One week from the start of his physical training, Aryn felt like an entirely different person. He was no longer a thin, unathletic young man. He now had visible muscle definition and a wider frame.
As he looked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, he couldn't resist flexing his arms a little. Seeing such a miraculous change before his own eyes — to his own body — brought a sense of wonder that he felt difficult to describe.
'And this is just business as usual to the people of this world... Madness.'
His parents had praised his diligence extensively, but not once had they commented that such growth was unusual.
He stopped fooling around and left the bathroom, heading down the stairs. He was still nowhere close to his mother's crazy requirements, but Erica had gone back to the smithy in town to pick up his order.
His original plan was to use the weapons he ordered to take down a Mana Beast or a Monster and use that achievement to convince his parents to let him sign up as an adventurer.
That changed after a few of the lessons he had been receiving from his dad. Not only would his chances against a Monster be almost zero, but Mana Beasts of any notable strength were extremely rare in the area.
It seemed his adventuring dream would have to wait a few more years. But that wouldn't stop him from practicing with his new toys in preparation for that day.
Reaching the first floor, Aryn grabbed the small wooden box with his order and made his way to the yard where he would have some room.
Setting the box in the grass, he popped off the lid and took a first look at its contents. Six sharp objects sat inside. Reaching in, he grabbed one to get a closer look, careful not to cut himself in the process.
'Perfect! They're lighter than I thought they'd be, too.' He tossed the blade into the air above him before catching it with telekinesis.
The blade was rather simple. It had similarities to both a spearhead and an arrowhead. It was similar in shape to an elongated four-bladed arrowhead, but with a slightly different weight distribution.
With a thought, the blade spun around and pointed itself at a nearby tree.
*Whoosh* *thunk*
Aryn watched as the blade whizzed through the air and sunk a good finger-length into the bark.
Raising an eyebrow, Aryn thought, 'That was much more effective than I thought. I didn't even put 50% into that throw... Shot? Whatever it's called when you push something with telekinesis.'
The little weapons — Darts, he decided he would call them — were by no means a new idea. Apprentice Mages had been using similar weapons for thousands of years, but Aryn had requested some tailor-made to his preferences as a reward for passing his dad's tests.
Most would simply use a knife or an arrowhead and save the extra money, but Aryn not only wanted to use these Darts as a weapon, but when his magical ability outgrew them, he could keep them as a memento.
They were his first real weapons in his new life, his first step on the long journey ahead. He hoped that he could look at them fondly when he became powerful.
Wrapping the other five in the box with his mana, they too started floating as the first one was pulled out of the tree. All floating around him, Aryn started moving them all around in the air, trying to get used to the sensation.
Despite them weighing much more than a coin, controlling them was much easier than passing Maros' test had been. Quantity was a much more difficult aspect to control when it came to telekinesis.
After spending a good 30 minutes playing around with his new Darts, he set them back in the box and headed back inside for his lessons with his father. He would find a better place to store them later.
***
For the next three months, Aryn trained like a man possessed. When he wasn't training physically with his mother, he was learning from his father.
He had finally succeeded in saturating his Crystal Heart while being mobile at the start of the second month, maximizing his training efficiency in the process.
Aryn was stood in front of his mother on the grass, asking once more if he had finally met her standards. Seeing a nod, he thanked the heavens that his hard work was finally paying off.
His effort over the last three months had left him with muscles that didn't look natural on a body so young, as well as something that would no doubt come in handy in the future. Discipline.
He hadn't truly known the meaning of the word in his past life as Gavin. He had had no reason to learn what it meant back then, he was always aware of the wall that was the human limit.
Without any possibility of surpassing that obstacle, he didn't even try to reach it. Now, Aryn couldn't even imagine a level that couldn't be reached with the help of mana.
With no more immovable wall before him, he could stretch his legs and run straight ahead toward whatever it was beyond that wall. Beyond the human limit.
'I feel like I'm finally getting somewhere.'
He was well aware that this was only the beginning of his training, but he allowed himself to feel the relief that his mother's nod brought him. Not acknowledging one's own achievements would be counterproductive in the long run.
"Alright, I think you're ready to start for real now... But don't get too excited. Training you in hand to hand combat will involve hitting you. A lot." Aryn cringed a bit, but he was mentally prepared for that the moment he asked her to train him in the first place.
