Chapter 25: Where The First Light Broke
I watched Arthur carefully not just his swing, but everything beneath it.
His posture. The way his muscles flexed. The channels of his mana, the subtle alignment of bones through his shoulder and spine. He was trying. Really trying.
But still...
Too rough. Too stiff.
Too conscious.
He was mimicking what I told him but that sword art couldn’t be mimicked.
It wasn’t born from form. It was born from something else.
"Good," I said quietly. "But not enough."
Arthur straightened, sweat on his brow, chest rising and falling.
"What do you mean? I really don’t understand this whole... rejection-feeling-into-swing thing."
I sighed, stepping forward.
"I think you’re missing the point. This isn’t about style or strength. It’s your first time attempting it... and you don’t even have a Valeheart heart—"