Colin and Safira left the inn, heading southwest.
The town, which had seemed quieter during the day, was less busy, but still had a few disoriented drunks wandering the streets.
As they moved away from the village, silence gradually took over, only interrupted by the rhythmic footsteps of Colin and Safira. However, a few meters ahead, a metallic clang of swords cut through the air.
Colin frowned, curious about the source of the sound.
As he got closer, he spotted Bastiat and Kaldor engaged in sword practice. Both moved with agility and precision, each blow echoing in harmony with the metallic dance of their blades.
"Colin! Safira! Good morning!" said Elara as she approached. "How was the coffee?"
"It was good," said Colin, keeping his eyes on his workout.
"It's always good to keep your body and senses in shape," she commented. "You should train too, the boys can teach you a few things."
Bastiat and Kaldor were immersed in an intense workout, where the dance of the swords echoed like a symphony in the air.
Bastiat, with agile and graceful movements, glided across the training ground, his sword cutting through space with impressive speed. Each blow was an explosion of fluid movements, demonstrating agility and dexterity.
Meanwhile, Kaldor maintained a firm stance, his sword slicing through the air with brute force. Each blow was propelled by considerable force, leaving a trail of power in the blade's wake. His approach was more solid, each movement calculated to maximize efficiency and power.
The two combatants were complementary, creating a unique dynamic on the training field.
Bastiat danced around Kaldor, dodging with agility while launching precise attacks.
Kaldor, for his part, absorbed the blows with unwavering resistance, responding with controlled and powerful counterattacks.
These two differed from the soldiers who had captured him: they seemed to know exactly how to move, where to step and when to dodge.
They were very well-trained.
Clang!
Kaldor knocked Bastiat's sword away, and he fell on his butt. Leaning his sword on his shoulder, Kaldor offered his partner a hand to get up.
"Colin! Safira!" they greeted. "Have you come by train too?"
Colin waved one of his hands.
"We just came to see."
"We should train. We're thinking of going to the bandits' cave in four days. What do you think?"
"Fine with me…" said Colin, without much interest.
"Here!" Bastiat tossed a sword into Colin's hands. "Go train with Kaldor now. We want to see what you know."
Colin looked at the sword, subtly turning it to feel its weight.
It's not heavy, and I can move it freely, but I prefer smaller weapons.
"Okay…" Colin started walking toward the center of the field, surrounded by trees.
"Don't hurt him, Kaldor!" joked Elara.
"I'll try, hehe!"
They stood in the center of the grassy field. Kaldor kept his sword at waist height, in a neutral stance—a versatile position that allowed quick movements for both attack and defense.
Colin held his sword diagonally, the tip pointing toward his opponent.
Is he experienced? Thought Kaldor. This stance… it gives him an advantage for effective defense while maintaining the flexibility to move and attack quickly. A useful pose for deflecting frontal attacks and creating favorable angles.
Colin, on the other hand, was merely imitating the combat stance of the samurai class he played in a Japanese indie game.
"Colin will have to rely on speed," said Bastiat, standing next to his sister and Safira. "Kaldor is too strong, and Colin won't stand a chance in a contest of strength."
"Has the new boy decided to train?" said Darian, approaching from the back with some rabbits tied to a rope slung over his shoulder. "Taking on Kaldor in a sword fight right away? He's brave."
Safira clenched her fists and pursed her lips, a little apprehensive.
The atmosphere was charged with anticipation.
He's not going to make a move? Thought Kaldor. Fine, I will!
Woosh!
Hurriedly, Kaldor advanced in an arcing motion. Colin managed to defend himself just in time, the impact pushing him back and lifting him a few centimeters off the ground.
Clang!
What kind of strength is that?
Colin touched his feet to the ground again and moved quickly towards Kaldor.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
He began his counterattack with fluid movements, advancing diagonally towards Kaldor.
His attacks were precise, exploiting the mobility offered by his Side Stance.
