Chapter 48: Intense Training
Instructor Dan led Kyle to the center of the dojo, making him to stand on the large mat there.
He walked over to the weapon rack, scanning the rows of swords on it with his eyes.
He reached out and selected a longsword, the polished steel reflecting the sunlight coming in through the windows.
"Pick yours," Dan turned around and said to Kyle.
"We're using real weapons?" Kyle couldn't help but say after noticing the weapons on the rack. He hadn't used such since coming here. "What if someone got injured?"
Dan nodded with smile and replied. "Don't worry. You won't be getting injured."
Kyle shrugged his shoulders and approached the rack, with a Katana in mind... Obviously.
He observed it after he held it up. The curved blade was sleek and the handle was wrapped up in black leather.
"A katana, huh?" Dan noted, ready to inform Kyle on his weapon choice.
"It's a solid choice, but not without its limitations. Its strength lies in its sharp, quick cuts and precision. It's ideal for fast, fluid strikes, perfect for someone with speed. But the weakness is its lack of versatility. You can't use a curved blade to thrust or stab, neither can its blunt side be used to slash, making it require careful control.
If you lose your grip or balance, you'll find yourself wide open."
Kyle nodded, gripping the katana a little tighter. He was familiar with the weapon, but hearing Dan explain its intricacies gave him a new level of respect for it.
"First," Dan began, stepping closer to Kyle. "Let's talk about your grip." "
He raised his longsword, showing Kyle how his hands were positioned on its hilt— it was firm but relaxed. His fingers curled around the handle, leaving just enough space for movement.
"Your grip needs to be firm, but don't choke the handle. You want control, but you also need flexibility. If your hands are too tense, you'll lose fluidity in your strikes."
Kyle adjusted his grip as Dan demonstrated, loosening his hold just enough to feel the difference.
Dan nodded. "Not bad. Now, I'll see you make a basic slash. The strength of your slash doesn't only come from brute force. It's about precision and speed. should want to make a clean, quick cut with the minimum force necessary.
Anything more, and you'll throw yourself off balance. Watch and learn."
Dan raised his sword above his head and brought it down in a smooth, swift arc.
The air seemed to cut as the sword traveled. He stopped just before the tip of the sword reached the ground.
"Now you," he said, stepping aside.
Kyle took a deep breath, positioning the katana above his head as Dan had done. With a quick motion, he brought the blade down in a supposingly clean slash.
Dan responded after watching him with concentration. "You've got the basics down, that's nice. But there's always room for improvement. Your wrists need to be more relaxed. You're still putting too much force into the swing. Again."
Kyle nodded and reset his stance, raising the katana and bringing it down once more. He focused on loosening his wrists, trying to let the sword move freely when released.
"Better,"Dan said. "Keep going."
For the next thirty minutes, Kyle repeated the motion over and over, each time adjusting his grip, and the force of the slash.
Dan corrected him as needed, but for the most part, but Kyle wasn't far off from what the instructor wanted. Still, Dan pushed him, demanding almost perfection.
Sweat beaded on Kyle's forehead, and his arms began to tremble with the strain. His wrists were sore, and his muscles ached from the repetition, but he kept going, determined to get it right.
'Damn this man!'
He said after going for another slash. It reached a point, where he didnʼt even care to listen to Instructor Dan's words before repeating.
"No. No. Hold it there, boy," Dan suddenly said after sensing Kyle's spirit. "You want to do these for the duration of this class, huh? If you don't want that, be more serious at getting it right, because the number of slashes you achieve won't help you here."
With that, Kyle's rhythm experienced a sudden change, as he began to slash with more determination.
After what felt like the hundredth slash, Dan held up his hand." Good enough."
'Finally,' Kyle thought lowering the katana. His chest rised and fell with heavy breaths. His wrists throbbed in pain.
"Let's move on, shall we?" Dan said with a smirk. "Show me your stance."
"What?!"
Kyle unknowingly said his intentions our loud.
"I said you should show me your stance. Quick."
'Ah... I can't even get a rest.'
Kyle let out a wry smile and shifted his feet, taking a traditional fighting stance—His left foot forward, right foot back, his knees slightly bent, and his sword held in both hands, the tip angled forward.
He had practiced this stance a thousand times, and it felt natural to him.
Dan circled him, his critical eye analyzing every muscle, every shift in weight. "Good. Solid form. But I can tell you're holding back. Relax your shoulders a little, keep your center of gravity lower."
Kyle adjusted as Dan instructed, feeling the change in his balance. There was a moment of tension in the air before Dan struck—a quick, probing attack aimed at Kyle's side.
Kyle reacted instinctively, his sword coming up to block the blow with a sharp metallic *clink*.
Dan nodded approvingly. "Nice reflexes. But you're still too stiff. Sword fighting isn't just about defense, Kyle. It's about flow, about knowing when to move and when to strike."
Dan moved again, this time faster, swinging his sword in a wide arc toward Kyle's shoulder. Kyle brought his sword up to parry, and their blades clashed, but this time the force of Dan's strike pushed Kyle back a step.
Kyle grimaced, feeling the weight behind the blow. Dan wasn't just testing him; he was pushing him to see how much he could handle.
"Don't just block," Dan instructed as he stepped back. "Redirect. Use your opponent's momentum against them."
Kyle nodded, gripping his sword tighter as Dan came at him again.
