One Afternoon...
"WHAT?!"
Lyra's shout rang across the training yard as she spun toward Saul, fury written all over her face.
"Kyro is allowed to use magic against me?!" she yelled. "THAT'S NOT FAIR!"
Honestly, I did not see that coming.
After the party, Lyra had been beating me black and blue for days straight. No mercy and no hesitations at all! Even I could tell her swordsmanship had improved a lot compared to last month. Faster footwork, cleaner swings-- Oh boy, those cleaner swings.. Less wasted movement too. It was honestly kind of terrifying.
So when Saul said that, I felt something I had not felt in a while.
It was relief. A LOT of relief.
"Really?!" I shouted, suddenly bursting with fake excitement, throwing my hands up just to mess with her already boiling temper. "Finally! I can beat Lyra now!"
Lyra snapped her head toward me so fast I thought she might pull something. Her teeth clenched, eyes blazing.
"Shut up, nitwit!" she barked. "You will never beat me! Remember the last time?"
Saul pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long sigh. "I am allowing him to use magic so you can improve, Lyra," he said calmly. "And so Kyro can learn to blend magic with movement and sword work. Besides, you've been beating him so badly, you almost killed him once. Remember, he still haven't unlocked his aura yet."
Lyra groaned at that remark. Saul looked between the two of us.
"In the end, both of you will get stronger."
Lyra crossed her arms, clearly unconvinced. "Tch. He's still going to lose."
I grinned. "Keep telling yourself that."
Her eye twitched.
"Enough of that." Saul straightened, his one arm pierced the ground with his wooden sword, holding it in place while his hand stayed on it's hilt. "Get ready, because training starts now."
And just like that, I had officially been granted permission to fight back with my all.
Lyra cracked her knuckles as she prepared her stance.
I tightened my grip on my wooden sword from my left hand. This was going to hurt.
"BEGIN!"
Lyra dashed first in a zigzagged pattern. My muscles tensed as I braced for her charge. I rose my right hand as I made a Geo Push.
At the last second before she stepped closer, the ground in front of her shifted. A long slab of rock burst upward, blunt and forceful. It did not have a sharp edge, but getting hit by that would definitely hurt.
But Lyra did not slow down, instead, she jumped onto it. Using the rising stone as a foothold, she kicked off and gained even more speed as she launched herself forward.
Um.. Crap.
I raised my right hand again, panic creeping up my spine as my mana surged.
Fireballs!
Heat gathered behind me, prickling against my back, as several fireballs formed in the air one after another. I pointed forward and sent them flying, but Lyra moved with terrifying efficiency. Her wooden sword flashed again and again as she deflected each fireball mid air, sparks scattering wildly as her faint aura glowed with every swing.
This is bad. She's getting closer!
My legs trembled for a moment as I could see her eyes now, they were fierce, and they were focused. Locked onto me.. ONTO ME..!
I swallowed.
It's fine. I've got this. Just combine your sword and your magic.
My grip tightened around my wooden sword. Instead of retreating, I burst forward, sprinting across the grass to intercept her head on.
That's it. I just need to dodge her swing. One clean miss, then I'll have my opening. Apply Saul's lessons!
Each step closer made my heartbeat thunder louder in my ears. Time seemed to slow as the distance between us vanished. I watched her arm move, saw the muscles in her shoulder tense as her wooden sword came forward in a horizontal swing. I feinted with a swing of my own, baiting her reaction.
That moment I saw her wooden sword growing closer... I ducked
Swoongg!
The air above my head split as her sword passed just over me. I dropped low, brushing my fingers against the ground as mana flowed from my hand. The earth beneath Lyra bubbled unnaturally, softening and shifting, turning into thick, sticky mud that swallowed her boots halfway.
I dashed forward past her immediately, already twisting my body as I prepared to swing from behind.
Lyra tried to turn and jump away, but her legs were stuck. Unable to fully escape, she reacted instantly and swung her wooden sword against mine.
