Chương 116: Chapter 16: Aurablade

Garrick POV By evening, I am standing beneath the Silverwood again, this time wearing my armor and carrying my own sword at my side. The weight of the armor feels familiar after a full day of wearing it, and the sword feels even more so, its worn leather grip fitting naturally beneath my palm when I rest my hand against the hilt.

After yesterday's training, I had spent the better part of the afternoon wondering what Elyrion meant when he told me to bring my armor, and despite having several ideas, none of them seemed particularly convincing. Elyrion is already waiting for me when I enter the clearing. His eyes move over the armor first, then settle on the sword at my side. He shakes his head. I stop.

"What?" He points toward my sword, "Leave it." I look down at the weapon, "This is my sword."

"I know."

"Then why?"

"Because you're not here to test your sword." I frown, "Yesterday you told me to bring my armor."

"I did."

"And now you're telling me not to use my weapon."

"Correct." I stare at him for several moments before slowly drawing my sword and setting it against one of the nearby trees. Elyrion walks past me toward a wooden rack positioned near the edge of the clearing. He reaches toward it and pulls free a simple iron sword, the kind of weapon that would be more at home in a training yard than in the hands of a seasoned soldier. There is nothing remarkable about it.

The blade is plain; the grip is wrapped in ordinary leather and the metal carries none of the marks that come from years of actual use. He tosses it toward me. I catch it by the grip. I look at the sword, then back at him, "That's it?"

"That's your weapon." I turn the blade slightly in my hand, "It feels like a training sword."

"It is an iron sword."

"Why not let me use my own?"

"Because I want you to learn something." I raise an eyebrow, "Another lesson?" Elyrion takes another iron sword from the rack, "Something you cannot learn by listening." He steps back into the clearing and draws his sword. I look at him for a moment before lowering my own, "You're going to demonstrate."

"I am going to fight you." That answer catches me off guard, "With these?"

"Yes." I glance at the plain blade in my hand, "You've brought me here in armor, taken away my sword and handed me an iron one."

"Yes."

"And now you're going to fight me."

"Yes." I shake my head, "I suppose there is a reason."

"There is." He raises his sword, "You'll understand it when you see it." I settle into my stance. The weight of the iron sword is different from my own, but not unfamiliar. It lacks the balance and refinement I've grown accustomed to, yet that may be precisely the point. I cannot rely on a weapon I know by instinct, which means every movement will have to come from me rather than from years of familiarity with the blade. I draw a slow breath and reach inward. Mana answers.

The sensation is still faint, but I can find it more easily now. I guide it through my limbs, allowing it to settle around my muscles without forcing it into place, and the familiar lightness begins to spread through my body. Elyrion watches me, "Ready?" I tighten my grip, "Yes." He moves first. I raise my sword to meet him, and the instant our blades collide, the impact runs through my arm hard enough to make my shoulder tense.

I turn the strike aside rather than trying to stop it directly, using the movement to carry his blade past me before stepping forward and bringing my own sword toward his side. Elyrion shifts backward. My blade passes in front of him. I turn with the motion and follow, keeping the mana moving through my body as I press the attack. He blocks the next strike, then another, and each time I feel the difference between fighting with my own strength and allowing the mana to reinforce what my body is already doing.

He isn't simply standing there anymore. The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. He moves with me. Every time I advance, he gives ground just enough to make me follow, and every time I think I have found an opening, his blade is already there waiting for mine. I change direction. He follows. I strike high and immediately bring the blade around toward his side, but he catches it before it reaches him and turns my sword away.

I recover the movement, step back into range and attack again, forcing myself to maintain the flow of mana even as my breathing begins to quicken. Elyrion blocks. I press forward. Our blades meet again, and I feel something shift in the exchange. Not in him. In me. For the first time, I am not thinking about where the mana needs to go before I move.

It is simply there, following the motion of my body as naturally as my own strength, and when I step forward again, I feel the reinforcement settle through my legs before my foot even touches the ground. Elyrion gives ground. Only slightly. But I notice. So does he. His expression changes for the briefest moment before he raises his sword again.

I tighten my grip and advance Top of FormBottom of Formagain, keeping my breathing steady as I bring the iron sword around in a wide arc, and Elyrion meets the attack without retreating this time, his blade catching mine near the middle before sliding along its length and forcing my strike away from him.

I recover immediately, turning my wrist and bringing the sword back toward his shoulder, but he steps inside the reach of my blade and forces me to retreat before I can complete the movement, his sword passing close enough that I feel the pressure of the swing against my armor. I give ground once, then twice, before planting my foot and turning back into him. Our swords meet again. The impact is harder this time.

