"I'm not the man you used to know. I've found strength within myself that I didn't realize existed. You must see me as I am now, not as I was."
Lowell raised his gaze, meeting Gabriel's eyes. They were different now, filled with a hidden resilience and a fierce determination.
It was as if a spark had ignited within his master, one that refused to be extinguished.
"Okay, master," Lowell said, his voice steadier now. "I'll attack first."
Gabriel nodded, his expression unchanging." Good show me your strength."
Lowell took a deep breath, grounding himself. He stepped forward, his movements hesitant at first, but growing more confident with each step.
He raised his practice sword, his eyes locked on Gabriel's.
With a swift motion, Lowell launched his attack. Gabriel met him with equal speed and precision, their wooden blades clashing with a resounding echo.
Lowell's strikes were powerful, fueled by a mix of fear and determination. Gabriel parried each one effortlessly, his movements a testament to his newfound strength.
Suddenly Gabriel's offensive motions started to become more ruthless, though his attacks lacked strength they had a mastered precision.
Then Lowell saw it, the once fierce eyes of his master became devoid of any emotion, as he were a practice doll.
"Form," Gabriel said, his voice as cold and unyielding as ice. He spoke the word with no trace of encouragement or warmth, merely an observation.
Gabriel lowered his sword, his expression remaining neutral, almost indifferent. "Incomplete," he said, barely more than a whisper, but the disappointment in his tone was palpable.
Lowell, determined to prove himself, attacked again with renewed vigor. He aimed a swift strike at Gabriel's side, but Gabriel effortlessly deflected the blow and countered with a quick, precise movement that sent Lowell sprawling to the ground.
Lowell gritted his teeth, pushing himself harder. He aimed a series of rapid strikes at Gabriel, each one more forceful than the last.
Gabriel deflected them with ease, his movements almost serene in their fluidity. The forest around them seemed to hold its breath, the sounds of their clash melding with the rustling leaves and distant calls of birds.
"Too predictable," Gabriel said, his tone cold. He stepped forward, catching Lowell off guard and delivering a swift strike that knocked the practice sword from his hand. Lowell stumbled back, his heart pounding in his chest.
"You rely too much on brute force," Gabriel continued, his voice unwavering. "You must think, anticipate. Your mind must be as sharp as your blade."
The exertion began to take its toll on Lowell, but he refused to relent. He pushed himself, drawing on every ounce of strength he possessed.
Lowell scrambled to his feet, his pride stinging more than his body. "I will do better, Master. I won't give up."
Gabriel's eyes remained cold and impassive. "Go on."
Lowell launched another series of attacks, his movements more desperate, more erratic. Each strike was met with unyielding precision from Gabriel, who seemed to anticipate Lowell's every move.
It was as if Gabriel was dancing on the edge of Lowell's frustration, effortlessly deflecting each attempt.
In a swift motion, Gabriel disarmed Lowell, sending his wooden sword flying across the forest floor. Lowell fell to his knees, breathing heavily, his defeat palpable.
"Skill alone is not enough," Gabriel said, his voice as cold as ever. "You must understand the spirit, the purpose behind each strike."
Gabriel brought put his hand behind his back, his back as straight as a rod.
Lowell bowed his head, absorbing the weight of his master's words. "I... I will try to understand, Master."
Gabriel placed a hand on Ryu's shoulder, his touch light but unyielding. He said nothing more, turning away as if the conversation had ended before it began.
As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows through the forest, master and pupil stood together, the silence between them heavy with unspoken expectations and the cold promise of growth.
...
Night had arrived and Lowell had offered to cook something. Gabriel accepted, using the excuse that he needed to wash himself.
As Lowell tended to the fire, Gabriel walked beside the cave where a small, tranquil pond resided. He removed his clothes and undergarments, revealing milky white skin that covered his frail and slender body.
The moonlight reflected off his silky white hair and delicate figure in the water. It was as if he was an entity too pure for this world.
Ever since he awoke in this body, he had been circulating the little mana he could nonstop. This once pale and bony form had a much better complexion now.
But one thing hadn't changed much—this body's strength was recovering at a painfully slow pace.
Gabriel had finished the battle with Lowell quickly, hoping his disciple had not noticed his trembling hand.
He looked at that hand now, still shaking. It disgusted him; bony and pale, it seemed as though it could snap at any moment.
"Weak, weak," were the only words Gabriel could mutter through gritted teeth. The disgust and frustration welled up inside him, but it was directed solely at himself. How could he guide Lowell, when he couldn't even fully control this body?
He plunged his trembling hand into the cold water, hoping to numb the shaking, to numb the pain of his own inadequacy.
His reflection stared back at him, hollow and accusatory. It was not just the physical weakness that tormented him, but the lingering fear that he would never be strong enough.
"You are weak" suddenly a voice growled from the darkness.