Clack
The impact rang through my arms, sending a sharp jolt up to my shoulders. I was forced back a few feet, my heels digging into the grass. That strength… it was all her. Even stuck, even unbalanced. It was scary to imagine what her power would be like if she were an adult.
Still, I focused my mana again and conjured Geo Push near her side.
She noticed immediately. Her teeth gritted as she pulled her left leg free with sheer force, mud tearing apart around her shin. The moment it came loose, she kicked the rising rock slab with a single, brutal strike. It was unbelievable, my eyes almost bulged from shock.
"Damn!" I said out loud without thinking.
Lyra yanked her right leg free next, twisting her body as she turned toward me and dashed forward again without hesitation.
"AH!" I backed off instinctively. A second later, she was on me, swinging with all her might. I dodged and backed away again and again, my mind racing even as my body moved. Each dodge forced a grunt from my throat, each step making me exhale sharply. Adrenaline coursed through me as my brain worked like clockwork.
Okay, think.. I observed her, each of her movement. Then, my eyes landed on her sword. Of course, it's wood!I could use my Wither on it, the only problem is how I would catch her wooden sword without breaking my hand..?
I ducked on one of her swings. Oh, I know.. I could use gale!
"Won't you stay still?!" She groaned as she swung her sword again.
"Fine!" I yelled back.
Her sword came in fast, another horizontal swing aimed straight at me. I raised my left hand as I prepared the spell, mana spiraling tightly in my palm.
Gale! I thought.
VWOOOM!
A massive burst of wind erupted from my palm. The force slammed into her sword, slowing its momentum just enough as it pressed against my hand, the wind screaming between us.
Wither!
Moments later, her wooden sword darkened to a dull gray, cracks spreading across it before it crumbled completely into dust, the remains blown away by the wind.
Lyra's eyes widened in disbelief, and I didn't waste my opening. Before she could react, I swung my sword, striking her jaw, then followed with another swing that slammed into her abdomen. She gritted her teeth and tried to retaliate, reaching out as if to catch my own sword. But I feinted low, I ducked pretending to swing from below.
Her focus was entirely to my sword, and I took advantage of that.
Geo Push!
A rock slab formed just behind me, moving past above my head as it headed straight toward Lyra's face. Time seemed to slow as I saw her focus shift from my sword to the rock that was about to collide with her.
BAM!
The rock struck her forehead and sent her flying backward. Her body hit the grassy ground hard.
Thud.
For a brief moment after the impact, there was only silence. At the background, faint rustle of grass could be heard as the dust settled. I stood there, frozen, my sword still half raised, chest heaving as my mana slowly calmed. My eyes were locked onto Lyra's unmoving form on the ground, my mind struggling to catch up with what had just happened.
Did that… really work?
"I… did it?" I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper.
A second passed, it hit me.
"I did it!" I yelled, disbelief turning into excitement as my body finally moved. I jumped once, then again, laughter spilling out of me before I could stop it. "I actually did it! I won! I won against her!"
My arms shot into the air as I spun around, practically bouncing on my feet, the tension that had been crushing my chest moments ago finally breaking apart. My heart pounded, but this time it wasn't fear. It was joy, genuine and uncontrollable.
Just ahead, Lyra groaned.
Her eyes snapped open, sharp and furious, as her orange aura flared the moment she woke. She pushed herself up with one hand, dirt clinging to her clothes and hair, her jaw tightening as she sat upright.
The first thing she saw was me jumping, smiling, and celebrating like an idiot.
I turned to her, "HAH! HOW ABOUT THAT!? I won against you!"
The moment I saw Lyra move after I said that, I flinched. PTSD really hit me hard.
"Tch…" she grunted, annoyance dripping from the sound as she got to her feet. She brushed the dirt off her legs and waist with rough swipes, her movements stiff and irritated. The moment her eyes looked back at me, I could feel my anxiety rising.
Saul was watching us, he took a step forward, ready to intervene if this leads to yet another beat down.
Lyra took slow steps towards me, her face looked irritated. I took a step backward, more like it was instinct that took over and I couldn't stop myself from shaking a bit.
"H-hey.. Uh.. I d-didn't really mean any of that! Y-ya know, that was a joke!" I nervously laughed as the shadow of Lyra covered my body as she stood just in front of me
She raised her left hand, and I immediately covered my eyes as I brace for impact.
But I felt a hand on my right shoulder. Huh..?
I opened my eyes, I saw Lyra's face, and she was smiling. "Good job, Nitwit."
And so, she turned around and walked away from me. I could still see her stiff form as she walked, hell, even her fists are clenched.
She really hates losing. I mean, her goal is to be the strongest, so to her, losing meant everything. I turned to look at my sword, "Sorry, Lyra."
Lyra walked past Saul, but she paused as his hand landed on her shoulder.
"You did well," Saul tried to comfort her.
"I know." Her gaze drifted back to me. "But he's better."
Her hands fists tightened ever so slightly. She exhaled, turning back to Saul. "Good for him... but I want to do even better."
Saul looked at Lyra, seeing the fire in her eyes burn brighter and brighter.
"Saul, I want to be a Sword Saint. How do I achieve that?"
Saul stared at Lyra for a while, then he finally spoke, "At your current level, you're not strong enough for that."
Lyra flinched at that remark.
"But," Saul continued, "You will reach—"
She moved her shoulder, buzzing off Saul's hand as she walked past him. Saul simply stared at Lyra, and sighed.
***
--Tomorrow, Lyra--
"Mom! I'm going for a walk!" Kyro called as he slipped into his leather shoes, tugging the straps tighter around his feet. The leather creaked softly beneath his fingers as he stood. "I'll be back before evening."
"You better be!" Mom's voice echoed from the kitchen, accompanied by the clatter of pots and the rhythmic scrape of a spoon against metal.
He stepped outside a moment later, closing the door behind him with a quiet click.
I came down the stairs shortly after, the familiar weight of my sword settling against my back as I secured its sheath. Saul had given me this blade during my birth month party. The leather grip was smooth, the steel gleamed. It was clear that this was a newly forged sword, and I thanked Saul for giving this to me.
I moved through the living room, the cobblestone floor landing softly beneath my boots, then into the kitchen. Mom stood at the counter, her back to me as she scrubbed a pot with vigorous strokes. I grabbed an apple from the wooden counter, its skin cool and smooth against my palm. She didn't even glance my way as I stepped out into the backyard.
I took a bite of the apple, the crisp sweetness bursting across my tongue. The juice dribbled down my chin, but I didn't bother to wipe it away. My mind was already elsewhere, focused on the restless energy coursing through my veins.
The backyard stretched before me, familiar and welcoming. I walked through the green grass where Saul, Kyro, and I usually trained. Soon, I reached the barn, the massive doors stood slightly ajar, and I pushed them open the rest of the way, sunlight spilling across the hay-strewn floor like liquid gold.
Inside, Papa sat on a flat stone, milking one of our cows. A wooden bucket sat beneath the udder, already half-full. Thorskil wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, his movements steady and practiced. Then, he must have heard my footsteps, because he turned his head and saw me standing there, my sword strapped to my back.
"Lyra, good morning," he said, his voice warm and easy. "Did you finish your chores?"
I didn't answer. Instead, I hurled the apple I had been holding toward him. He caught it effortlessly, his reflexes as sharp as ever. Before he could say another word, I was already moving, my sword singing as I drew it from its sheath.
I swung with all my strength, aiming for his midsection. But when I thought I would finally land a hit, he was gone. My blade connected with the stone he had been sitting on instead, the metal biting deep with a sharp crack. The cow beside me let out a startled low, its ears twitching nervously.
"Nice form, Lyra," Thorskil said, now standing beside me, clapping his hands together. His smile was wide, his eyes alight with amusement.
