The first hint of dawn had yet to paint the sky when Caston's hand gently shook Salson awake. A silent understanding passed between them as they slipped out of the quiet house. The air was crisp and carried the promise of a new day, though the sun remained stubbornly hidden beyond the horizon. Their short journey led them to the edge of the neighboring village of Blavance. There, nestled amongst the humble dwellings, stood a dojo.
Caston stopped before the entrance, his gaze softening as he looked at the young boy beside him. "It is time for us to part ways, Salson," he said, his voice low but firm. "Within this dojo resides a sword master, his skill with the blade unmatched in these lands. He will impart upon you all the knowledge you need for the path of the sword. I have reached the limit of what I can teach you; he is truly one of the finest swordsmen in the entire kingdom."
With those words, a hint of melancholy in his eyes, Caston turned and began his walk back towards home, his figure soon swallowed by the pre-dawn gloom. Salson watched him go for a moment, a strange mix of apprehension and anticipation swirling within him, before stepping across the threshold of the dojo.
The interior of the dojo was serene. The floorboards gleamed with a pale, white sheen, contrasting with the warm, natural tones of the bamboo walls. The space was vast and elongated, a single, expansive chamber dedicated to the art of combat. Scattered across the polished floor were several pristine white cushions, seemingly untouched. At the far end of the room, seated in a posture of quiet contemplation upon a larger cushion, was an old man.
His attire was simple yet dignified – a dark brown kimono cinched at the waist by a black belt. Time had etched its story upon his face in a network of deep wrinkles, suggesting an age that might well exceed seventy years. As Salson hesitantly entered, the old man's eyes, though aged, held a sharp and welcoming glint.
"Welcome, my dear boy," the old man's voice was surprisingly strong, tinged with a gentle amusement. "My name is Kan, and from this day forward, I shall be your sword master. I may be seventy years, but as you can see, I carry the weight of many more, haha."
Kan rose with a fluid grace that belied his years. "Now then, young one, tell me your name and your age."
Salson, still slightly overwhelmed by the atmosphere of the dojo and the presence of the old master, replied, "My name is Salson, and I am five years old."
A flicker of surprise crossed Kan's face, quickly replaced by a knowing smile. "Five years old, you say? Well, Salson, you have all the time in the world to learn. Here, you are my only student. Follow me."
Kan led Salson to a small adjoining room and presented him with a simple white kimono and a plain wooden sword.
Emerging from the small room, Salson now wore the clean white kimono, the smooth wood of the katana resting in his small hands. Kan observed him with a keen gaze.
"Your first lesson," Kan began, his voice calm and measured, "is this: you must strike me just once with that wooden sword. Succeed in this simple task, and I shall bestow upon you that sword hanging on the wall."
Salson's eyes were drawn to the magnificent weapon displayed on the wall – its blade rippled with an unnatural wave pattern, its color a deep, mesmerizing violet. He gripped the wooden sword tighter, a surge of determination coursing through him.
Kan moved with an effortless grace, settling into a ready stance, his eyes fixed on Salson. He waited patiently for the boy's attack.
Salson, though small, possessed a natural agility. He launched himself forward in a sudden burst of speed, aiming a strike at Kan. But the old master moved with an almost imperceptible swiftness, easily parrying the clumsy blow. In a counter-move that was equally swift, Kan tapped Salson lightly with the hilt of his own unseen sword, sending the boy tumbling to the wooden floor.
"Hmm," Kan mused, his gaze thoughtful. "Even at five years old, you possess an agility and strength that surpasses many of your peers. I will train you, Salson, and impart upon you all that I know."
And so began Salson's rigorous training under the watchful eye of Master Kan. The old master soon noticed peculiar traits in the boy, echoes of the legendary Saland. An unusual resilience seemed to flow through Salson, his skin possessing a strange, almost serpentine toughness. His movements, even untrained, held a speed that defied normal human limits, and a raw strength that belied his tender age. Kan, though lacking such innate physical gifts, held the invaluable advantage of decades of experience.
