Chapter 9 — The First Lesson

The next morning, Kaelen led the boy—Prince Aric—into a quiet courtyard outside the city walls. Sunlight fell through the open sky, casting long shadows over the stone training ground.

Kaelen stopped and placed a hand on the Morphblade’s hilt. “Lesson one: observation. Watch everything—the stance of an opponent, their breathing, the rhythm of their strikes. A sword is not just steel; it is motion, intent, and thought.”

Aric crouched into a stance, attempting to mirror Kaelen, but his swings faltered. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and frustration flickered in his eyes.

“Focus,” Kaelen said, his voice calm but sharp. “Do not move without seeing, do not strike without understanding. Strength without precision is wasted energy. You must become like water—adaptable, flowing, inevitable.”

Aric’s first attempts were clumsy, but Kaelen patiently corrected his footwork, posture, and grip. Each adjustment sharpened the boy’s senses. Kaelen demonstrated techniques in slow motion, allowing Aric to follow, then gradually increased the speed until Aric could keep pace.

“You have spirit,” Kaelen observed. “But potential alone is not enough. Discipline, patience, and observation will shape you into a true swordsman.”

Aric nodded, wiping sweat from his brow. “I understand. I’ll train harder. I’ll become strong enough to fight anyone, even you one day.”

Kaelen’s lips curved into a faint, rare smile beneath his hood. “Then let us begin.”

The morning faded into afternoon, the sun rising and falling over the courtyard as steel rang against steel, a rhythm of learning, growth, and determination. In that quiet place, a bond formed—not just of teacher and student, but of destiny, preparing both for the challenges yet to come.