The more I practised the Forcefield formation, the greater my amazement grew at the formation engraved in the [Band of Protection]. Its defence was even stronger, almost impenetrable by anyone below the Fabled class. However, what was even more astounding was its essence efficiency compared to the Stormguard set.

My bracelet could run twice as long with the same essence supply. Well, having essence threads to do the heavy lifting did make the job easier; even still, there was something to learn from the long chains of micro runes embedded in the silver ornament.

Obviously, spellforging was still beyond me to actually put into practice. It was an alternative to essence weaving that demanded far greater Will to be effective. The mere requisite to even begin my practice was 25 points in Will.

Perhaps alternative was not the right term, looking at how the band operated. Instead of alternating between their functionality, both the runes and weaves complemented each other to boost its defence to a greater height.

While my mind was drowned in the exquisite formation, the entrance to the workshop opened, and Mum walked in.

"Before you say anything," I stammered as soon as she joined me, "I have complete confidence in delivering the set before the solstice."

Mum cocked her head, her eyes drifting to the wooden mannequin at our rear, where all the pieces of the Stormguard set were held.

"I believe you," she said, "but why haven't you even begun working on the forcefield yet?"

"That. . ." I paused.

Truly, I believed I could make the formation work. The question was how many tries it would take. Considering how draining and time-consuming the process was, I wanted to succeed at the very first attempt, which was why I was still studying it.

"I think you have had enough practice. Any more and you'll only be wasting your time."

I nodded. "I was thinking, if it is possible to make the rune formation as efficient as my bracelet."

"It is possible," Mum said, reclining on the chair. "But you know what it will require."

"An essence weave," I breathed.

Mum spun a rune-engraving pen on her fingers. "The rune formation is not inefficient, or rather, they are as efficient as they can be. The essence weave in your bracelet traps the kinetic release and reuses it to empower the forcefield."

"Then was it not possible to implement another formation that does the exact thing?"

"Your line of thinking isn't wrong," Mum said. "Many artisans lost their sleep over the problem for years, but ultimately, the solution came from the wearer, not the maker."

"What do you mean?"

"Auric Oscillation can mimic a similar effect to your bracelet," she said, leaning forward. "That reminds me, we almost forgot about implanting the blessed stone into the bracelet. It's barely a few minutes' work. Let's not delay it further."

Thinking about how many books and other items I could carry around, I obliged, removing the silver bracelet from my wrist.

"Is it possible to use the threads already woven inside it?" I asked, conflicted about her stripping more of her essence threads for me.

"It is," she said. Yet contrary to her words, she brought out a golden gauntlet piece from her storage and withdrew thirty-two essence threads from it. The entire process barely took a few seconds and rendered the exquisite piece of artefact a mere husk of its former state, its form twisting into mere scraps, the formation shattering. "While it is possible, let's not tinker with things that are already perfect."

She began her work. Instead of uniting the new feature to the item, she made a separate enchantment. The creation of a storage device was a rather simple process. It didn't prove to be difficult for her to embed the new functionality in complete isolation from the artifact.

I observed with enchanted eyes as she breezed through the entire process. What would have taken any other artisan hours of incessant work was finished in mere minutes with her Soulward activating. By the time Mum finished, the bracelet looked almost the same as before, save for the purple gem in the middle.

"The piece of blessed stone Prisca left was slightly larger," she said, scrutinising her work. "It has a little less than fourteen cubic metres of inner space." She held it for me to take. "Now, if you will bind it with your essence threads, before your Father goes completely insane about your training."

I sniffed, but did not go against her wish. Like her, I too wanted Father's crazy training to end. It hardly would have been a problem if he kept it all during the morning and afternoon sessions. But instead, he didn't even let me rest during meals, attacking sneakily. Worse, he seemed to have promised my friends something in return, as even they joined in this foolish endeavour.

Perhaps keeping me on the edge would help in the breakthrough, but I wouldn't want someone sneaking up on me while I was relaxing in the bath, or while I was drifting in the fictional world of a book.

It was only by confining myself inside the workshop that I found a few hours of respite.

"What kind of wager did you two make?" I couldn't help but ask, binding eight of my threads into the [Band of Protection].

"Complete the Stormguard set, and you'll find out."

The binding made the eight threads mostly obsolete for my use, but now I could utilise the forcefield more effectively, and even attack with it, not that a thrust of kinetic force would be highly effective.

Wait, did she just imply... I'll be a Journeyman Artisan once I complete the set?

If so, then Father had no chance of winning the wager, no matter what kind of insane practice he put me through.

Mum's smile was evidence enough.

***

Thankfully, the next practice in line was not aggravating. Well, nothing could be as aggravating compared to being ambushed all day long.

