Kaleb followed Master Kang into a quiet clearing surrounded by dense forest, the ground covered in soft moss and fallen leaves. The old man leaned on his gnarled cane, his steps deliberate, his piercing eyes never straying from Kaleb.
The clearing seemed timeless, as though it had stood untouched for centuries. Kang stopped in the center, tapping the ground with his cane, the sharp sound breaking the silence. "What I'm about to teach you," he began, his voice steady but commanding, "is not a flashy technique or some child's game. It is an ancient art—a sword discipline known as Kendo."
Kaleb furrowed his brow, curiosity sparking in his chest. "Kendo?" he asked. "What's that?"
Kang straightened slightly, his grip firm on the dragon-headed cane. "Kendo is the way of the sword," he explained, his tone reverent. "It is a discipline practiced by warriors of old—true warriors—long before people sullied combat with theatrics and unnecessary movements. Kendo is about precision, discipline, and control."
Kaleb's hand rested on Denkoujin's hilt, his interest growing. "So it's a sword art? Like the techniques I've been using?"
Kang's smirk was dry and unimpressed. "No," he said flatly. "Your so-called techniques are little more than swings with names attached. Kendo is a path. Its goal is to end the fight with a single, decisive strike. Every move you learn, every step you take, will lead to that one perfect blow."
Kaleb tilted his head, skepticism flickering in his eyes. "One strike? What if I miss?"
Kang's gaze sharpened, his voice turning firm. "Then you've already lost. A true swordsman never misses. This is not about trying—it's about conviction. You will learn to strike with purpose, clarity, and absolute certainty."
Kaleb's grip tightened on Denkoujin, his unease mingling with curiosity. "Alright," he said, nodding. "Show me where to start."
Kang chuckled softly, the sound dry but not unkind. "You have spirit, boy. Good. But remember, spirit alone won't carry your blade. Watch carefully," he said, raising his cane.
With a flick of his wrist, Kang demonstrated a simple yet elegant stance, his movements smooth despite his age. "This is the first stance of Kendo. It is where you will begin—and where every strike will draw its strength."
The morning stretched into the afternoon as Kaleb practiced the same stance under Kang's watchful eye. Each adjustment was met with the rhythmic tap of the master's cane, correcting Kaleb's every mistake.
"Your grip is too tight," Kang barked, leaning on his cane. "The sword isn't a club, boy. Relax your hands. Let the blade breathe."
Kaleb exhaled slowly, adjusting his grip and swinging Denkoujin once more. "Like this?" he asked, sweat dripping from his forehead.
"Better," Kang said, nodding. "But your feet are wrong. Bend your knees slightly, and keep your weight balanced. Your stance must be as solid as a mountain."
Kaleb planted his feet, repeating the swing. The motion felt smoother, but his arms burned with fatigue. "What's the point of this?" he asked, his frustration creeping into his tone. "I already know how to fight."
Kang's cane struck the ground with a loud thud, and his gaze hardened. "Do you?" he retorted. "Fighting isn't swinging wildly and hoping for the best. This art is about ending your opponent with one strike. Every move you make, every step, every breath, must lead to that moment."
Kaleb froze, processing the words. "One strike…" he murmured.
Kang stepped closer, his tone softening but losing none of its edge. "The goal of Kendo is not to fight endlessly. It's to finish the fight before it begins. You must learn to see your opponent's end before you even draw your blade."
Kaleb nodded slowly, determination flickering in his eyes. He adjusted his stance and swung again, his movements more deliberate. This time, the blade felt lighter in his hands, the strike more fluid.
"Good," Kang said, his tone approving. "Again. And this time, imagine your target. See the strike before you make it."
For hours, Kaleb practiced, each swing guided by Kang's steady critiques. The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the clearing, but neither man stopped.
The clearing was bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun, the air still and heavy with the scent of moss and sweat. Kaleb collapsed to his knees, his chest heaving as his arms trembled from exertion.
Kang stood nearby, his cane resting against his knee. "You've made progress," he said, his voice tinged with approval. "But I can see it in your eyes—you still don't understand."
Kaleb looked up, his brow furrowed. "I don't," he admitted, frustration lacing his voice. "How does everything lead to one strike?"
The old master sighed, his expression softening. "You're still thinking too much. Watch," he said, reaching for his cane.
With practiced ease, Kang drew the hidden blade from the dragon's head. The polished steel gleamed in the fading light as he stepped into the center of the clearing.
"Pay attention, boy," Kang said, his voice low but commanding. "This is what it means to end a battle with one strike."
Kang began the Kata, his movements deliberate and fluid. His steps flowed like water, each motion imbued with precision and grace. Kaleb watched in silence, mesmerized by the master's control.
As Kang reached the final movement, his stance shifted, his grip tightening on the blade. With a sharp inhale, he swung in a wide arc. Flames erupted from the blade, extending beyond its edge in a blazing crescent of fire.
The arc of flames soared through the clearing, scorching the air before dissipating in a brilliant flash. Kang sheathed his blade, the dragon's head clicking softly into place.
Kaleb stared, his mouth slightly agape. "What… what was that?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
"That," Kang said, leaning on his cane, "is the culmination of discipline, intent, and control. A single strike, imbued with everything you've learned, designed to end the fight."
Kaleb's gaze shifted to Denkoujin, his thoughts racing. "I want to learn that," he said firmly.
Kang chuckled, his eyes glinting with approval. "You will. But when you reach this level, your strike won't be fire—it will be lightning."
Kaleb's eyes widened. "Lightning?"
The old master nodded. "Your internal element is lightning, boy. When the time comes, your blade will sing with the storm, and your final strike will unleash an arc of pure lightning. But you are far from ready."
Kaleb stood slowly, his determination burning brighter. "I'll get there," he said.
Kang smirked, leaning on his cane. "Then keep practicing. You're only at the beginning of the Dragon's Path."
As they left the clearing, the forest seemed quieter, and Kaleb's steps felt steadier. He didn't just want to master the sword—he wanted to wield it with the clarity and power of a true warrior.