After Sir Gareth's scolding, we returned our focus to training. After he asked me to perform the strikes I had mastered a few more times for his analysis, it became evident that he wasn't satisfied with what he saw.
— "Boy, your movements are at best average," criticized Sir Gareth with a stern look as I repeated the same motions. "We need to polish you a bit more. First, we'll correct those obvious flaws in the movements you've already learned before moving on to new techniques. Are you ready?"
— "Yes, Sir Gareth. Please help me get stronger," I replied, my voice filled with anxiety and a desire to learn. My connection with the spear, which lately I had begun to appreciate as a weapon, drove me to want to improve with every training session.
— "Good. That's the spirit! Hahaha," Gareth responded. I was surprised to hear his explosive laughter, something I rarely witnessed. It seemed that my enthusiasm wasn't the only thing filling that sweat-drenched, determined atmosphere.
— "Boy, first we'll refine your thrust. The strike itself isn't bad, and your foot positioning is even correct—but your grip on the spear and the movement of your arms leave much to be desired," Gareth explained, still staring at me with his penetrating eyes. After a brief pause to let me absorb his pointers and understand where I needed to improve, he continued: "Fully extend your front arm—I noticed it's still slightly bent, and that compromises the strike's power. Don't forget about your rear arm either, the most crucial one, since it's what propels the spear. Put more force into it."
— "Hm... I think I understand," I murmured, mentally visualizing the adjustments Sir Gareth had pointed out.
— "Then don't waste time standing around, perform them so I can see if you really understood," he ordered.
— "Yes, sir," I replied.
I took a deep breath and, with my heart racing, focused once more on how to execute the strike correctly. I remembered that, until now, I had believed my movements were already good—only to discover they were merely average, even after receiving what seemed like a "gentle" evaluation from Sir Gareth.
As soon as I opened my eyes, confident that I would now perform the thrust perfectly, I began the motion: I kept my feet firm, as I had been praised for, and thrust the spear forward. When I finished, I immediately noticed—both from my own observation and Gareth's disapproving expression—that the strike hadn't turned out as I'd envisioned.
— "Hm... sorry, Sir Gareth. I promise I'll improve," I said, somewhat dejected.
— "Ah? Hahahahaha! What kind of boy did you think would get everything right on the first try? What sort of genius do you imagine yourself to be?" Gareth's stern face melted into a loud, contagious laugh. My stomach churned slightly seeing him lose his composure, laughing so hard he clutched his belly. Even Jina approached, looking startled, clearly unused to seeing her father act so carefree.
— "What happened, Father?" Jina asked, still slightly dazed.
— "This boy... He thinks he'll master the spear in just one attempt. Hahaha!" Gareth replied, still laughing.
My face burned with embarrassment for a brief moment. I had genuinely expected to get it right on the first try—that was my reality.
When Gareth composed himself, he turned his gaze back to me and continued: "If you could learn everything on the first try, Jina and I would be living for nothing. Do you know how many years I've practiced these techniques? How long it took me just to master the basics? It won't be as easy as you imagine, boy. Even if you were a prodigy, you'd still need to be polished through experience and constant practice."
— "Actually, I'm surprised by your progress. Did Jina teach you? Tell me, had you never used a spear before?" Gareth inquired.
— "N-no. In fact, when I met Jina, it was the first time I'd ever held a weapon," I answered, hoping my inexperience wouldn't hinder my continued training.
— "Ugh... Jina told me. At first, I doubted it, but now I see it's true. Very good, boy. It seems you might have some talent," Gareth stated, his stern expression shifting into something more promising, as if he saw me as a rough diamond ready to be polished. "But don't get too full of yourself—before you can soar like a dragon, you still have to crawl," he warned, his voice heavy with admonishment.
— "Okay. Let's continue. Now show me your horizontal slash," Gareth commanded, changing the subject and pushing me into another round of training. "We'll identify the flaws in your horizontal slash today, and tomorrow we'll repeat it until your muscles memorize the correct technique," he concluded, an almost sadistic look stamped on his face.
I swallowed dryly under that piercing gaze but quickly steadied myself. I took a deep breath and performed the horizontal slash so Gareth could analyze it again.
As expected, the moment I finished, Gareth's voice rang out, listing all the visible flaws he had noticed in that single motion.
— "You're rotating your hips insufficiently. This slash is meant to push back enemies or strike exposed areas, primarily arms and legs. It's essential that you rotate more to generate power."
— "Okay, Sir Gareth, I'll do better next time," I replied. Even if the motion wasn't perfect, I knew each attempt would be a step toward improvement. And that's exactly what happened: when I repeated the motion, Gareth, his voice now slightly softer, praised, "Very good."
I was happy with the praise, but before I could savor the moment, he added: "But it's still not good enough."
I began to understand better what it meant to be trained by Gareth. Constant praise wasn't expected—what I truly wanted was to hone my skills to the utmost. If I really wanted to evolve, a teacher like Gareth was unmatched, because even if I executed a move correctly, if there was room for improvement, he would point it out immediately. That level of demand excited me for the days ahead in our training.
After a few more hours of training under Sir Gareth's guidance and corrections with every move, we reached the end of the session. Since I had arrived late, we decided to continue tomorrow. To be honest, I was exhausted. Every muscle in my body ached, and my hand hurt too.
When I reached the door to say goodbye, I said, "Goodnight, Jina. Goodnight, Sir Gareth! Thank you for today, see you tomorrow!" as I waved.
"Goodnight, Ishida," Jina replied, waving back.
"See you tomorrow, boy," Gareth said, retreating into the house.
After the goodbyes, I returned to the inn. Ruthia seemed to have already retired to her room, so I entered quietly. After a refreshing bath, I went to bed, hoping my body would recover with a good night's sleep.