It was a perception training, where everyone threw pebbles at me. The training would have been so much easier if I had to dodge, no sense it was about reaching the state of Sword Sense, swordmanship needed to be involved.

So there was I, in the cold dawn of winter, being struck by little pebbles.

Deflecting one pebble at a time with my duelling cane was easy; two was possible, three was stretching it a little far. As for when more than four came at me from different directions. . . Well, let's just say I didn't perform too badly so long as the projectiles remained visible. The thick fog didn't help, but at least it was a bit easier during the afternoon session.

I must say those blighted stones stung terribly in the cold. I could, of course, utilise the forcefield to defend against them all, but that would defeat the purpose.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The wager was already decided, perhaps when they had decided on it. Yet I could only push myself harder to not disappoint Father. Honestly, I was fine with anything so long as he left me alone in my time of respite.

Delric was still improving swiftly. He hadn't yet comprehended the essence of the forms or most of the auric resonances, but he had the basic aura sword down. His sword could cleave through a tree if he put his all into it.

He even asked me to use my essence threads during our duels. Since they challenged his sword sense, it was worth pushing himself through it.

I looked towards Father for approval. To my surprise, he wasn't against it.

Our first duel ended, to no one's surprise, in my defeat. I didn't win, but it won 5 points, which was a huge improvement from the other day. In our next bouts, Delric began to find ways through the dozens of lines of attack. It wasn't so much about him dispatching them all, but ignoring them whenever he could, since a single essence thread couldn't pack the same punch that an elementary weave could.

I decided to give him a taste of that.

While Priam and Eran sparred on the sidelines, we kept on going at each other. I alternated between weaveless casting and elementary forms of wind whips, while also my sword forms worked in tandem to confuse Delric's sword sense.

He dispatched most of my attacks. Most, not all. There were simply too many for him to predict and follow through with his sword.

I broke through six points. Despite my opponent being three ahead, I pushed forward, utilising the wind whips as though they were swords. For Delric, it might have felt like he was battling four opponents simultaneously. Attacks rained on him from all directions, giving him no respite to collect his strategy.

While he was busy parrying those, I Hasted to his rear, sword falling in the form of Whispering Gale. Swiftly flaring his aura to push aside my wind whips, Delric blocked my sword.

I adopted Tidal Wave and feinted. Delric saw through it. He was prepared and twisted his cane to defend.

Then it happened. Then I saw it.

A line as thin as my essence thread emitted from the edge of his blade. It was transparent, like a long hair in the air, curving in its way, twisting about the arc of my sword to fall into my chest.

My blood surged in my veins, a current buzzing through them and spreading throughout my body. Instantly, I reversed my footing, sword twisting downwards, cutting through the transparent thread.

Delric was quick to adjust, as a new line of trajectory formed towards my lower body. I parried his sword again, confounding him. It didn't end there. No matter what he threw at me, I either evaded or defended.

Then, finally, a thread flew out from my sword.

It wasn't a thread transferring essence. No, unlike the essence threads, this one was entirely imaginary, and only existed in my mind, and my opponent's.

The thread showed the perfect move, a sweep towards Delric's left kneecap. If I followed through with it, Delric would be on his knees, incapable of any defence.

Yet the reality converged so very greatly to what my incipient sword sense could interpret.

Before my sword could land, Delric's line of sword swept over and clashed with my sword thread, which was soon followed by his cane neutralising my move.

A perfect parry.

Our eyes met for the briefest moment, and both of us became aware of what had occurred in that very instant.

It wasn't the first time I saw my sword thread, nor the first time I predicted my opponent's trajectory of attack, but it was the first time I utilised both of them together.

My excitement knew no bounds, so much so that I turned my head. "Father, I saw it!" I exclaimed. I saw it...

But there was no one to share my excitement. While I was busy in the duel, Father seemed to have left. I bit my lip, a sigh bristling through the gap of my teeth. The eagerness crumbled, as did the electrifying currents off my palms.

Father returned a few minutes later, with Uncle Dalin following in tow.

"Father," Eran called, wiping a line of sweat from his forehead.

"Working hard, eh, lads?"

"Did Father rope you into this, too, Uncle Dalin?" I asked.

The man scratched his nose. "Depends on what you're talking about," he chuckled. "It has been over half a decade since I touched a sword. Never been much good at it, anyway. The advice I can part is already covered by Lord Jinn. So treat me as a mere spectator, if you will."

My fight with Delric continued from where we left off. Unfortunately, my perception didn't return to the state of sword sense. Delric defeated me rather easily with a score of 12 to 8.

After a couple of minutes of rest, I changed my opponents to Priam and Eran, before returning to Delric again. Father and Uncle Dalin watched with a little exchange of words between them. Finally, Uncle Dalin stretched his limbs before taking a sword to give it some test swings. From slow forms, he grew swift. Even with a protruding belly, he was light on his feet. His forms were not impeccable, though not far from it.

