Three days passed.
Kael didn't accept another mission.
From sunrise until dusk...
His days were spent training.
Every morning began the same.
A wooden practice sword.
A quiet courtyard.
The same movement...
Repeated over and over again.
Swing.
Step.
Recover.
Again.
Again.
Again.
At first...
It was frustrating.
His body constantly found itself slipping back into the instinctive style he had always relied on in battle.
His stance shifted without him noticing.
His swings became unpredictable.
Effective in a real fight...
But impossible to refine.
Each time...
He forced himself to start over.
By the fourth day...
The unnecessary movements had begun to disappear.
His feet no longer crossed when he stepped.
His balance remained steady after every swing.
His breathing gradually matched the rhythm of his attacks.
It wasn't exciting.
It wasn't flashy.
But it was progress.
...
One afternoon...
Kael sat beneath the shade of a tree, flipping through the worn sword manual.
His eyes stopped on a single sentence.
"A technique is not a powerful attack.
It is a movement repeated until the body no longer needs to think."
Kael closed the book.
"...Repeated until the body no longer needs to think."
He stood.
His gaze fell to the sword in his hand.
A normal slash...
Always came to a stop.
Every attack ended with a brief opening.
He frowned.
"...What if it didn't?"
Taking a deep breath, he swung.
Shhk!
Instead of stopping the blade...
He allowed the momentum to carry it forward.
Twisting his wrist, he redirected the sword into another slash.
The movement was clumsy.
The second strike lacked power.
"...Again."
Shhk!
The first slash flowed into the second.
Still awkward.
Again.
Again.
Again.
The afternoon slipped by unnoticed.
His clothes were soaked with sweat.
His arms burned from exhaustion.
Yet he refused to stop.
With every attempt...
The transition became smoother.
The second slash became faster.
Not because he swung harder...
But because he no longer wasted the momentum of the first attack.
Hours later...
Kael finally stopped.
His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths.
He looked at the sword in his hand before a faint smile appeared on his face.
"...Ripple Slash."
The name came naturally.
It wasn't complete.
Not yet.
The second slash was still slower than the first.
Against a skilled opponent...
It would leave too many openings.
But for the first time...
Kael wasn't merely copying a technique from a book.
He was making it his own.
As the evening sun dipped below the horizon, he sheathed his sword.
Tomorrow...
He would test Ripple Slash in real combat.
Only then would he know whether it was worthy of becoming his first true technique.
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