Supreme Swordfiend

Layla showed no indication that she held a grudge over the threats and accusations Leon had levelled against her- he still felt he should apologise.

“Sorry. For all the bullshit. You didn’t sign up to deal with me being a dick to you.”

She paused mid-swing.

“Not like you can really help it. Besides, dealing with you is a small price to pay for my Master. Now- back to the task at hand, apprentice!”

Leon did not gain his Job that day.

Nor did he gain it in the six days that followed his humbling.

He deferred selecting another Class, determined first that he’d get a Job, then he’d complete all his Status related updates in one fell swoop.

A comfortable routine emerged while he worked.

Every morning he’d re-stock the food table and spar with Bethany and Kong Xia.

The two sword-wielders learned to rise alongside Leon, the three of them keeping their skills sharp together in the morning’s light.

Bethany exhibited the most improvement. The two superior swordsmen forced her to her limits every day, her style refined further under both their tutelages.

The noble swordsman drilled down on the fundamentals of swordsmanship, his spars with Leon often lasting only a handful of moves before the man bowed out, having gained some measure of enlightenment from the exchange.

Leon simply enjoyed the challenge of learning to wield a greatsword against a human foe. Things the others had to focus on like footwork and posture came naturally to Leon, his body shifting as soon as he noticed any one position feeling wrong.

The handicap kept his ego in check, his more arrogant persona failing to emerge again. With the seal removed, he found his bloodline, paradoxically, easier to corral. Since it was now part of him, with no barrier blocking them off, the second set of instincts was far more pliable and willing to listen to reason.

Once his morning spars concluded, Leon would then grab William for breakfast, his lieutenant keeping him in the loop for any goings on.

After a week, the pair had ironed out any interpersonal kinks between members; Leon found his trust well-placed in the younger man.

He had a knack for working a group, playing up his young age to ingratiate himself with everyone.

They’d avoided factions forming through William’s careful dealings and the collective fear that Leon would intervene if things got out of hand.

A fear William fanned, citing Leon’s warnings he’d issued to Mikael and Erica on the first day they’d all been together.

People mostly kept to themselves working on training their skills- they all knew that in a month they’d be out of the Tutorial- but they still built friendships.

People paired off to practice, trading blows to further their combat styles. The more magically inclined collaborated closely, sharing their knowledge of the arcane. People followed Leon’s example- rarely did the Swordfiend stop working and never would he deny anyone’s request to speak or spar with him. Peer pressure settled over the group, compelling the others to work just as hard and as closely to each other as their leader.

Fred’s poor example also informed their behaviour. Occasionally, he would be seen stealing into camp, lifting a day’s worth of food and leaving again.

No one spoke to him and after the first attempt the archer tried to open dialogue ended in being told by Angela to leave before Leon spotted him, the message had been made clear.

Persona non grata, excommunicated.

William made sure that stayed enforced.

While they didn’t have clocks or even sundials, Leon made sure William knew when he would be least busy, the times when anyone with an issue could seek him out during the day. He kept that time slot to late afternoon, during his personal training time.

He’d sparred only once with William during these past days and found the man woefully unprepared to fight up close. Leon had batted the knives away and nearly ran William through, the mage-warrior hybrid veering closer to a gimmick mage than a true hybrid.

Tasking him with learning to fight from anyone who’d teach him, Leon awaited the results of his training eagerly. His potential once he truly learned to wield his weapons excited Leon.

Then came Leon’s least favourite part of the day.

Forging.

Layla’s critiques of his form never truly stopped, only diminished as the days continued.

Each new arming sword looked better in Leon’s eyes.

None passed Layla’s more discerning pair.

He grew comfortable with failure after a period, each failed sword teaching Leon more.

His intent, his form and his mana could not waver while forging, or the result would come out wrong.

Forming his intent had to be done before the first swing.

The stronger the mental image of his desired result, the better.

A single missed swing ruined the entire work, intent and action misaligned.

Without properly suffusing his hammer with mana, soaking the iron mallet with his magical essence, the result would come out skewed and wrong.

When all three harmonised, he came closest, and even then he felt he was missing something.

Late in the afternoon, he would stop forging for the day, returning to train again.

This training he did alone, though he welcomed anyone to join him. The katar wielder, Guillaume often did.

A Daggerfist, Uncommon Class. Shaved head, bulging muscles. A serious man, ex-military was Leon’s guess, though Guillaume never clarified. He adhered well to routine, often looking to Leon for instruction. The man fought with devilish speed, quick to slide a pointed blade in, his short range only making him more deadly.

A fun opponent to spar with, Leon’s comparatively massive range led to interesting fights.

On days when Guillaume found himself occupied, helping Pierre with the High Druid’s latest attempt to locate or grow any illicit herbs- Zerasos had refused to supply Leon with any when he’d inquired- Leon ran the gamut, taking on all comers and doing his best to critique any weaknesses he saw in their fighting styles.

Come evening, he would take his dinner at the table, catching up with William again. Many of the others would take their own meals alongside Leon, often arranging their plans for tomorrow before heading off to sleep.

Leon’s last hours awake saw him restoring any spent mana while meditating.

He’d taken up meditation to centre his mental state and ensure his ego and arrogance were well in hand.

