The Firstlings

Aaron shifted slightly, causing Foster’s mad swing to pass by harmlessly. He dashed in, kicking the arm upward. Foster spun, swinging his other meaty fist almost too fast for Aaron to see.

He smiled wide in exhilaration, already expecting the move. Dropping low, he danced on nimble fingers, spinning and kicking at Foster's feet. The big guy laughed with the thrill of the fight and stomped down to intercept the kick.

But his kick was a feint. Pulling the leg short, he tucked and rolled to the side. Dirt flew into the air as he jumped high with a wide grin. He punched forward, striking Foster in the temple in quick succession, causing his head to lurch sideways. Aaron was caught off guard, however, when a boulder side fist struck his side, sending him reeling. He grunted as he bounced across the ground, skidding to a stop.

He looked up wide-eyed at the terror fast approaching.

Foster rushed in with a roar. His massive frame seemed to grow, and Aaron swore he could feel the ground rumbling with his steps. Refusing to back down, he rushed in to meet the charge head-on.

He dashed low to the ground, scraping his hands in the dirt as he ran. As soon as they were about to clash, he threw his hands forward, striking upward in an X-pattern, throwing dirt and grass into the big guy's face.

Foster almost choked, caught completely off guard, blinking and sputtering. Aaron rushed to the side and jumped forward, kicking him in the ribs. Foster growled, spinning to minimize the impact, and lashed out in response. Aaron blocked the punch with a grunt as he kicked his leg at Foster's head.

His eyes went wide as Foster’s meaty paws grabbed his leg tight. The strength in that grasp sent shivers down his spine as the world became a blur. Foster roared in glee, spinning him in the air and slamming him into the ground.

Aaron grunted as his breath tore from his lungs. He almost fainted but gritted through the pain as the world danced around him. Still reeling, trying to hold on to consciousness, he heard a rolling laughter echo through the clearing.

“Much better, kid!” Foster roared excitedly, “It hasn’t been long, and you’ve already brought your foundation to such a level.”

“…” Aaron still couldn’t catch his breath, so he grunted in response.

Foster patted him on the shoulder as he helped him from the ground. They had been sparring, off and on, over the last week, and Aaron had been gaining ground, but he still wasn't able to beat the big guy. Sighing in frustration as Foster helped him rise, he faced him sheepishly.

“You’re an unstoppable terror, you know that, right?” Aaron grumbled at yet another loss.

Foster’s joyous laughter spread even further, “Don’t take it to heart, kid. The fact that you can even last as long as you did is a testament to the work you’ve put in.”

“I’ve had years to hone my skills, and I have my size that can work in my favor,” he smiled wide, as he patted Aaron’s shoulder, which made him even more terrifying if not for the warmth in his eyes.

“Thanks,” Aaron smiled back. The guy’s joyfulness was infectious, and it was hard to stay mad around him, “So... what did you think?”

“A little cheap, but using your environment is the making of any warrior.” Foster chuckled. “Are you ready for the sword?”

Aaron perked up excitedly. “The greatest words of my life!”

Foster walked to the side of the clearing and brought out a bundle, slowly unwrapping it. Aaron’s heart raced as the wrapping fell away, then dropped like a stone at the two wooden swords Foster placed in front of him.

“We're fighting with sticks!” He groaned.

“You need to learn to swing a weapon,” Foster declared with a stern look, as he handed him one of the wooden swords. “Anyone can swing a stick, but it takes skill to handle a blade.”

Aaron grabbed the practice sword with a sour look on his face. It turned to excitement, however, when he swung the weapon and felt its weight and quality. The wooden sword was a work of art, and it felt amazing to swing. He laughed like a kid with a new toy, running around and swinging it in a mock battle.

“Are you done?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Aaron snapped to attention, feeling rather silly, with a look of embarrassment. He had always used a dagger, so the thrill of swinging a sword was new to him. ‘Swords were amazing!’

“Alright, take your stance, and I’ll walk you through the basics.”

Foster proceeded to show him how to swing a sword properly and how to defend against incoming attacks. He gave pointers as they went through the motions, back and forth, the sound of their weapons striking and sending echoes through the clearing.

Aaron couldn’t stop his excitement from building as Foster showed him the small details and intricacies of using a sword. He was fascinated and concentrated on every word the big guy said, amazed at how complicated using a weapon was.

Foster showed him a proper stance and how to utilize the weight of a weapon more effectively, warning him that actual swords would require adjustments. He told him to practice his swings daily and that only after 10,000 days would he be anywhere close to the beginning stage of Sword Mastery.

He called the training to an end as Aaron rubbed his numb hands. They had been at it for hours, and he couldn’t believe the amount of stress the weapon put on his arms after swinging and defending for so long.

Foster turned to leave, heading back to the City, but left the training swords, stressing him to practice daily between their sparring. Aaron agreed and thanked him, turning to head back to camp. As he walked, he saw his siblings training with the Rangers, using their famed longbows.

Everyone had been shocked at how accurate his siblings were. Their nimble fingers and keen eyes seemed to be built for the bow, causing their accuracy to be frightening. Well, all of them except for Aaron. He almost strangled himself just trying to string the damn thing.

‘Yeah, definitely a sword kind of guy,’ he chuckled.

He made it to his tent, which was his new temporary home, groaning at his broken body. The day was long, and learning so much at once had made his brain foggy. He jumped into his pile of blankets and was asleep before he landed.

Waking up in the early morning hours, he almost cried in pain at how stiff his body was. Growling through it, he stood up and began working his sore muscles and stretching the stiffness from his limbs. He had already decided to make a daily routine of sword practice to brighten the morning.

Feeling the chill from the morning air, he left the tent with steps of anticipation. Walking back to the clearing where they usually train, he took up his stance with the practice sword in hand. Closing his eyes and taking steady breaths, he swung the mock blade.

A straight overhead slash.

One after the other.

He concentrated on each swing, controlling every muscle with determination. Every slice was a swing from the heart, true and full of intent. He could hear the wail from the weapon as it cut through the air, almost sounding like a howl from a wild animal. He smiled wide at the thought of the sword’s howling strike.

The sound of judgment.

The Final Strike.

He continued swinging the sword, on the cusp of understanding a greater meaning. A truth that was right at the edge of his vision, always there but unseen, waiting for him to discover it. His body began to protest, but he continued, lost in the howl of the falling weapon.

He swung the sword as the sun rose high and fell as darkness took hold. He kept going, still feeling a sense of something greater. His body was roaring for him to stop as his legs trembled from fatigue and his arms began to lose strength, but he refused.

Just as he began to falter, he felt power rise through him and into his strike. He watched as a blade of force tore into the forest, even after his blade had fallen. As he tried to understand what happened, a shout next to him snapped him back to reality.

“Aaron?”

“...” Aaron couldn’t focus. His body was about to collapse as Runes danced in his vision. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as he fell back, passing out as he hit the ground.

[New Skill Available ]

Deadly Strike

“You have performed over 10,000 swings of a True Strike.”

“Truth brings Judgement.”

Foster stood over Aaron, shaking his head. “Crazy kids!”

“He’s been there for three days,” one of the rangers spoke. There was a small group gathered to watch Aaron as he trained. They all saw him relentlessly swinging his sword as the days passed, showing no signs of stopping.

“Lucky, he didn’t kill himself,” Foster growled as they picked him up and carried him back to his tent.