Chapter 81: Strain

The training Father was putting me through not only demanded peak physical performance, but it also drained my mental energy unreasonably. To the point that I felt a noticeable decline in my other tasks, especially when I worked on the Stormguard set for Aleya and Priam.

The set was mostly functional now; Aleya could fly around wearing it with a bit of practice. Setting the levitation formations on the pieces was even easier than my own boots, since I had a lot of room to work with. Sadly, the troubling issue only began there. The set was still missing another vital formation.

Since the Stormguard set emphasised high speed and efficiency, it was lighter than all the legion sets, making its defence more fragile than most Prestigious Class gears.

To circumvent that, I needed to implant another formation that utilised kinetic force. However, this one forms a force-field barrier that wraps around the entire armour to boost its defence. You could already imagine how difficult it was to put together the formation in different pieces of equipment and make it so that once they were assembled, the formation would unite to function perfectly. The levitation formation had a similar level of complexity, but it didn't require a dozen pieces to work together to function. More so, if there was even a small gap in the force field, enemies could easily leverage that to gain the upper hand.

Conversely, if the force field functioned perfectly, the single enchantment would permit a Prestige-Class Augmenter to fight a mage of the same rank on equal footing.

The advanced rune formation was something I had studied for a long time. It was essentially the same formation in my [Band of Protection], but the one in my bracelet was compressed to an unprecedented level. What was astounding was that the compressed runes didn't lack any of their functionality. Along with its inner weave, it could even be utilised more freely.

Unlike the Stormguard set, I could practically use the protective force field of the [Band of Protection] on anything within its range.

I was already under strain, engraving the formation into a full-blown armour. How Mum managed to fit it all into such a small ornament was beyond me.

After studying the design, I deliberated over it for a moment before moving on to creating the blade. I had already crafted a long sabre. Crafted as in I did all the smithing myself, since Mum refused to even touch the pieces. According to her, the only reason I still hadn't made it as a Journeyman Artisan was because she had been helping along the way, not letting me develop the nuances required to be versatile.

My blacksmithing had advanced from mediocre to subpar. Still, simply with my mastery of rune engraving, I made the sabre into Noble grade, with the enchantments of Sharpness and Power Blast.

If only it were any good.

"An exceptional sword doesn't make one a true swordsman," Father had said, while testing the sabre, "but it surely helps."

Then he handed me the Noble sabre. Evidently, mine was not exceptional by any measure.

Although it was functional, it felt weird to wield it. Most people would probably kill for a sword that could blast energy, killing their enemies instantly, but after I practised with it for a session, I could easily tell what was wrong with it. For starters, its balance was seriously uneven, which also made the other enchantments deficient.

This meant my shaping hadn't been enough to mould the metal into a perfectly balanced sword.

I smelted the metal back into the hearth and punished it for my own error, hammering it incessantly until my breath became ragged, sweat beads forming all over my face.

This time, I decided to craft it the old way, without using my shaping. Well, mostly. I still used shaping to make sure there was no oxidation or air bubbles trapped inside the steel, saving it from being some glorified brittle rubble.

The whole process took a long time to finish, long enough that I could have crafted a couple of perfect shields in that time, which didn't require such precision.

After engraving the runes and the essence veins, I came out of the workshop to find the sun was dipping closer to the horizon. Eran, Priam, and Instructor Delric were already practising under Father, having missed me today. Even considering the day being shorter during winter, I spent almost six hours in the workshop.

"About time you appear," Father said, arching his eyebrows.

"Is that my blade?" Priam asked, breaking away from his form, excitement evident on his face.

Without answering him, I handed it to Father. I could have inspected its build, too, but my examination would take a while to bear fruit. While Father swung the sabre once, and then another time in a returning arc. Previously, he had only required those two swings to tell me what was wrong with the blade, but now he moved through different forms, the cool wind coalescing around him, as though enchanted by the breathtaking display.

Father handed it back. "It is nearly perfect."

"Where do I need to improve?" I asked, mounting the same stance.

Father shrugged. "I'm not a swordsmith; why ask me?"

Before I could try a few practice swings, Priam's silhouette appeared out of nowhere and seized the blade from me. I could have evaded if I used the boots, but I didn't bother, feeling a strain of lathergy settling on my limbs.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

"Wow, it's still hot," he said, taking a stance with the metre-long sabre.

Eran joined, too, but Priam wasn't giving it to anyone for testing. His figure blurred through the field, sometimes in a low sweep, a few times high in the air, vaulting to swing the blade in wild arcs.

"The Spell says the blade can blast sword energy," Priam asked, "why can't I use it?"

I shot him a pointed look, before shaking my head. "That enchantment requires you to channel either aura or essence into the blade. Can you do either of the two?"

And it wasn't pure sword energy.

Instantly, his expression soured.

"Here," said Delric. "Let me show you."

Despite not being able to wield the blade, Priam was conflicted about lending his new possession to someone competent. But he wished to witness its full power as well, and hence had no choice but to hand it to Delric.

In the instructor's hand, the runes in the sabre glowed as soon as he poured in his aura. A halo of red aura coalesced on the long blade, on the brink of exploding out the compressed force.

Moving towards the more open field, Delric waited no more, and slashed. A ray of reddish sword energy bit through the earth, digging a narrow canal no shorter than two metres. He pushed his aura through a few more test strikes, wrecking the earth as he pleased.

"This is at least one-fifth stronger than my sword," said the instructor, "and I haven't wielded all my aura."

Father held an unimpressed look on his face. Although he said nothing, I could glimpse the disapproval in his eyes.

What Instructor Delric demonstrated with the sabre was only the imitation of a True Swordsman's basic aura sword. Essentially, what took years for Father to master was achievable by a mere piece of equipment. If it were any lesser man, they probably would have fallen into depression.

"Alright," he clapped his hands, "enough playing with toys. Get back to practice."

Priam seemed like he wanted to take the Noble Sabre home, but I knew the right words to deter him.

"You can take it if you want to do the polishing and coating on your own."

He made a face, but handed back the weapon. "And how long will the rest of the gears take?"

I tilted my head, considering. "Give me a week more." It probably wouldn't take that long, but I needed to make myself a couple of gauntlets and vambraces.

I sparred with Eran and Priam, two against one, as a warm-up, while Delric waited for his turn. If the two of them worked together, then perhaps it would be a tough duel for me to win. But to no one's surprise, Priam didn't make a good team with anyone, not even his own sister, who usually came to practise during the evening as well.

In the morning, I fought with Father's friends from the militia. Half of them didn't even favour a sword, let alone being true swordsmen, but since it was all about gaining varied fighting experience from different opponents, sparring with them was invaluable.

Well, for one thing, I could not beat any of them. Most of them had lived over twenty winters, and their build reflected that. Every one of them had over a hundred points in their physical attributes. Even if I could read their moves, it wasn't easy to hurt them. So I put most of my effort into predicting my opponent's moves.

Even then, I had to invest some points into my physical attributes, taking them closer to the fifty-point mark. It did spend some good points, but I believed I had enough unallocated points for my present magical attributes and the attributes I would gain once I advanced.

Besides, it wasn't as if I couldn't earn more points. The sixty-odd points were a worthy investment if I continued to refine my swordsmanship.

While the number of my sparring partners grew, Instructor Delric remained the primary opponent. I hadn't yet beaten him even once during our countless spars. However, the distance between us wasn't as immeasurable as on the first day. Now I could land a blow or two.

I gained the upper hand against both Priam and Eran. However, before I could claim victory, Delric entered our conflict, pushing aside my two poor opponents.

He charged at me, his sword falling into the form of Tidal Wave.

"Wait for your turn!" I snapped, swiftly activating the levitation boots to evade his attack.

Delric rushed me before I could catch my breath.

I parried his sword, and saw Father in my peripheral vision. Since he was standing so calmly, it could only mean that it was all under his guidance. His plan to push me unexpectedly hadn't yet borne any fruit, though he was motivated as ever.

With all the improvements I had made, it would suffice to say I wouldn't be completely vain against Delric. But as my swordsmanship was improving, Delric wasn't simply slacking off under Father either. His sword skills had improved greatly, not to mention he knew all about my swordsmanship. Father had taught him all the moves, and with his sword foundation, he soaked it all up like a sun-cursed sponge.

In barely a week, the sword forms he demonstrated were on par with mine. Coupled with his sword sense that saw through all my moves, Delric became an impregnable wall.

Normally, this wouldn't have affected me. I saw the duels as a crucial experience to push myself further. But today, I came worn out from crafting, lacking the energy required to face such an opponent. And yet, they chose this day to push me the furthest.

My frustration mounted, as his sword drove at me, driving me backwards. I could only withdraw and defend, and even at that, I was doing a terrible job of it. Delric seemed to forget he was fighting someone half his age. He struck as though facing a great devourer.

The [Band of Protection] fended off all the strikes that I missed, and there were too many of them. I wasn't keeping count, but I was certain I had lost more than twelve points. Yet Delric showed no sign of relenting.

And while I was saved from most of the physical pain of the assault, the complete inability to even defend vexed me beyond reason. So much so that just to screw with his sword sense, I dispersed all my essence threads towards him, churning with wind shaping.

I didn't weave them into a wind blade, or even attack. That wasn't my purpose.

The trajectories a True Swordsman sees weren't limited to sword attacks, but to all lines of attack. So when forty-odd new lines appeared in his senses, Delric broke mid-stirke to assume Walking Mountain and withdrew.

There was no way I was leaving a chance like this. There was no chance of my winning. Blighted ashes, I probably lost twice over. But I wanted to end it on a good note. I wanted to land a hit at least once.

Haste accelerated my pace, as I charged, the duelling cane held upwards in my right. When it came down, Delric's sword was there to parry. My grip tightened, but I didn't lose hope. I hopped up in the air, wind curling all over me, twisted by my shaping. I poured more Weight, compressed my essence, as each tendril of wind smacked at Delric like a whip.

Even if he had reached the state of True Swordsman, how many could he defend against?

Delric's aura surged, his sword swung through the air, cutting through the twisted air, when my cane landed on his shoulder.

"What just happened?" Priam asked.

I sighed and withdrew my blade, the whips of wind wilting away. "Sorry about that."

Delric shook his head, not at all frustrated.

"It didn't help, did it?" Father joined, brows knitted together as he inspected me.

"What do you think?" I said, scrunching my nose.

"Do not worry, I still have other ideas that will help you push beyond the boundaries."

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A/N: Please bear in mind that I'm writing this thinking Arilyn is at least 13.