He couldn’t remember who it had been, but someone had wandered down the beach and found a cliff overlooking the ocean. Leon used this as his meditation grounds, the gentle sounds of the ocean guiding him to tranquillity.

Minutes would pass, Leon remembering the fights, the gore. The pounding of his heart in his ears, that electric tingle that shot up his spine when the light in the enemy’s eyes died.

His sword hand itched, though he endured, sinking deeper into his mind until the thoughts ceased, until he floated on an endless ocean.

Sometimes he felt on the verge of understanding a truth while in this state, one he knew would deepen his insights, but the moment would always pass him when he tried to focus on it.

The seventh day followed this routine until it came time to forge.

Struck by inspiration, Leon formed his intent.

An arming sword. Sharp, normal and reliable.

Next, he marshalled his mana, firming his form.

Then, he sank into meditation, swinging his hammer while holding the image of the arming sword in his head.

Other images threatened to intrude, Leon casting them off as they appeared, his mind honed to a razor-sharp focus while being utterly relaxed.

Keeping all these aspects harmonised stretched his willpower to its limits, yet he knew the result would be worthy of the strain he endured.

The pop-up proved him correct.

“‘Ol Reliable- An arming sword forged by a smith aspirant, born from the desire to wield a normal sword. Bears a Self-Repair enchantment. Amateur forging methods have resulted in a weapon that will slowly lose its enchantment as it takes damage.”

Dropping his hammer to the ground, Leon wiped the sweat from his brow while looking at his first proper sword. A near-perfect replica of the arming sword he’d wielded at the beginning of the Tutorial.

“Hey, check it out! I finally did it right!”

Plucking it from his anvil, Layla nodded, a spark of appreciation visible behind her goggles.

“Don’t get a swollen head apprentice- remember, this is cheating. Only the worst of the worst forge like this, using only pure mana and materials. Proper forging requires much more than simply banging on a lump of metal. Why didn’t you ever soak the metal in your energy? You learned that little trick first for a reason you know.”

The answer seemed obvious now that she’d spelt it out.

“Never crossed my mind.”

“Think more then, foolish apprentice! Master once said everything wishes to transform. Even the humblest pebble dreams of becoming the largest boulder and the smallest droplet desires to join with the mighty river. That is the essence of craftsmanship, to understand the world’s desires and shape it in accordance.”

‘Ol Reliable vanished from his mentor’s hands.

“Thank you for the lesson master. Can I have my sword back?”

“I don’t know apprentice. Can you?”

Through grit teeth he replied.

“May I. May I have my sword back master?”

“No. Now, bring out that core you used previously.”

Grumbling about unreasonable teachers, Leon dug through his storage ring, pulling out the Woods Tyrant’s core.

“Will you tell me what I’m doing this time? I can’t exactly get another one of these.”

“Smith the core. You already know how to discern intent. Do so and hold one image in your head. Then repeat the process you used for the sword. Simplicity itself.”

Layla returned to her own project, leaving Leon to make a choice.

The greatsword or the scimitars?

Well, he already had a greatsword, so scimitars it was then.

Running his hand along his sword’s edge, Leon opened up a wound on his palm, sinking into the vision again.

Once shown the scimitars, he latched onto the idea, engraving it in his mind.

Placing the core down, he repeated the process, finding the image easier to hold in his mind, the core staying immovable beneath his hammer.

Slowly, the two blades took shape, every strike making them more real, the process taking far longer than the first time.

Leon’s mana and willpower ran on empty, as minutes became hours. The swordsman focused on the feelings, the intent.

The Woods Tyrant had not been a lesser drake- its bloodline, Leon remembered, was that of a [Manabeast].

An artificial being, one designed to serve only as a stepping stone for others.

He’d felt its emotions in the lingering intent that remained in its core.

Hatred at the hand dealt to it.

Leon empathised.

The beast had been born a slave, never allowed to choose for itself.

In his hands, these scimitars would face the same restriction, always moving based on another’s will, never given a choice in who or what they would cut.

The difference being the tyrant chose this- to serve the victor of their bout, to honour the fight between man and beast.

Leon would honour the dead in his own way- he would create a new style, one specifically for these swords. A proper style that he could truly call his own, one formed with intent, not out of necessity.

Silent and Scream crystallised as Leon made his vow, the swordsman soaked head to toe in sweat, his arm aching and his head pounding.

“Silent and Scream- Formed from the core of the Woods Tyrant, a Unique being only found within the Proving Grounds Tutorial. Both blades bear Self-Repair and Corrosive Venom enchantments. The white blade carries Bloodshimmer, an enchantment that obscures the body of the weapon when soaked in blood. The carmine blade carries Bloodburn, the blade igniting upon contact with blood. Far beyond the level of a novice smith, the resonance of intent between man and core produced a weapon beyond the quality of the material, at the cost of the weapons becoming soul bound; should any but their forger lay hands upon them, the weapons will dull, their enchantments becoming inert until in the hands of their craftsman once more.”

“Skill threshold reached- Job selection now available.”

Layla didn’t hide her appreciation this time, clapping Leon on the back.

“Well done, apprentice. Forging an acceptable weapon so soon- perhaps you have some talent. You’re still cheating though. You’ll qualify for the Job that Master wanted you to take- go on, check your Status.”