I reinforce my stance with mana and push forward, using the strength flowing through my legs to drive the blade toward his guard, but Elyrion absorbs the pressure without allowing himself to be forced backward. I can feel the difference between us now. My mana strengthens what I already possess, but his movements are so economical that I cannot tell where his physical strength ends and his mana begins. I change my angle and attack again. He blocks. I follow. He turns the blade aside.

I step around him and bring my sword back toward his side, forcing him to twist with the attack before he catches the blade against his own. For the first time since the fight began, I see his expression change in approval. It lasts only a moment before he pushes my sword away and steps back. I don't give him the opportunity to reset. I follow immediately, drawing mana through my arms as I swing, and this time the blade moves faster than I expect.

Elyrion catches it, but the force carries him backward several steps before he finally stops. I breathe hard. He looks at me, "Better." I smile despite myself, "I'll take that." He doesn't answer. Instead, he lowers his sword slightly. Something changes. I feel it before I understand it. The mana around him is different. Until now, I have felt it moving through his body, strengthening his movements and giving every action a precision that I have been struggling to imitate.

Now it begins gathering around the sword itself. At first, I think he is simply reinforcing his grip. Then the blade starts to glow. Not brightly enough to blind me, nor with some dramatic burst of light, but with a thin, almost invisible layer of mana that settles along the length of the iron sword. The air around it seems to tighten, and when Elyrion shifts his grip, the weapon suddenly feels like something entirely different from the plain piece of iron he picked up only minutes ago.

I stare at it, "What did you just do?"

"Watch." He moves. I barely raise my sword in time. Our blades collide. The impact drives me backward. I recover and attack again, refusing to give him the space he wants, but the moment our swords meet for the second time, I feel something I have never felt through a weapon before. The mana surrounding his blade isn't simply strengthening the sword. It is becoming part of it. I pull away and look at my weapon. There is no damage. I tighten my grip. Elyrion advances and I meet him.

Our blades collide again, and this time the difference is unmistakable. His sword cuts through the contact instead of merely striking against mine, forcing my blade away with a pressure that feels completely different from physical strength. I step backward. He follows. I bring my sword up and block the next attack, but the moment the blades meet, I feel the iron beneath my hands vibrate. A crack appears along the edge. I stare at it for half a heartbeat. Then Elyrion strikes again.

I twist away and bring my sword around from the side, putting everything I have into the attack while pushing mana through my arms and shoulders. The blade comes down toward his chest, and Elyrion meets it with his own. The two swords lock. For one brief moment, neither of us moves. Then I hear the sound. A sharp metallic snap. The resistance disappears from my hands. I stumble forward as the upper half of my sword spins away and lands several paces behind Elyrion. I stop.

My gaze drops to the weapon still clutched in my hand. Half a sword remains. The other half lies in the grass. I stare at it, unable to make sense of what I am seeing. Elyrion lowers his blade. The mana surrounding it fades gradually until it becomes an ordinary iron sword once more.

"What..." My voice dies before I finish the question. Elyrion looks at the broken weapon in my hand.

"That is what happens when mana is properly applied to a weapon." I look at his sword, "That was mana?"

"Yes."

"You're telling me you cut through iron with mana."

"I cut through iron with a blade coated in mana." I look down at the broken sword again. The distinction feels rather meaningless at the moment.

"How?" Elyrion walks toward me and stops beside the broken blade lying in the grass.

"You've learned to reinforce your body with mana. A weapon can be treated the same way." I look at him, "Then why haven't you taught me that?"

"Because you weren't ready." I glance toward my broken sword, "I suppose I'm still not."

"No." He looks at the blade in his hand, "But now you know what you're working toward." I stare at the thin layer of mana that briefly gathers around his sword again before fading, "What's it called?" Elyrion meets my gaze, "Aurablade or the less common Manablade." The word settles into the clearing. I look down at the broken iron sword once more. Then at the weapon in his hand.

For the first time since I began training beneath the Silverwood, I understand just how wide the distance between where I stand and where Elyrion stands truly is. I pick up the broken half of my sword and look at the clean cut running through the iron. I can't help smiling.

"Then I suppose I have another lesson to learn." Elyrion sheathes his sword.

"You have many." I laugh quietly, "I was afraid you'd say that." The evening wind moves through the Silverwood above us, carrying the scent of earth and leaves across the clearing as I look once more at the broken blade in my hand. I had thought learning to use mana would make me stronger. I hadn't realized it would also show me how much stronger I could still become.