40. Half A Year
Half a year had passed since his time in the cottage, Eryndor had grown very complacent with his condition that he had pushed himself day and night. He spent a majority of that time training with his uncle, other times he would be out hunting for their next meal, he would kill any beast he found and keep the beast core for himself. It was his system.
Not all of his attempts at hunting went well, he had come to realise he was a terrible hunter and tracker. With time he grew more efficient. In all this time the total number of magic points he had accumulated had increased to 880 bringing him closer to the peak of a beginner mage.
When he was not training Eryndor would go throught the forms of the moon style sword technique, he had come to learn of it's origins. Apparently it was a sword style only exclusive to the royal elf family or in clearer terms holy elves. It incorporated the changes of the moon into a beautiful yet complex attack structure.
Eryndor had come to learn a little of the outside world. Apparently not many people chose to be mages, a considerable majority chose to live as civilians and use their little mana for daily tasks not caring to advance their knowledge. Another part of the majority chose to be swordsmen learning the art of battle and becoming indomitable on the battlefield. With the advancement of sword arts and the ease to acquire most of them the use of mages had greatly depleted.
Of course being a mage was still praised by others but they were not the main part of the picture. What started as a world totally dependent on magic had changed to model where even those with low affinity for magic could stand out. For Eryndor he chose to master both paths as well as he could, having a mastery of magic and proficiency in sword arts would greatly increase his chances of reaching the top.
There were five known battle arts: The moon style battle art was practiced by holy elves, the beast style battle art was practiced by the beast people, the earth style was generally known, the battle style was practiced by the human nations and the blood style battle art was practiced by the demon tribes.
Eryndor had come to learn just how vast the world he inhabited truly was, the scope of it was beyond his comprehension. Eryndor had not known but he had a flair for adventure and exploration, he wanted to know more beyond his continent. The demons and humans lived on their own continents and he so desperately wanted to see them both. The elf continent was inhabited by two species, the elf empire and the feral beast people who did not obey the rule of anyone.
With all this in mind he hardened his training so he could see these beautiful and exotic places with his own eyes one day.
Moon style battle art was fluid and versatile, even after mastering a quarter of it Eryndor could feel his power soar. The difference between magic and swordsmanship was simple, magic required mana and sowrdmanship required muscle, skill and cunning. Eryndor could see why a lot of people would opt for the blade, in that world there was no limit to how strong one could get physically as long as you set your mind to it. Magic on the other hand had to do with preference and compatibility. There was also the problem of having the right level of innate aptitude to be a mage, even if one could learn magic most people never advanced past the intermediate level. In a way it was like theie potential was sealed from birth.
Eryndor did not know where his aptitude would lead him to but he still persisted in his training. As he gotten more used to the first form of the moon style sword art without going into spasms Thalvarin passed on a strange advice never to use it recklessly unless as a last resort. In a way it was like having an ace under his sleeve. He would use a basic sword style as his base and the moon style sword art as his secret move.
Eryndor's magic training progressed much slower than his swordsmanship, his body still too time to attune to mana leading him to make mistakes during training. Eventually he overcame his defects by dedicating himself totally to his mantra, this attitude had become so toxic that Eryndor would fall into a trance and wake up shortly after in different positions. Holding his magic was still hard but he managed to maintain a balance in time.
His study of flame magic was something he never slacked off in despite his uncles buzzard way of teaching. He would usually be given half the teaching leaving him to piece things together, this made his growth much slower but in the end he had much fun deciphering what worked and what didn't. The more beast cores he got the more mana veins he developed, the more he trained he stronger he got. He was not sure if he had made an considerable growth during this time but he knew he was on the right path.
The left eye would occasionally give him tips from time to time but never actively intervene in his training. This relationship between students and master was very complicated, aside from their very limited time together they never truly filled out the content of their contract. It was like the eye was waiting for something but Eryndor was too busy to figure out what, he had real matters to deal with.
Eryndor did not neglect his wind magic training, without a teacher he taught himself and managed to make some progress. Unlike fire that resonated a particular heat he could connect with wind was different, it was not flexible but free, it was like catching something that was there but not there at the same time. If anything wind magic was the one thing that seemed to work with him easily, it was like he shared a natural affinity with wind. Still Eryndor had not relieved the past when he had supposedly flown for a few seconds.
His days went by slowly for him, he soon forgot all about his family and at the age of eight he was being moulded into a true mage.