Arthur's Training – Mana Threading
Arthur stood in the training field, arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently. Hyorinmaru was still eating—his small dragon form perched on a rock, lazily munching on a piece of ice.
"Oi! Aren't you done yet?" Arthur called out, frustration clear in his voice.
Hyorinmaru flicked his tail, not even bothering to look at him. "Don't rush me, you fool. You know good meals take time."
Arthur groaned, rubbing his temples. "It's ice! How long does it take to eat ice?!"
Finally, Hyorinmaru stretched his wings, letting out a satisfied sigh before flying over and landing on Arthur's shoulder. "Alright, shall we begin?"
Arthur nodded. "Yeah. What's today's training?"
Hyorinmaru smirked. "Today, we still focus on your Mana Threading Training Method. You mastered the first step, now for the second.
Arthur listened closely as Hyorinmaru continued.
"Your second test—Thin Ice Formation. You will release mana from your fingertips and form ultra-thin ice strands in the air. The goal? Keep them from breaking."
Arthur blinked. "That sounds… ridiculously hard."
"Of course it's hard. Now get to work." Hyorinmaru yawned and climbed onto Arthur's head, curling up and shutting his eyes.
Arthur sighed. "Unbelievable… He's sleeping already."
He turned his focus back to training. "Alright, let's try this." He took a deep breath, concentrating. "Let the mana flow through my body…" His temperature dropped, his breath turning visible in the cold air. "Now… discharge it through my fingertips!"
A crack echoed through the air. A massive chunk of ice shot out from his hand, freezing a part of the ground.
Arthur groaned. "Way too much! This really does need extreme control."
Hyorinmaru, still half-asleep, muttered, "Of course it does, fool…" before dozing off again.
Arthur exhaled sharply, determined. "Alright… I need to make it smaller, like a needle." He tried again. This time, the ice strands formed but immediately shattered into pieces.
Failure after failure. No matter how hard he tried, the strands kept breaking.
Arthur clenched his fists. "Think… what am I doing wrong?"
Then an idea struck him. "Wait… what if I control the speed of the mana flow? Instead of forcing it out all at once…"
He took another deep breath, calming his mind. "Slowly…"
This time, the mana flowed steadily. Thin ice strands began to form, shimmering in the air. They were fragile, yet they didn't break. He held them there, stable and controlled.
Arthur grinned. "I did it!"
Excited, he turned to Hyorinmaru. "Oi, I finally got it!"
Hyorinmaru opened one eye, inspecting Arthur's work. "Not bad, human. You're learning."
But then, Hyorinmaru's expression changed. He flapped his wings and landed in front of Arthur, looking him up and down. "Arthur… what have you been doing? Your body is ice cold."
Arthur, still grinning, waved him off. "I'm fine."
The next second, his vision blurred. His knees buckled. Then—
Thud!
Arthur collapsed.
"Arthur!" Hyorinmaru quickly pressed against him, using his warmth to regulate his body temperature. "Tch, idiot. You pushed yourself too far again."
---
Ronan's Training – A Teacher's Painful Past
Ronan walked back to the dojo, sweat dripping down his face. Jiro, the old man training him, was waiting with arms crossed.
"I'm done," Ronan panted.
Jiro nodded. "Good. Rest for a while. We'll begin the next training soon."
Ronan dropped to the ground, catching his breath. Moments later, Jiro returned with a mat.
"Lie down," the old man instructed.
Ronan frowned. "Uh… why do I need a mat?"
"Stop asking questions."
Sighing, Ronan lay down.
Jiro smirked. "Alright. Next exercise—100 push-ups."
Ronan blinked. "That's not too ba—"
"With me on your back."
Ronan shot up. "WHAT?!"
Jiro smacked his head. "I wasn't finished yet!"
Ronan groaned, rubbing his forehead. "Not happening!" He got up, walking towards the back of the dojo.
Jiro followed him. "Are you sure you really want to get stronger?"
"Of course I do!"
"Then where's your determination?" Jiro's voice turned sharp. "Training without determination is a waste of effort. Strength isn't just about training. If you don't have the heart for it, you'll never truly improve."
Ronan clenched his fists. "I AM determined!"
But then… his mind flashed back to the Sage Trials.
The moment he lost to Leo.
The frustration of being weak.
The sight of Arthur, standing victorious despite the odds.
Arthur, who had no flashy techniques, yet used his intelligence to win. Arthur, who protected everyone in the dungeon when things went south.
Ronan grit his teeth. "Being weak is NOT an option." His fist tightened. "I have to get stronger. I can't let Arthur leave me behind. I have to prove I'm his rival!"
With newfound resolve, he turned back.
Inside the dojo, Jiro was staring at an old picture.
Ronan approached. "Was he your student?"
Jiro's face softened. "He wasn't just my student. He was my son—Takeshi."
Ronan's breath hitched. "Where is he now?"
Jiro's voice was heavy. "He's dead. Or rather… killed."
Ronan swallowed hard. "Do you know who did it?"
Jiro shook his head. "No."
"Tell me everything."
Jiro sighed, gripping the picture. "I opened this dojo ten years ago. At first, I had no students. My son, Takeshi, was my first. I trained him, and he honed his skills. Then, a tournament was announced."
Ronan listened intently.
"I didn't want to participate," Jiro continued. "I knew how corrupt the system was. But Takeshi insisted. He said, 'This is our chance to make the dojo known! If I win, we'll finally have students!' He smiled at me… and his smile gave me hope."
Jiro's hands trembled. "But two days before the tournament… I wasn't home. When I returned, the dojo was in ruins. My son was missing. I followed a trail of blood… and found his shirt soaked in red. But his body was gone."
A heavy silence filled the room.
Jiro sighed. "That day shattered my hopes and dreams. Later, I rebuilt the dojo… and made it my home."
Ronan clenched his fists. Then, he placed a hand on Jiro's. "I'm sorry for not showing determination earlier. But that makes me your second student. And I'll carry out the dream of my predecessor."
He stood up, eyes burning with resolve. "Let's train. And let's win that tournament!"
Jiro looked at Ronan, his old eyes glistening. Then, he gave a small nod.
"Alright." He smirked. "Now… get back to training. Give me 100 push-ups!"
Ronan grinned. "Fine."
Jiro sat on his back.
"…Wait, what?!"
And so, the brutal training continued.