Chapter 35: Spar (1)
"You guys have finally mastered every move included in the technique," Old Man James said with a cheerful smile.
Standing before him were Ragnar and Noah, drenched in sweat, breathing raggedly.
It was the mid hours of the afternoon, and the sun still beat down harshly on their bodies.
"The Starving Sword Dance, I developed this technique solely in my prime and also at my darkest moments of life," Old Man James narrated.
"I was in my late twenties when I was sent on a mission to a distant town. On my way there, deep inside a vast forest, I was set upon by a pack of ferocious horned wolves. At that moment, I overestimated my strength and underestimated my enemies’, thinking I could fight and defeat them," he continued, shaking his head in regret over his mistakes.
"I managed to hold my ground against the horned wolves for almost an hour without any warning, but then I was utterly spent and out of breath. I began fleeing as they pursued me relentlessly, vengeful for their pack members I had slaughtered,"
As Old Man James spoke, the two youths’ eyes lit up with eager interest. They settled on the rough, uneven ground, comfortably listening to his tales with intrigue.
"Fortunately, there was a rushing river ahead of me, and horned wolves are known to hate water, so I plunged into the current and swam to the far side, where immense hills and jagged mountains awaited me,"
"Yet the horned wolves never relented, they established themselves on the river’s far bank, relentlessly watching me with no hope, stranded on the solemn narrow shore between looming mountains and certain demise,"
Noah and Ragnar took in every detail of the horned wolves, they secretly prayed they would never face a creature so vengeful.
"Hours passed, days slipped by, and I survived solely on that unforgiving river water. A few days later, I found my strength steadily decreasing as starvation firmly took hold of my body,"
"The forest was my only nearby source of food, and the horned wolves were blocking my path,"