A year passed in a rhythm of sweat and instruction. Salson grew stronger, his small frame developing a wiry resilience. Yet, striking Kan remained an elusive goal. Slowly, almost instinctively, Salson began to grasp the edges of his unique abilities, his natural agility becoming a more conscious tool in their daily spars.
Each morning, as the first light kissed the horizon, Kan and Salson would share a simple bowl of milk, a quiet ritual before the day's arduous training began. Kan would patiently explain the nuances of swordplay – the optimal stances, the most efficient movements, the flow of energy within a strike. Then, the wooden swords would clash. Salson's innate talents began to surface more readily, but Kan's seasoned skill and foresight always kept him a step ahead.
Their midday meal was a simple fare of rice noodles and meat, a brief respite before they returned to the dojo, their training continuing until the last rays of the setting sun painted the sky in hues of orange and purple. As the day drew to a close, Kan would wait until Salson's youthful exhaustion claimed him, before quietly slipping out to procure provisions for the following day.
Another year turned, marking Salson's seventh birthday. A subtle shift occurred within him as he began to intuitively tap into his innate capabilities. During one particular sparring session, without conscious intent, a spark of raw magical energy flickered from him, striking Kan. The old master, despite his age, reacted with lightning speed, parrying the unexpected energy, but the force was enough to shatter Salson's wooden sword.
In that moment, a realization dawned in Kan's eyes. He recognized the nascent form of the Saland aura beginning to coalesce within the young boy.
That night, before Salson drifted into sleep, Kan's voice was gentle but firm. "Salson," he said, "you must learn to anticipate your opponent's actions. Only by reading their intent will you ever hope to defeat me."
Another year spun by, and Salson reached the age of eight. He now possessed a rudimentary understanding of the Saland power, a foundational grasp of the energy that flowed within him. Kan's training intensified. "Young one," he declared, "from this point onward, I shall no longer hold back. In these past three years, your progress has been remarkable, but you still have much to learn about harnessing your true strength."
The following morning, after their customary bowl of milk, they faced each other in the training hall. Kan's posture shifted, his focus sharpening. With a subtle movement, his third eye opened on his forehead, radiating a potent energy. "Now," he stated, his voice resonating with newfound intensity, "let us be truly serious. Wind Sword Slash!"
Kan's aura intensified, a tangible pressure filling the air. A vibrant, light green energy emanated from his entire being, swirling around him and coating his unseen sword. With a swift dash, he attacked Salson, who, with growing skill, managed to parry the blow. Salson attempted a quick counterattack, aiming for Kan's back, but the old master deflected it with ease. However, Salson channeled his nascent magical energy into his strike, initiating a sudden clash of raw power. Kan, without hesitation, unleashed his own aura, and with a decisive strike, shattered Salson's wooden sword, sending the fragments clattering to the floor.
"You came quite close that time, Salson," Kan remarked, a hint of pride in his voice. "Continue like this, and you will learn to control your power."
From that day forward, Kan's instruction shifted, focusing on the proper manipulation of magical energy and the conscious control of Salson's aura. Slowly but surely, Salson began to understand how to channel his inner power, learning to calibrate its flow and intensity. He also discovered that he could infuse his aura into the wooden sword, enhancing its strength and durability.
Another year passed, and Salson celebrated his tenth birthday. Sensing his student's growing strength and understanding, Kan decided it was time to introduce him to the fundamental concepts of power levels in their world.
It was morning, and as they shared their breakfast, Kan's expression turned serious. "Salson, there is something important I must tell you now."
Salson looked up, his youthful curiosity piqued. "What is it, Master Kan?"
Kan continued, "In this world, the majority of individuals possess an innate ability – a unique power that belongs solely to them. I too possess one, and you experienced a glimpse of it last year. However, when someone manages to cultivate their innate ability to its peak, they might undergo an evolution known as Awakening. This is essentially the dormant power within us, the true form of our potential. But beyond Awakening lies another stage, attainable only when one achieves perfect inner balance. It is called Equilibrium, the apex of an individual's strength. I tell you all this, Salson, because I want you to understand that you have the potential to reach even that point."
