Chapter 30: Mastery of the Blade
Another five days had passed.
Velren had never once faltered in his training. Swing after swing, strike after strike, he pushed through the exhaustion. Each day was the same—slicing his katana through the air, all while his muscles were screaming in protest, yet he never wavered.
Gramps, ever so laid back, continued to give his rare words of advice, though they came sparingly.
"Your stance is off. Fix it."
"You're too stiff. Relax."
"Tsk. Swing again."
But despite the curt guidance, Velren slowly began to notice the changes within himself. His hands, once calloused from hunting, were now scuffed and sore in ways they had never been before. Yet, alongside the pain, he felt his posture shifting and his stance firming. The swings that once felt forced were beginning to flow naturally, as if the blade was becoming an extension of himself.
Fenrir and Skoll often kept him company during training, their presence were a welcome distraction. They talked about trivial things, past hunts, and the oddities of Gramps' habits. Even as Velren swung his katana, their conversations kept him grounded, offering him a sense of normalcy amidst the grueling training.
Still, progress was slow.
Until today.
***