Chapter 5: Household Chores
’When I asked for training... I didn’t mean this!’
Azel screamed inwardly as he brought the axe down with all the strength his ten-year-old body could muster.
THUNK!
The blade cleaved through the thick bark, splitting the log neatly into two.
Sweat trickled down his temples. His hands were blistered, the wooden handle rough against his soft palms.
His shoulders ached, his legs trembled slightly, and his stomach growled as if to remind him just how unfair life was.
It had been three months since he became the apprentice of the Sword Saint, and to say it was brutal would be putting it lightly.
This wasn’t the cool, scenic sword training montages from anime.
This was real, and it hurt.
Steven Thorne, the Sword Saint, a living legend feared and revered throughout the continent, lived in a modest wooden cottage deep inside the Dark Forest — a place that most people avoided like the plague.
And not just because of the name.