With quick, sharp blows, he sought to create angles that would break through his opponent's guard.
Kaldor responded with solid defenses from his Middle Stance, efficiently blocking the attacks with his sword.
"Is Kaldor being pressured?" said Darian. "The elf is good!"
Elara and Bastiat were impressed.
"I wonder… is he also from the Tree of Might?" commented Bastiat.
Colin continued to press forward, combining slashes and thrusts, keeping Kaldor on the defensive.
The agility and versatility of his stance allowed Colin to move quickly around Kaldor, looking for opportunities to attack and test his opponent's resistance.
It's like when I faced those soldiers in the crypt, Colin thought in the midst of exchanging blows. I feel like I have total control over my body. I'm stronger than on Earth… that's why this sword feels so light, and I'm faster… two weeks ago I couldn't run for five minutes without getting tired, and now I'm engaged with this guy who carries a huge sword like it's nothing, and I'm still far from my limit!
"Are you smiling?" shouted Kaldor. "I'll wipe that smile off your face!"
Colin replied, widening his grin even more.
Kaldor, patient and strategic, began to read Colin's attack patterns.
He adjusted his position, moving smoothly to block the blows even more effectively.
While Colin tried to exploit openings in Kaldor's defense, the latter watched calmly, waiting for the right moment.
Now!
Then, in a surprising move, Kaldor quickly slid to the side, dodging a side attack from Colin.
A feint?
Taking advantage of the opening, Kaldor spun his sword and launched a precise counterattack, aiming for the momentary weak point in Colin's guard.
Swish!
Kaldor's blow found its target, but Colin turned his sword in time, hitting Kaldor with the flat of his opponent's back.
The shock was almost silent, and for an instant, the training ground seemed to freeze.
Colin, surprised, tried to react, but it was too late. Kaldor had found the perfect opening and hit his opponent.
Pah!
Colin fell to the ground, defeated, while Kaldor stepped back, showing respect for his opponent's skill.
"You fought well!" said Kaldor, offering his hand to Colin, who took it. "We can continue if you want."
Colin gripped his hand and stood up.
"Fine with me."
The training ground echoed with applause, recognizing the remarkable skill of both warriors.
"That was incredible!" exclaimed Elara. "I didn't think we'd have two Pujance users in the group."
Users of what? Colin wondered.
"Well done," congratulated Darian, giving a thumbs-up. "Those bandits won't stand a chance!"
Colin noticed Safira smiling at the attention she was receiving and, without realizing it, smiled back.
The castle stood imposingly, a sinister shadow against the sky.
Its once-grand stone structure had now been overtaken by neglect and the wear of time.
The towers, once majestic, now seemed to rise like silent sentinels, watching over the surroundings with an air of desolation.
As they approached, the atmosphere around the castle grew dense, as if the building itself exuded abandonment and hopelessness.
The doors creaked as they opened, revealing a gloomy interior filled with dancing shadows.
In the main hall, light filtered through the cracks in the windows, illuminating dust suspended in the air.
A feeling of emptiness and desolation permeated the space, as if the castle were an echo of a forgotten past.
At the heart of the castle, a peculiar room revealed the presence of cultists.
Candles flickered around a magic circle drawn on the floor, casting a dim light that outlined symbols and runes.
In the center of the circle, a cultist sat, immersed in a dark aura.
The cultist, dressed in dark, ornate robes, seemed to be in deep concentration.
His gaze, however, hinted at a connection with something beyond the visible, while shadows danced around him, echoing a mystical power.
The castle's silence was broken only by the faint murmurs of the cultists.
"How long will this take?" asked one of the cultists, looking out of the window at the village below.
"A few more weeks."
"Weeks? I thought he'd been baptized by Braz'gallan."
"That's why it will take less time than planned."
The cultist at the window stepped away.
"Let's return to prayer. The sooner we finish this, the better."