The morning sun spilled over the training grounds, brushing the field in gold. The scent of dew and steel hung in the air. Rogan, Will, and Lyssara stood in their usual formation, each waiting for Hunnt's direction.
Hunnt's voice broke the quiet. "Watch closely. The rhythm of each strike tells a story — your weapon will only listen once you learn to speak its language."
He moved into his stance, calm but deliberate. The longsword cut through the air in smooth arcs — each swing steady, controlled, and unhurried. Rogan's eyes followed every movement, tracing the shift of Hunnt's feet, the alignment of his shoulders, the pause between each breath.
Lyssara and Will stood a few steps away, whispering to one another as Hunnt continued to demonstrate.
"What kind of training do you think he'll throw at us this time?" Will asked, lowering his voice.
Lyssara tilted her head slightly, her expression soft but thoughtful. "Something that hurts, probably."
Will smirked faintly. "He's intense."
Lyssara gave a short laugh. "No — he's precise. That's worse."
Hunnt turned his head slightly without stopping his motion. "I can hear you two."
They froze.
He finished the final swing with a low exhale, blade settling perfectly at his side. "If you have enough energy to talk," he said, "then you'll have enough to train twice as long."
Will swallowed hard. "Yes, Hunnt."
Lyssara tried not to laugh and failed.
Hunnt turned to Rogan. "Now it's your turn."
Rogan nodded firmly and stepped forward, his grip tightening around the Drakeshard Reclaimer. He inhaled deeply, replaying Hunnt's demonstration in his head. Then, one by one, he began to replicate the strikes — slow and steady.
The air whistled faintly with each swing.
"Fade Slash," Hunnt said, circling him like a hawk. "Evasive — step back with intent, not retreat."
Rogan exhaled, stepping into the rhythm.
"Foresight Slash — that's your counter. Let instinct meet patience."
Hunnt's tone was steady, each word deliberate.
"Spirit Helm Breaker," he continued, "strike from above when your enemy's rhythm falters. Don't just drop — descend with purpose."
Rogan's stance tightened.
"Iai Slash," Hunnt said next, "the art of waiting. Let your sheath become your silence — and your strike the answer."
Rogan nodded, each repetition sharper, more confident.
"And finally… Harvest Moon," Hunnt said, his voice quieter now. "Your circle of rhythm. It's not a stance — it's a promise that you won't falter once you begin."
Rogan's movements flowed smoother with every swing. The sword no longer looked heavy in his hands — it moved like it belonged there.
Hunnt watched carefully before nodding. "Good. You're learning. Slow first — always slow — until your body reacts on instinct. Speed means nothing without rhythm."
Rogan's breathing evened out as he finished another sequence. Hunnt gave him a curt nod. "Continue on your own. I want your muscles to remember before your mind does."
Rogan bowed his head slightly. "Understood, Hunnt."
Hunnt turned, walking toward Will, who stood testing the tension on his bowstring.
---
Will's Lesson
Hunnt stopped beside him. "You've learned to shoot, reposition, and use Power Shot — but you neglected something important."
Will blinked. "I did?"
"Yes," Hunnt said flatly. "Arc Shot."
Will looked away. "I forgot."
Hunnt sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "During the Gorvann fight, Willa was struggling. You could have used Arc Shot to relieve pressure, but you didn't. Do you even remember what it does?"
Will hesitated. "It rains arrows, right? For area coverage?"
"Close enough," Hunnt said, crossing his arms. "It's not about offense — it's about control. Arc Shot creates breathing room. When your allies can't move, you give them space to move again."
He looked straight into Will's eyes. "If you had used it then, Willa might've taken fewer hits. Remember, your job as a bow user isn't just to shoot — it's to see. You're the eyes of the team. You must read your allies' rhythm as much as your target's."
Will's shoulders dropped. "You're right… I didn't think that far ahead."
Hunnt nodded. "Then start thinking now."
He gestured toward the open field. "Bow users aren't cowards hiding at a distance. You're short and mid-range fighters. You can fight monsters toe-to-toe if you know how to flow. Dodge Step — evade, then re-aim. You're not running, you're adjusting. Charging Sidestep — move, charge, shoot — all in one breath. It's a drain, yes, but you? You have the precision for it."
Will tightened his grip on the bowstring. "Understood, Hunnt. I'll do better."
Hunnt's tone softened slightly. "Good. Then retrain your basics. Start with Arc Shot — make it part of your rhythm."
Will exhaled deeply and began to move, his bow arcing gracefully as he loosed a series of controlled shots.
---
Will's Retraining
Draw Shot – The foundation. Strength grows with patience.
Power Shot – Momentum in motion; pressure made visible.
Arc Shot – Rain arrows from above; protect the rhythm of the fight.
Dodge Step – Move, breathe, and aim in one flow.
Backstep – Retreat not in fear, but to find balance.
Charging Sidestep – Breath, movement, and power as one.
The sound of arrows slicing air filled the field. Will's rhythm grew steadier with each repetition, his movements syncing perfectly with his breath.
Hunnt watched in silence, then gave a faint nod. "Better. Now your arrows don't just fly — they breathe."
Will smiled faintly. "Thanks, Hunnt."
---
Hunnt turned to the last of the three. Lyssara stood quietly near a practice dummy, twin blades drawn, eyes sharp and expectant.
He approached her slowly. "Lyssara," he said, "do you know why your strikes lack strength?"
She looked down, frowning slightly. "Because I'm weak?"
Hunnt shook his head. "No. Because you're not using your full body — or your potential."
She looked up at him, puzzled.
"Do you understand the true role of Dual Blades?" Hunnt asked.
She shook her head. "No, Master Hunnt."
He drew two short wooden sticks from his belt and crossed them lightly. "Dual Blades are your heartbeat made visible — fast, relentless, and precise. They're not about waiting. They're about momentum, a dance where survival is rhythm."
Hunnt demonstrated, his movements blurring together — swift, fluid, alive. Each strike flowed into the next seamlessly, like a dance of breath and will.
"Your weapon's role," Hunnt continued, "is constant pressure. Adaptability. Movement. You force the monster into your rhythm. But you — you fight like an assassin. One hit, retreat. You're not pressing the fight. You're hesitating."
Lyssara clenched her fists, frustration flashing in her eyes. "Then what should I do, Master Hunnt?"
Hunnt smiled faintly — a teacher's approval. "You'll start with breathing — what I call Breathing Pulse. Without it, your rhythm will always break."
---
Breathing Pulse
Calm Pulse – Balanced inhale and exhale. Builds stamina and rhythm.
Frenzied Pulse – Rapid, shallow breaths. Sustains momentum.
Silent Pulse – Controlled breath holds. Transitions into mastery and flow.
---
"Every pulse has purpose," Hunnt said, lowering his sticks. "Calm Pulse for endurance, Frenzied for aggression, Silent for transition. Once you master them, your body will follow your heartbeat — not fear."
Lyssara's expression softened, determination flickering in her gaze. "I understand, Master Hunnt."
"Then begin," Hunnt said quietly.
Lyssara inhaled, her shoulders relaxing. She started moving, her blades slashing in tandem — steady, rhythmic, alive. The sound of her blades joined Rogan's steady strikes and Will's sharp arrows, forming a single symphony of rhythm and steel.
Hunnt crossed his arms and watched in silence. The morning sun glinted off their weapons, and for a brief moment, he could feel it — their growth, their balance, their potential.
"They're learning," he murmured to himself, a faint smile crossing his lips.
End of Chapter 242