I gritted my teeth, frustration coiling in my gut. "HARGH!" I swung again, this time my blade finding a wooden beam. The wood splintered with a satisfying crack, but Thorskil had already moved, his form a blur of motion.
"Oh man," he sighed, shaking his head. "I just fixed that beam last week."
"Train me, Papa!" I demanded, rushing toward him again. "You're a Sword God, right?!"
I swung at him repeatedly, each strike faster and more determined than the last. But he weaved through them all, his movements fluid and effortless, as if he were dancing rather than fighting.
"Why do you keep avoiding training me?!" I swung again, my arms burning with the effort.
"Lyra, why are you—" Thorskil began, his voice calm.
I cut him off. "Train me!" I swung once more, and this time my blade sliced through the barn's door, sending a shower of splinters across the floor. The sound of wood splitting filled the air, sharp and final.
Thorskil sighed, stepping closer to me. His hand reached out, not to strike, but to rest gently on my shoulder. His nose twitched slightly, as if he could scent the emotions radiating off me—the insecurity, the frustration, the desperate need to prove myself. "Lyra, it's clear something is weighing on you," he said, his voice soft but firm. "You can always talk it out with your pops."
The moment his hand touched my shoulder, something inside me snapped.
My left hand shot up, gripping his wrist in a vice-like hold, while my right hand swung my sword with all the force I could muster.
BAM!
The impact sent Thorskil skidding backward, his boots carving deep grooves into the dirt as he slid across the field. The barn's side exploded outward, wood splintering like kindling under the force of the blow. My muscles trembled, veins bulging along my arms as I panted, my vision tunneling with the exertion.
I didn't wait. I dashed forward, my heart pounding in my ears. "ARGH!" I yelled, swinging again with everything I had.
Time seemed to slow.
I watched as my sword inched toward Thorskil's face, the blade catching the sunlight like a sliver of fire. For a moment, I thought I had him, but then, he sighed.
As everything moved in slow motion, Thorskil simply stepped to the side, his movements almost lazy, and walked just behind me. Before I could react, he leaned slightly forward towards me, his breath warm against the back of my neck.
With a single, almost gentle chop of his hand against the base of my neck, my aura shattered.
It was like glass breaking, the fragments of orange light dissolving into the air, scattered by the breeze. The force was so light it wouldn't have hurt a fly, but it was enough to disrupt the barrier that had protected me for as long as I could remember.
"Ah—!" I gasped, my knees buckling beneath me. The world tilted, darkness creeping in at the edges of my vision. But before I could hit the ground, Thorskil caught me, his arms wrapping around my torso. My body went limp, my sword slipping from my grip and clattering to the ground.
For a moment, there was silence. Then, Thorskil sighed, his breath steady against my hair. He turned, carrying me effortlessly, and set me down on the soft grass just outside the barn. The barn's side was now a gaping hole, the door hanging by a single hinge. He looked at the damage, then back at me, his expression unreadable.
"You're giving your pops unnecessary work," he said, his tone light, but there was a edge of exhaustion beneath it. "how troublesome."
***
After what felt like an eternity, I opened my eyes.
The world was blurry at first, the sunlight too bright, the air too still. I groaned, rolling onto my side and pushing myself up onto my elbows. My head throbbed, a dull ache pulsing behind my temples. I rubbed the back of my neck, wincing at the tenderness there. What happened? I remembered swinging, remembered the force behind my neck, remembered my aura shattering like glass.
"What just... Huh..?" I muttered, the memory clicking into place.
Just then, Thorskil's voice cut through the silence, calm and steady as ever. "You calm now?"
I blinked, my vision clearing as I looked up. Thorskil stood a few feet away, playing with my sword as if it were a toy. The tip balanced perfectly on his pinky finger, wobbling slightly but never falling.
"What... what happened?" I asked, my voice hoarse. I rubbed my temples, trying to piece together the fragments of memory.