This time, when their swords met,
Kyle didn't simply block. He angled his blade slightly, letting Dan's strike slide off to the side. It was a minor movement, but it shifted the balance of the fight. Kyle followed up with a quick strike of his own, aiming for Dan's midsection.
Dan blocked it easily with fluid movement, but there was a glint of approval in his eyes. "Better. Much better. Keep that up."
For the next half-hour, they sparred like this—Dan attacking, Kyle defending and countering, slowly learning to adapt to the rhythm of the fight.
Every time Kyle thought he was getting the hang of it, Dan would change the tempo, increasing the speed or power of his strikes, forcing Kyle to react faster, and think faster.
By the end of the first hour, Kyle was breathing heavily and his muscles burned from the effort. Sweat dripped down his forehead, and his arms felt like lead, but he refused to slow down.
Dan wasn't just testing his skill; he was testing his endurance and his resolve.
"Take a break," Dan said finally, stepping back and lowering his sword.
'Finally... !'
Kyle exhaled in relief, lowering his own weapon. His hands were shaking slightly from the strain, but there was a thrill in the exhaustion.
He had never pushed himself like this before, but at least he was feeling improvement almost already.
Dan handed him a towel and a bottle of water.
"You're doing well, Kyle. Better than I expected, honestly. But you've got to learn to pace yourself. Sword fighting isn't a sprint; it's a marathon. You've got to conserve your energy, know when to strike and when to hold back."
[Energy: 6/36]
Kyle nodded, taking a long drink of water.
[Energy +10]
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[Energy +10]
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[Energy +10]
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[Energy +10]
[Energy: 36/36]
'What the hell? It should be the water.'
He wiped the sweat from his brow with the towel and looked up at Dan, who was watching him closely. He was feeling much refreshed, almost like he woke up from a long rest.
"That. The water you gave me, it made me feel refreshed... Anew. What was it?"
He asked Dan, wanting to find our such godly water he had received.
"Don't worry about it... Unless you want to pay for it, do you?"
"What? Heck, no!" Kyle said with a laughter, as they both laughed for some time.
"How do you know when to do that?" Kyle asked, breaking the few moments of silence. "When to hold back and when to go all in?"
Dan smiled slightly, leaning on his sword. "Experience. It's something you learn over time. Every fight is different. You've got to learn to read your opponent, to anticipate their moves. But more than that, you've got to know yourself.
You've got to be in tune with your body, your mind, and your sword. When you're in control, everything else falls into place."
Kyle thought about that for a moment, feeling the weight of the words. He had always focused on his technique, on mastering the movements, but Dan was talking about something deeper, something more intuitive.
After a few minutes, Dan straightened and gestured toward the mat. "Ready to go again?"
Kyle nodded, he wasn't feeling much of the fatigue in his limbs thanks to the water, and was determined to keep going. He couldn't stop now, not when he was learning so much.
They resumed their sparring, this time with a different focus. Dan began to teach Kyle about the finer points of swordplay—how to shift his weight during a strike, how to read an opponent's stance, how to feint and draw them into making a mistake. It was like a dance, each movement carefully calculated, but with an undercurrent of danger.
As the second hour passed, Kyle began to feel more confident. His movements became more fluid, more instinctual. He could feel the sword in his hand, not just as a tool, but as an extension of himself. Every strike, every parry, flowed together like water, and for brief moments, he felt like he was in control, like he was truly beginning to understand what Dan had been talking about.
But Dan wasn't done pushing him.
In the third hour, Dan began to test Kyle's limits. He increased the intensity of his attacks, moving faster, striking harder, forcing Kyle to react with everything he had. Sweat poured down Kyle's face as he struggled to keep up, his muscles screaming in protest. But he refused to stop.
"Focus, Kyle!" Dan barked as their swords clashed again. "Don't let your fatigue control you! Push through it!"
Kyle gritted his teeth, parrying a strike and countering with a quick slash that Dan barely blocked in time. His vision was starting to blur from the exhaustion, but he could feel something inside him—a spark, a flicker of the Sword Intent Dan had spoken of. It was faint, but it was there.
Dan must have sensed it too, because he suddenly stopped, stepping back and lowering his sword. Kyle blinked in surprise, breathing heavily as he lowered his own blade.
"What… what is it?" Kyle asked between breaths.
Dan smiled faintly, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "You felt it, didn't you? That connection. That moment when the sword wasn't just a weapon in your hand, but an extension of your will."
Kyle nodded slowly, still catching his breath. "Yeah… I think I did."
Dan sheathed his sword and walked over to Kyle, placing a hand on his shoulder. "That's the beginning, Kyle. That's where real mastery starts. You've got the talent, the potential. But you've got to nurture that connection, refine it. Sword Intent isn't something you can force.
It comes from understanding, from discipline."
Kyle looked down at his sword, his mind racing with everything he had learned in the last three hours. It was a lot to take in, but he knew Dan was right. There was something more to sword fighting than just the physical movements. There was a mental, even spiritual, component that he had only just begun to tap into.
Dan stepped back, looking at Kyle with a mixture of pride and expectation. "You've done well today. But this is just the start. You've got a long way to go before you can truly master Sword Intent."
Kyle nodded, feeling both exhausted and exhilarated. "I'll do whatever it takes."
Dan smiled, the first genuine smile Kyle had seen from him all day. "I believe you will."
The clock on the dojo wall read 7:00 PM. The three hours had passed in a blur, but Kyle felt like he had gained months, maybe years, worth of experience in that short time. As he gathered his things and prepared to leave, he couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement.