Three days later, after giving himself time to gather a variety of wooden weapons, Frank called Jin to the outskirts of the forest. Under the morning sun that filtered through the dense canopy, Jin stood at the edge of the clearing. The air was crisp, the ground firm, and the open patch of land—chosen specifically to allow for unrestricted movement—was about to become his training ground.
Frank stood in the middle of the clearing, waiting. His scarred face was unreadable, but the faint smirk on his lips sent an eerie chill down Jin's spine. The older warrior had arrived earlier, bringing with him a large crate filled with weapons. Now, they were spread across the ground before Jin, each one catching the sunlight in different ways.
Curved swords, longswords, greatswords, sabers, rapiers, axes, maces—each wooden replica laid out meticulously. But alongside them were the more unorthodox weapons: a flexible sword coiled like a serpent, a hammer with a long handle, a flail, and even a chain with a sharp needle-like tip.
Jin swallowed. He knew Frank was serious about this training, but he hadn't expected such a wide arsenal.
"Jin," Frank's deep voice called, pulling him out of his thoughts. "Today, we find your weapon. Pick one, and we'll see if it suits you."
Jin hesitated for a moment before reaching for a curved sword—something familiar. He'd used a similar blade in past fights, so it felt like a safe choice. Frank raised a brow but made no comment. Instead, he picked up a wooden staff, holding it with one hand behind his back.
"You can use Aura," Frank instructed. "I won't. And I'll only use one hand. Come at me as if I were your enemy."
Jin's grip tightened. He knew the gap between them was vast. Holding back would be meaningless.
He rushed forward, his sword slicing through the air in a horizontal arc. Frank deflected it with ease, barely shifting his stance. Jin spun back, adjusting his angle, and slashed diagonally. Again, Frank intercepted, rotating his staff mid-motion. With a simple flick, the wooden sword flew from Jin's grasp, landing a few feet away.
Frank clicked his tongue. "Average. Try another."
Jin clenched his fists. He had fought monsters before, used weapons effectively, and yet—Frank dismissed him so easily.
One by one, he cycled through different weapons. Axe—too slow. Mace—too unbalanced. Sabers, rapiers, even greatswords. All met the same fate. None felt right.
Then, he picked up the spear.
The moment his fingers wrapped around the shaft, something clicked. His grip settled naturally—right hand near the center, left at the base. The spear's weight balanced perfectly in his hands, as if it had always belonged there.
Frank's expression, previously indifferent, shifted. His sharp eyes narrowed.
Jin took his stance. Unlike before, his Aura, which usually surged wildly, now flowed smoothly—controlled. With Frank towering over him at nearly seven feet, aiming for his neck was impossible. Instead, he adjusted his approach. Then, like a coiled spring releasing, he launched forward. The tip of the spear shot toward Frank's waist like a lightning strike.
Clack!
Frank blocked it, but this time, it wasn't effortless. The sheer momentum forced him to adjust his footing. Jin's spear struck again once, twice, each thrust hammering toward the same spot on Frank's waist with mechanical precision. The rhythm was predictable at first, a steady beat of relentless stabs. Frank prepared to call it out as another average performance when suddenly the pattern shifted.
Jin feinted low, then redirected his attack mid-motion, the spear darting toward Frank's shoulder. Frank barely deflected it in time, but Jin was already moving, his strikes flowing unpredictably waist, legs, arm, then waist again. The erratic shifts kept Frank on edge, forcing him onto the defensive for the first time.
Then, Jin saw it a brief opening.
He twisted his body and lunged, the spear tip aiming for Frank's neck.
Jin's spear thrust forward, his confidence surging as he aimed for Frank's neck, convinced he had finally created an opening. In that moment, his Aura instinctively gathered around his stomach—a subconscious attempt to brace for impact. But in the next instant, a crushing force slammed into him. Pain erupted like fire spreading through his body. His vision wavered, the world tilting violently as he was sent hurtling backward.
The impact was brutal. He tumbled across the rocky ground, his skin scraping raw against the jagged terrain. His breath hitched, his lungs refusing to expand, and an unbearable pressure in his stomach forced bile up his throat. He barely managed to roll onto his side before he vomited onto the dirt, his entire body shuddering from the aftershock of the blow. Even as the convulsions faded, a searing burn remained, radiating from the point of impact like a cruel brand.
A shadow loomed over him. A large, calloused hand rubbed circles on his back, easing the convulsions. Another surge of nausea overtook him before his body finally settled. His throat burned, his vision swam, but he could breathe.
"Drink."
Frank handed him a water container, which Jin greedily gulped down—only for the burning in his throat to remain. He coughed, eyes watery.
Then, he noticed something odd.
Frank's left hand was trembling. The warrior's usually steady grip wavered, sweat dripping from his unkempt brown hair. His pupils were unfocused, shaking as if haunted by something unseen. Then, in a gruff yet shaky voice, he muttered, "I think you know how talented you are with the spear, seeing as I failed to keep my word about using only one hand, right?"
Jin, still breathless, forced a grin. "Ha… that hit was hard, old man. But do you think… I survived in the back alleys… without learning how to take a punch?"
Frank blinked, his body stiffening.
Jin wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then pointed at him, smirking. "That's the face I wanna see every time I hold a spear from now on. Now… you gotta pay for that punch."
Frank's breath hitched. His mind had been sinking into old memories—of gleaming red eyes in the dark, claws that could rip through flesh like paper. The terror of a battle that had scarred him inside and out.
And yet, here was this kid, barely 11 years old, grinning through the pain like it was nothing.
"You're… not scared of me?" Frank asked, almost disbelieving.
Jin huffed. "I'd… believe any back alley kid… if they said you were a demon with a sloppy disguise. But Big Bro's the one who assigned you to teach me, so…"
His voice trailed off as he looked away, his usual bravado faltering into an embarrassed mumble.
Frank stared at him for a long moment before he clenched his shaky left hand. Aura flickered around it, as if trying to steady his trembling grip. Then, with a roar, he punched the ground.
The impact sent a burst of air surging outward. The earth cracked beneath his fist, a crater forming beneath him. The force alone was enough to make Jin stumble back onto his rear. He paled.
Was he mad?
Was he going to kill him for that demon comment?
Before Jin could spiral further, Frank let out a low chuckle. A grin stretched across his face—wide, wild, and filled with something raw.
"Sorry, Jin," Frank said, shaking out his hand. "I underestimated you. And… sorry about earlier. I'll make sure that doesn't happen again." Then, with a dangerous glint in his eye, he added, "But if it does, I'm sure you have the guts and pain tolerance to handle it, right?"
Jin's eyes widened. "N-No, wait, old man—no, Sir Frank—no, Master Frank—I'm actually very fragile—"
Frank cut him off by shoving the wooden spear back into his hands.
"Good," he said, stepping back and picking up his own weapon. He twirled it once, then pointed it at Jin.
"Now, let's continue."