novelraw Chapter 99 : The Small Step Forward
Chapter 99 : The Small Step Forward
(Rooga POV)
Morning light poured through the window before I even opened my eyes. For once, it wasn’t Father’s voice that woke me — it was Kain’s.
“Up, pup. You’re late.”
I blinked, rubbing sleep from my eyes. “Late for what?”
“For proper training.”
His voice carried that gruff mix of command and humor that made it impossible to tell if he was joking. I dressed fast, half out of excitement and half out of fear that he’d drag me out of bed himself.
The field looked different under Kain’s watch. He’d cleared a wider space, marked a line in the dirt with the edge of his boot, and laid two practice swords on the ground.
Father stood a short distance away, silent and watching, arms crossed. For once, he wasn’t the one holding the weapon.
Kain pointed to the spot before me. “Stand there.”
I obeyed.
He paced around me like a hawk inspecting prey. “Feet apart. Wider. You’re not planting a flower, boy — you’re anchoring a tree.”
I spread my stance. He nodded, then kicked my back foot lightly. “Not that wide. You’re not giving birth either.”
That earned a faint chuckle from Father in the background.
Kain ignored it. “Good. Now grip. Firm, but not rigid. The sword’s not a hammer. It’s a partner. You guide it, it listens.”
I adjusted my grip the way he showed me. My shoulders felt awkward, but balanced.
Kain moved behind me and lifted my arms slightly. “There. That’s a warrior’s line. Your father makes you swing a thousand times because he’s built like a wall. You’re not. You’re a stream. You flow.”
“A stream?”
“Exactly. Don’t resist the motion. Let it carry through your arm and down your back. Every swing begins at your heel and ends at your fingertips.”
He demonstrated once — one clean, diagonal cut that looked almost too simple. The air hissed behind it.
“Now, your turn.”
I swung, slower than I should have.
“Too stiff. Again.”
I tried again.
“Better. Again.”
It became a rhythm — his steady voice correcting, my body adjusting. Unlike Father’s endless repetition, Kain explained why each motion mattered. The way the weight shifted through the hips. The breathing that kept rhythm with the blade.
An hour passed before I realized how much easier it felt.
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Kain nodded approvingly. “Good. That’s the start. Remember, a thousand perfect swings begin with one right swing.”
Father stepped forward, arms still crossed but a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Not bad.”
Kain glanced at him. “See? He’s already learning faster than you did.”
Father only grunted, which from him counted as agreement.
As I caught my breath, the familiar shimmer of the HUD flickered faintly in the corner of my vision.
For the first time in days, the numbers shifted.
[Basic Sword Art — Slash: Proficiency 74.01%]
It wasn’t much. Barely even visible.
But it was something.
My chest tightened with a mix of relief and excitement. It finally moved.
Kain noticed my expression and smirked. “Feels good to see progress, doesn’t it?”
I nodded quickly. “Yeah… it really does.”
“Don’t chase it,” he warned. “Chase the form. The rest follows.”
I smiled faintly. “Yes, sir.”
He clapped a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Then tomorrow, we start on breathing control. You’ll curse me before the week’s out, but your sword will sing for it.”
For once, I didn’t dread the morning. I was already looking forward to it.
The next morning, Kain woke me before the first light.
He didn’t knock. He kicked the door open, tossed a waterskin at me, and said, “Drink. You’re going to need lungs today.”
When I groaned, he only grinned. “Don’t whine. You wanted progress, didn’t you?”
I did. So I got up.
The field was cold with dawn fog, the grass still wet beneath our feet.
Father watched again from a distance, arms folded, the same quiet presence as always.
Kain, on the other hand, had a bundle of thin reeds tucked under one arm.
“What are those for?” I asked.
“Your new teacher,” he said, placing one in his mouth and handing me another. “Put it between your lips and don’t let it fall. You’ll learn how to breathe like a swordsman.”
I raised an eyebrow. “That’s… weird.”
“Good,” Kain said. “Weird means you’ll remember it.”
He drew his own sword and took his stance, the reed still held steady in his mouth. His movements were calm, deliberate. Each swing came with a steady breath out, then an inhale through the nose before the next motion.
“Your breath controls your tempo,” he said through the reed. “Lose your breath, lose your swing. A man who swings without air dies faster than the one who swings late.”
I tried to mimic him.
My first few swings were a mess — the reed fell immediately.
Kain sighed. “Again.”
I picked it up, bit it tighter, swung again.
It slipped after the third motion.
“Too tense,” he said. “You’re breathing like you’re scared to exhale.”
“I am scared,” I muttered.
He chuckled. “Good. Fear keeps you humble. But don’t let it rule the air.”
I kept at it, forcing myself to breathe slower, to match the rise and fall of my arms.
Exhale through the swing. Inhale before the next.
Each motion started to fall into rhythm — like waves hitting shore.
Father called out quietly from the fence, “Good form.”
It was the first time he’d said it.
Kain smirked at him. “See? I told you. Teach a kid to breathe first, and he’ll teach himself the rest.”
An hour passed, then two. The fog began to burn away, and with it, my frustration.
Every swing felt lighter — not easier, but cleaner.
The air between motion and rest started to feel connected, like invisible strings linking each cut to the next.
Kain watched closely. “That’s it. You’re not fighting the sword anymore. You’re moving with it.”
I didn’t answer. My body was too focused, too in sync.
I swung again, and the sound cut sharp through the morning air — a clean, pure note that echoed differently from all the others.
Kain’s grin widened. “Hear that? That’s your breath finding your blade.”
When I finally stopped, sweat dripping down my forehead, the familiar shimmer flickered at the edge of my vision.
[Basic Sword Art — Slash: Proficiency 74.31%]
[Hidden Condition Activated: Breath Rhythm Alignment]
It wasn’t a huge jump, but it was progress — faster than before.
Kain must’ve noticed the way I smiled, because he laughed. “You felt it, didn’t you? That pull between breath and motion.”
I nodded. “It feels… connected.”
“That,” he said, “is the first step toward Flowing Cut. When air and muscle move as one, the sword doesn’t just follow — it dances.”
That evening, my arms still ached, but I couldn’t stop replaying that sound — the single clean note of a perfect swing.
For once, I wasn’t swinging for numbers or approval. I was swinging because it felt right.
I sat by the window as the forest glowed faintly under Maori’s light, the sword resting beside me.
Every breath I took felt heavier, fuller — alive.
I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly, letting the rhythm return.