Thorskil lifted his pinky, and the sword spun upward, flipping end over end before he caught it effortlessly by the hilt. "Well, I made sure to calm you down without hurting you." He followed my gaze to the sword in his hand, his expression turning serious. "And if you think I'm giving you this sword back, you're sorely mistaken." He gave me a small, teasing smile. "I can't give it to you yet if you're just going to attack me the moment after. I've still got chores to finish, you know?"
I gritted my teeth, frustration flaring anew. "Why...?" I turned away, curling my arms around my legs as I stared at our house in the distance. The familiar sight of the farm, the barn, the fields.. It all felt less like home, more like a cage.
Thorskil raised an eyebrow, watching me with an unreadable expression.
"Why are you farming like a regular person...?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. The words tasted bitter on my tongue. "With all that power... I really want to be like you, Papa. To be one of the strongest. No, to be the strongest..."
Thorskil paused, setting the sword down in the grass beside him. The steel gleamed in the sunlight, a silent testament to the battle we had just fought. He sat down next to me, the grass rustling softly beneath him.
"Is it because of yesterday's match?" he asked, his voice gentle. "About Kyro actually beating you for the first time?"
I didn't say anything. I couldn't. The words stuck in my throat, heavy and suffocating. My eyes burned, tears welling up before I could stop them.
Thorskil knew. Of course he did. He always knew.
"You came to me so that you could become stronger fast, correct?" he said, his voice soft. "Since I'm the Sword God, way above Saul, who's a Sword Saint."
I hesitated, then nodded, wiping at the tears that spilled down my cheeks. I hated this—hated feeling so small, so powerless.
"Lyra..." Thorskil's voice was gentle, as if he were speaking to a wounded animal. "Losing is part of growing. And you can't skip your way to the top." He reached out, hesitating for just a moment before resting his hand on my shoulder. "There's a reason why I can't train you, even though you really want me to."
"Then why?!" I yelled, turning to face him, my voice breaking. "Tell me why?! I've always admired you. After knowing you're one of the strongest people in the world, I wanted to be like that!"
Thorskil paused, his hand still resting on my shoulder. He sighed, long and slow, as if the weight of the world had settled onto his chest. "Okay, fine. Since you insist." His voice remained calm, but there was a tension in it now, something dark and heavy. He looked down at his hands, his calloused fingers flexing slightly. "You see, Papa is... cursed."
Cursed?
What did that even mean?
"You know the Blade God?" Thorskil continued, his voice dropping lower, as if he were sharing a secret that could shatter the sky. "Yeah, well... I've been disobeying his commands for years. And he hates me for it."
I tilted my head, confusion twisting my thoughts. "Why?"
Thorskil hummed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "A Sword God has two roles to play. One is for darkness, and one is for light." He gestured upward, toward the endless blue above us. "And you see, a Sword God must play his role to entertain the boss," he said, a bitter edge creeping into his tone, "which is the Blade God. In dreams, he gives us commands on what to do. And each task must be followed carefully to avoid displeasing him."
He turned his gaze toward the house, his expression distant, as if he were seeing something far beyond the walls, far beyond the fields. "And as you may have guessed, I am the darkness." His hand clenched into a fist, the tendons standing out sharply against his skin. "And my role is to cause destruction, spread evil, and create chaos."
I stared at him, my mind reeling. This was my father, the man who had raised me, who had carried me when I was tired, who had laughed with me and scolded me and loved me.
And now he was telling me he was supposed to be some kind of... monster?
"But I never liked the job," Thorskil said, his voice quiet, almost ashamed. He looked at his left hand, as if it held the answers to questions I didn't even know how to ask. "So eventually, I quit. And to stop being the Sword God of Darkness, I must train someone who has the affinity to handle the power of darkness. If they don't have the affinity for it, they'll die automatically after the first day of training." He looked at me, his rose-colored eyes filled with a sorrow I had never seen before. "When I start training someone, a portion of the power of darkness will automatically transfer slowly over time. And with enough time, the power of darkness will find a new host and become the new Sword God."