So he nodded with a resolute look on his face, "I know, Mom. I'm prepared."
"Good. We'll start with a spar right away. I'm not going to show you any fancy footwork or anything; that would only help if you exclusively fight fairly against other humans. That would defeat the point of this.
Instead, I'm going to hit you however I see fit until you can react appropriately to an attack from any direction. That should build somewhat of a foundation to work with. Then we can worry about the fancy stuff."
Aryn opened his mouth to reply when a fist entered his vision, landing right on his nose.
*Wack*
"Ahh... Ouch. *sniff*" Aryn quickly got the picture as he felt a kick hit his shin while he was holding his nose.
The only way he would get any reprieve was if he earned it for himself. Lowering his stance, he tried to make some distance between him and his mother.
*thump*
Another hit — to his chest this time — brought him out of the illusion that that would be enough. He raised his arms in front of his chest, successfully blocking the next jab.
Only to be rewarded with a hit to the stomach. He had raised his arms too high, leaving himself open.
Hunching forward a bit, he quickly sidestepped a kick that would've hit his side before launching a sloppy punch of his own in an attempt to break his mother's rhythm.
She easily grabbed his wrist and threw him up over her shoulder and onto the grass below before taking a step back, letting him collect himself and stand back up.
She looked a little guilty, "Was that too much?" She didn't want to cause her son pain, but she knew all too well the potential consequences that not teaching him properly could result in.
Shaking his head back into place and looking at his mother's guilty expression, Aryn slowly stood back up and said, "No. I just need a second..." The hit to his chest and stomach had knocked the wind out of him.
It only took a few moments for him to get himself together again. He had worked hard to get to this point, it would be a waste to give up because it hurt a little.
"Alright. I'm ready." He lifted his arms in front of himself preemptively. He didn't want to let himself be caught off guard twice in a row.
Unfortunately, his opponent knew what she was doing. She went for a sweeping kick at his legs, hitting his right ankle and throwing off his balance. He shifted his weight to his other leg and pushed himself backwards to ground himself again before her next attack came.
It was a left jab at his face. He ducked under it successfully-
*thud*
Too focused on her left hand closing in on his face, he overlooked her right coming from below and dodged right into it, earning himself a punch in the cheek.
Managing to keep himself on his feet, he retaliated with a right hook. She leaned back slightly, dodging the punch by a hair before returning a jab with her right hand.
Leaning to his right, Aryn barely managed to dodge the jab. Before he could press his perceived advantage however, his mother brought the hand she had just jabbed with around his neck, catching him in a grapple.
He struggled for a few moments, trying to slip free, but it was to no avail. He tapped his mother's arm, admitting his defeat.
Releasing him, they again took a position opposite each other.
"You actually aren't doing too bad. Most untrained people freeze up or panic after they take a hit. It's good that you are trying to recover immediately and retaliate.
But you are still undeniably an amateur. You need to start moving your feet. And stop throwing such obvious punches. Throw in a feint or something, be unpredictable. Maybe even throw in a kick or two."
Aryn nodded and took the advice to heart. If it could help him get hit less, that would be fantastic.
***
Tearing into his dinner before him with numerous bruises all over his face and body, Aryn felt surprisingly good. At first, he was just trying to survive a little longer under his demon of a mother's onslaught.
That didn't change much in the end, truth be told. But the way it felt did. Aryn had become absorbed in the spar, finding a rhythm between the flurry of punches and kicks.
He had thought that training in hand to hand combat with his mom would be an experience he would have to convince himself was a necessary step in becoming powerful. But he found himself enjoying it despite the soreness now coursing through his body.
'It felt like a dance.' He thought back on the experience. The synchronicity of their movements, whether it be attacking or dodging, was an exciting thing to be a part of.
He wanted to do it again.
"Can we go again after I take a nap, Mom?" He looked across the table as he shoved a piece of chicken in his mouth.
She grinned. He could feel the pride practically radiating off of her. Along with... Too much joy.
'Is she a sadist?...' Aryn shot a weird look to his right, at his dad sitting at the head of the table.
"What? What's with that look? Is there something caught in my beard?" He shook the thoughts from his head and kept eating as his dad combed his fingers through his beard, looking for whatever could possibly cause his son's strange expression.