Eran watched it all, stunned to even say anything.

"Care to give it a go, Uncle Dalin?" I asked with a grin.

Dalin Stonecutter cast a look and smiled. He gestured for me to join him, and as I took a stance, his own form mirrored mine.

"Don't bully this old man, or I won't have enough shame to show up anymore."

"Heh, you still have a good couple of decades, Uncle." I charged at him, the levitation boots at the third gear.

He evaded my first attack, ducking under it. I came again, swinging my cane fast and hard, but no matter how many times I attacked or where I attacked, he merely evaded.

Finally, after a couple of minutes of evasion, Uncle Dalin grew in confidence and made his move.

He was truly tentative—rusty, if I dare say—but he wasn't second-guessing once he made a move. His sword lacked the brutish style with which many of the militia men fought. As we sparred, his movements became swifter, more refined, and soon I discovered that—much like Instructor Delric—Dalin Stonecutter seemed able to see through my sword moves as well, and with far more proficiency.

"You are a True Swordsman!" I said between gasps, astounded.

"Looks like I haven't lost all my edge," said the man, gesturing with his duelling cane for me to come at him again.

Eran watched from the sidelines, his jaw slack as though he couldn't believe what he was seeing. He knew his father had trained under my father and had been a legionary officer during his time, but he couldn't have imagined him to be so skilled, and nor could I. After all, he had never interfered with Eran's practice, not even bothering to advise on how to swing a blade.

"You have good control over your forms," said the true swordsman, before breaking through my defence so thoroughly and utterly.

He wasn't much faster than Delric, always seeming to be a hair's length away from my sword point. I tried many times to stick the cane towards him, yet he always managed to keep his distance, before leading me on for more than half the length of the duel.

"Father, you are. . ." Eran crept closer, his expression conflicted between excitement and nervousness. There were too many questions in his eyes, questions he dared not ask.

Dalin Stonecutter turned his gaze to his son, a sigh escaping his lips. He stood leaning on the pommel of the duelling cane.

"Lord Jinn asked me to instruct you for a bit," he said. "Don't think I'll be any good at it, but here we are."

Later, I learned from Father that he didn't simply call Uncle Dalin to instruct me. Although a different perspective from another True Swordsman might help, there was a barrier between Eran and his father that needed to be broken. Although Uncle Dalin wasn't against Eran learning swordsmanship, he was conflicted about letting his son roam the treacherous world all alone, face the things he once fought, and put his life on the line.

Father intended to put both the father and son together and let them communicate through the very instrument that had created the contention in the very first place.

Somehow, it fell upon me to push them together, as Uncle Dalin was oblivious to Father's intention. Since he was summoned to be my instructor, Uncle Dalin focused on me mostly, while I did my best to push him towards Eran.

Watching him instruct Eran kind of reminded me of my early relationship with my own father.

I hoped, like the relationship between my father and me, they could work it out between them, that Uncle Dalin sees the hours Eran puts into materialising his dream. And instead of only worrying for him, he feels proud of his accomplishment.

In the morning session the very next day, I managed to defeat one of Father's colleagues from the militia—one of the weaker ones, an axe-wielder with a very predictable, brutish style. The man was as astounded as I was, though he didn't forget to boast that he merely used half of his strength.

[Way of Duelling V (250/250) is complete.]

[+8 Unallocated Points.]

[Way of Duelling VI (250/500) is now available.]

"How was it?" Father asked.

"I entered the state for a mere couple of exchanges before I was out."

Father nodded, his face expressionless for me to assume anything. These days, I had entered the state more times that it wasn't such an elusive thing anymore. I simply had to work under the constraint of an opponent who wasn't completely impossible for me to defeat, and I needed to be excited about the fight.

That didn't mean I was a True Swordsman already. No, I still couldn't control the state like Father could, or even like Delric, who was still missing a key understanding to reach the state fully. It might take him a single spar of moment to find it, or years. It was truly unpredictable to measure the ethereal state.

"You're improvising adequately," Father finally said. He scratched his shaven chin, considering me. "Perhaps it is time to move on to the next phase."

"Which is?"

"Sparring with real weapons."

I blinked.

"Your Mum will kill me if you get hurt, though," Father said, with a genuine look of horror on his face.

"She wouldn't have to know, would she?" I replied, grinning as I brought out the new sabre from storage.

Of course, simply holding a real sword wasn't enough. I'd have to face someone actually wielding one, feel the danger that came with it, and break through it. Maybe the idea wouldn't work. Maybe Mum would find out and give me an earful. No, there was no maybe—she always finds out, somehow.

But I wouldn't know if I didn't try.

With the resolve in my heart, I disabled the [Band of Protection] and faced towards Delric, the long sabre in hand.

___________

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