As soon as they finished their meal, Kan's gaze intensified. "Tonight, Salson, will be your final opportunity to defeat me. Give it your all!" A rare, encouraging smile touched his lips.
Kan, now seventy-five years, remained remarkably sharp and strong for his age. Salson dedicated the entire day to solitary practice, honing his sword techniques and refining his control over his burgeoning aura. As dusk painted the sky in deepening shades of twilight, they stood once more in the center of the dojo. This time, Kan held a real katana, its polished steel gleaming in the fading light.
"Tonight," Kan's voice resonated with a quiet intensity, "we shall be truly serious. Wind Sword Slash!"
Kan's aura erupted, a palpable force that shimmered around his entire body, a vibrant, almost luminous green that also enveloped the sharp blade of his katana. On his forehead, his third eye opened, its green pupil containing an intricate, otherworldly symbol. With a swift, almost imperceptible movement, Kan lunged, his katana aimed at Salson.
Salson, his senses heightened by years of rigorous training, reacted instantly, dodging the deadly strike. Focusing his inner energy, he channeled his aura into the wooden sword, hardening it to an almost metallic resilience, and parried Kan's follow-up attack. The old master's blade danced through the air, a whirlwind of precise and deadly strikes, but Salson, with a newfound speed and clarity of vision, parried each one, his wooden sword holding firm. He attempted a counter-attack, a lightning-fast thrust aimed at Kan's side, but the experienced master sidestepped with ease.
Kan shifted his stance, and with an incredible burst of speed, struck Salson's flank. But to Kan's surprise, the boy showed no sign of serious injury. Instead, Salson's aura flared, its color now a deep, pulsating violet. A realization dawned in Kan's eyes – Salson had managed to partially unlock his innate ability. "Young one," he chuckled, a genuine surprise in his voice, "you continue to amaze me, hehe!"
They exchanged a flurry of blows, Kan unleashing a rapid barrage of slashes, but Salson, his movements now imbued with his awakened power, deflected each one without his wooden sword breaking. Kan, relying on his third eye, a gift honed through years of training, could perceive up to ten seconds into the future, allowing him to anticipate Salson's every move and parry with uncanny accuracy.
Salson, his body surging with raw magical energy, lunged towards Kan. Their blades met with a resounding clang, the force of the impact creating a visible shockwave that rippled through the air. In that brief moment of contact, Kan looked into Salson's eyes and saw a flicker of the legendary fighting spirit of Saland. A momentary hesitation wavered his resolve, and Salson seized the opportunity, attempting a swift strike. But Kan, with a lifetime of combat ingrained in his reflexes, reacted instantly, delivering a powerful punch that sent Salson flying across the dojo, crashing against a bamboo wall.
Salson struggled to his feet, wincing slightly. He looked at Kan, expecting anger or disappointment, but instead, the old master was smiling, his gaze filled with a strange, almost wistful fondness.
Salson, fueled by a surge of adrenaline and determination, took his stance once more and launched himself at Kan, swinging his hardened wooden sword in a final, desperate arc. Kan, instead of parrying, caught the wooden blade in his bare hand. Tears streamed down his weathered face as he pulled the boy into a tight embrace.
"Did… did I win?" Salson stammered, confusion and exhaustion clouding his young mind.
Kan's voice was thick with emotion as he replied, "Yes, my boy, you have won. You have improved immeasurably since you first arrived, but know that your journey has only just begun. Your innate ability is not yet fully realized, but I have no doubt that in the future, you will become far stronger than you are now. You have been the finest student I have ever had."
Releasing Salson, Kan turned and walked towards the wall where the magnificent violet sword hung. He carefully unhooked it and turned back to Salson, presenting it to him with both hands.
"This sword," Kan said, his voice regaining its usual calm, though still tinged with emotion, "is called Mountain Cleaver. It was once wielded by a dear friend of mine. As we agreed five years ago, I bestow it upon you now."
A gentle smile graced his lips. "Now, Salson, you are free to return home."