus did.
He could feel the familiar sensation of the sword in his hand, like an extension of himself. This was more than just a weapon; it was a part of him. Each time he gripped the hilt; he could recall the countless hours spent training.
He had honed his skills, learning to manipulate the earth around him. The ability to create sharp rocks with Terra Spikes gave him confidence. It was a skill that could quickly turn the tide in a fight. He felt a rush of power as he envisioned the jagged stones launching toward his enemies.
Then there was Terra Shield. Raising walls of stone provided him with a sense of security. In battle, protection was everything.
Cedric watched closely. He noticed every detail of Ryan's training. The way Ryan held his sword, the position of his feet—Cedric noted it all.
When Ryan's stance faltered, Cedric stepped in to correct Ryan's stance or gave him advice. "Shift your weight," he advised. "Ground yourself."
Ryan listened. He was eager to improve.
Cedric didn't impose strict limits. He didn't dictate how many strikes to throw or how long to practice. Instead, he encouraged Ryan's commitment. He trusted Ryan to understand the value of hard work.
This trust was powerful. It allowed Ryan to take ownership of his training. Each session became a mix of discipline and freedom. Ryan learned to push himself. He discovered his own limits.
And Cedric, with his watchful eye, was there to catch him when he stumbled.
***
"Ryan." Cedric called out to him one day.
"Yes, Master Cedric." Ryan paused, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. He could tell something important was coming.
"Do you have any student friends at Earth Tower?" Cedric asked.
"Ummm… I don't have many friends. My first friends here are Elijah and Lucas." His voice was quiet, he felt unsure about these new friendships either.
Cedric rubbed his beardy chin. "Alright. Let's get them here." He called his assistant to fetch them.
Anxiety rushed through Ryan, "Why? What happened?"
His heart raced. Fear crept in. What if something was wrong? What if his friends were in trouble because of him?
Cedric smiled, easing Ryan's worries. "They will be your sparring partners for today. Maybe for a couple of days."
Relief washed over Ryan. 'Phew… I was overthinking.'
His worry turned to excitement. The prospect of training alongside Elijah and Lucas sparked a flicker of hope in him. It was different when he trained alone. It had its limits. He spent hours honing his skills, each strike, each movement, would be different if he could use those in sparring.
Cedric's assistant returned, leading Elijah and Lucas into the training area. Their faces lit up when they spotted Ryan.
With a formal bow, they greeted Cedric and Ryan in unison.
"Master Cedric, Ryan."
Cedric nodded at their greetings, and Ryan responded with a bow.
Cedric then said, "Elijah and Lucas, I need you to be Ryan's sparring partners."
Elijah and Lucas glanced at each other and replied. "Certainly, Master. It will be our honor."
Lucas grinned to Ryan, "Time to see what you got."
Ryan felt a rush of warmth. "Of course! I could use the company."
As they began, Ryan found himself caught in a whirlwind of movement. Swords clashed, the sound sharp and crisp.
"Ryan, focus on your footwork!" Cedric shouted from the sidelines; his voice cut through the noise.
Ryan exchanged strikes with Lucas. Each hit felt heavy. Yet, he sensed his movements were awkward. He struggled to turn his practice into action.
Meanwhile, Lucas moved with confidence. He dodged effortlessly, almost dancing around Ryan.
Ryan felt a mix of frustration and determination. He knew he had to improve. But how?
Then, something changed. Ryan remembered why he started training. It wasn't just about victory. It was about growth.
He took a deep breath and focused on the rhythm of the spar. He began to relax. His strikes grew sharper. His blocks became more precise.
"Watch my stance," Lucas said, demonstrating a solid defensive position. "Keep your guard up."
Ryan watched Lucas's movements closely. Lucas anticipated his next move.
"Remember, it's all about timing," Lucas said. He showed a smooth parry, followed by a quick counter. Ryan felt warm encouragement wash over him.
As they practiced, he started to mimic the technique. He felt lighter. Losing wasn't the end. It was part of his experience.
While the spar might have ended with him on the ground, Ryan stood up with newfound resolve. This was just the beginning.
***
That night, Ryan settled into his bed, a book titled 'Sword of the Land' resting on his lap. He was supposed to be absorbed in the earth-element sword fighting scenes from the book, but his attention kept drifting to Fen.
Fen was sprawled out lazily on the bed, looking completely relaxed, and that was making Ryan more nervous.
"Ummm… Fen?" Ryan whispered, trying to keep his voice steady.
"Hmmm?" Fen replied, sounding half-asleep.
Ryan took a deep breath. "Can I have my own magical beast?"
He chose his words carefully, as if asking for a puppy instead of a dragon.
"Why not?" Fen said casually, as if it was the most normal request in the world.
Ryan's heart raced. "Do you mean I can really have one?" Hope bubbled inside him.
"Sure."
Excitement surged through him. The idea of summoning a magical beast thrilled him. He imagined the possibilities. What would it be like?
His mind raced. Would it be a dragon? A phoenix? The thoughts whirled around, making him giddy.
Fen chuckled, sensing Ryan's enthusiasm. "Just remember, it's not all fun and games. You'll have to take care of it."
Ryan nodded. "I can handle it!"
Fen smiled, clearly amused. "Alright then. Let's see what you can do."
He couldn't wait to learn. This was amazing.