I sat there in stunned silence, staring at my father as if I were seeing him for the first time.
"And so, the Blade God commanded me to train a particular person." Thorskil's voice was heavy, each word like a stone. "That person should've been my successor. The next Sword God." His hand clenched tighter, his knuckles turning white. "But instead of training him, I killed him." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Because... I saw the future. He was the person destined to destroy the world. And I stopped it."
I turned to him, my breath shallow and my heart pounding so loudly I was sure he could hear it.
He looked up at the morning sky, his expression unreadable, but I could see it.. The tension in his jaw, the way his fingers flexed at his sides like he was bracing for a blow. It was as if he were daring the Blade God himself to strike him down right then and there. The defiance in his stance was palpable, but so was the exhaustion, the weight of years spent under a burden no mortal should have to bear.
"You see why I don't train you?" His voice was quiet, but it cut through me like a blade. "Because you don't have the affinity to wield the Power of Darkness." He turned to me, his rose-colored eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my breath catch. For a moment, I saw something in them I had never noticed before; not just strength, but sorrow. Deep, unshakable sorrow, like a wound that would never fully heal.
Then he turned his face forward again, his gaze drifting back toward the house. The silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating. I could feel the words pressing against my chest, demanding to be let out, but I didn't know what to say.
"Now," he continued, his voice low, as if he were sharing a secret with the wind itself, "since I disobeyed the Blade God's command, he sent people to kill me." His hands clenched into fists at his sides, the callouses on his knuckles standing out starkly against his tanned skin. "Strong people. Assassins. Warriors. All of them sent just to defeat me." He exhaled sharply, his breath shaky for the first time since I had known him. "But I killed them all first."
There was no pride in his voice, "None of them had the ability to stand against me. And eventually..." His voice softened, just slightly, as if the memory could cut through the darkness of his past. "I met your mother."
A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "And the rest, as they say, is history." He glanced at me, his expression shifting, the weight in his eyes easing just a fraction. "Do not worry, Lyra. Even if he sends more fighters to kill me, I will always win." His voice was absolute, brooking no argument. "I will always protect you, and Kyro, and your mother. That is a promise."
The certainty in his voice was like a warm blanket, and for the first time since I had woken up, I felt something inside me settle. The fear, the confusion.. It didn't disappear, but it lessened just a little. But it was short-lived, because then he turned to me fully, his eyes burning with an intensity that made me sit up straighter, my own fears momentarily forgotten.
"I want you to grow," he said, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument. "And be strong in your own way. Grow as a swordsman in your own way, Lyra." He reached out, his hand resting on my shoulder, his grip warm and steady, grounding me. "Be free from the shackles of the gods."
He paused, and for a moment, I thought he was done. But then, the corner of his mouth twitched, and a small, almost mischievous smile tugged at his lips. "More specifically," he said, his voice lightening as if he were sharing a private joke, "the two morons, Lightning God and Blade God."
The sudden shift in his tone caught me off guard, and I blinked, my mind still reeling from everything he had just revealed. I felt a small, reluctant smile tugging at my own lips. Only Papa could go from talking about divine curses to calling gods morons in the same breath, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Thorskil chuckled, the sound rich and warm, and it was as if the weight of the world had lifted from his shoulders, if only for a moment. The lines around his eyes crinkled, and now he looked like the father I had always known; the one who teased me, who challenged me, and the one that loved me.
"They think they're so clever, sending their champions after me," he said, tapping his chest with his fist. "But they forget one thing." His smile widened, and there was a glint in his eyes, "I'm still here. And I'm not going anywhere."
I leaned my head next to him. "Sorry, papa.. for attacking you."
A moment of silence followed.
Then, Thorskil leaned forward and kissed my head. "How about I bake you your favorite carrot cake, hm?"
I looked up, and nodded.
[End]