"Fuck, that was not meant to happen," Ezra muttered under his breath.
Realizing he'd messed up, Ezra scrambled to his feet and dashed after his teacher, who was whistling casually as if nothing had happened.
"Hey, wait!" Ezra called out, but the teacher didn't even glance back. He kept walking with that carefree attitude.
"I'm sorry," Ezra shouted again, this time more earnestly.
Still no response.
"Hey, I'm really sorry! I'll be patient, okay?" he pleaded.
That finally made the teacher stop. He turned around with a sly smirk on his face, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as if weighing something important.
"Hmmm," the teacher mused, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. "Only if you bow down and say, 'I'm the greatest general to ever exist. The most handsome prince in the world, whose beauty matches no other.' Then, maybe I'll accept your apology."
Ezra blinked, a mixture of disbelief and frustration crossing his face. He crossed his arms, standing tall. "I'm not saying that."
The teacher raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Well, you can always freeze in the waterfall again. Your choice."
Ezra's face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and annoyance, but he realized the teacher was still waiting for a response.
"Fine," Ezra said begrudgingly, rolling his eyes. "You're the greatest general to ever exist, the most handsome prince in the world, whose beauty matches no other."
The teacher smiled smugly, clearly satisfied. "There, that wasn't so hard, was it?"
Ezra bit back a retort, though the words burned on the tip of his tongue. "Happy now?"
"Very," the teacher said, grinning broadly.
"Now, let's get back to training. And remember: patience, my young disciple. It's the key to everything." He continued walking, his whistling light and carefree once more.
Ezra shook his head, following reluctantly, realizing this was going to be a lot more frustrating than he had imagined.
" Next my dear young disciple " he continued before fishing out a dagger from his robe, throwing it to Ezra . " Try to attack me and do your best "
Ezra stared at the dagger in his hand, feeling the weight of it but unsure of how to proceed. His teacher stood there, eyes glinting with mischief, clearly enjoying the situation. The moment dragged on, tension building as Ezra tried to make sense of what was happening.
"Try to attack me. Do your best," the teacher repeated, his voice steady and full of anticipation.
Ezra glanced up, a little frustrated. "And you? What will you use?" he asked, eyes narrowing as he tried to gauge his teacher's next move.
The teacher grinned widely, a wicked gleam in his eye. "Ah, are you worried about me?" he teased, leaning in slightly, clearly enjoying the discomfort he was causing.
Ezra scowled. "No," he replied firmly, trying to shake off his unease. "Just… what's the point of all this?"
"Just attack me. Try to make me bleed," the teacher said, his voice cool, his stance relaxed. He was completely confident, and that made Ezra even more wary.
Ezra took a breath, focusing his mind. He wasn't going to back down. With a swift motion, he lunged forward, dagger aimed at his teacher's side.
But just as quickly as he moved, the teacher stepped aside, fluid and unhurried, dodging the strike with ease. It was like a game to him.
"You'll have to do better than that, my dear disciple," the teacher said with a smirk, his voice dripping with mock amusement. "Is that all you've got?"
Ezra gritted his teeth, frustrated by how easily he was being outmaneuvered. He lunged again, this time aiming for the teacher's throat, but once again, his teacher dodged, barely moving an inch, like he knew exactly where the attack was coming from before Ezra even decided on it.
"Again," the teacher urged, his grin widening. "You'll need more than just basic moves if you want to land a hit."
Ezra took a deep breath, eyes narrowing as he studied his teacher's every movement.
There was something off, something about the way his teacher dodged each attack with almost eerie precision. The way his body shifted, his posture never changing, always ready to avoid the strike before it even fully reached him.
The teacher's messy hair covered most of his eyes, but he never seemed to struggle with seeing or reacting. It was as if he knew where Ezra's strike was going before he even made it. 'How is that possible?'
Ezra's mind raced, trying to make sense of it all.
'Is it instinct? Or does he somehow sense my movements?'
The teacher yawned, stretching leisurely, as if completely unconcerned by the fact that Ezra was trying to strike him. His calm demeanor only added to the frustration building within Ezra.
Now's a perfect chance.
Ezra saw the opening—a brief moment when the teacher's attention was momentarily diverted. Without hesitation, he lunged forward again, his dagger aimed at the teacher's chest, this time faster, more precise, determined to land a blow.
But just as quickly, his teacher moved. It was almost too fast to follow. The teacher sidestepped with a fluid, effortless motion, his hand coming up to grab Ezra's wrist just before the dagger made contact.
Ezra froze, feeling the pressure of the teacher's grip. There was no way he could break free—it was like the teacher's hand had turned to steel.
"Well, well," the teacher said, his voice low and amused. "You're getting a little better. But you're still too predictable." He released Ezra's wrist, letting him step back. "You see, it's not about strength or speed, kid. It's about knowing—knowing where your opponent's going, knowing what they're going to do before they do it. You can't just react. You've got to feel it."
Ezra stood there, frustrated but also intrigued. "You're saying you can feel what I'm going to do?" he asked, his voice edged with disbelief.
The teacher chuckled, raising a hand dismissively. "Eh, not me, my brilliant and untalented disciple. I was blessed with exceptional eyesight from birth, courtesy of my dear parents—may their souls continue to rot in peace," he added with a smirk, as though it was a casual remark.
Ezra stood there, dumbfounded by the teacher's nonchalant response. "So, you're teaching me something that you yourself don't even follow?" he asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice.
The teacher gave a casual shrug, his smirk widening. "Hmm, I suppose so. Correct. Now, this is getting boring. Let me spice things up a little bit."
Without missing a beat, he beckoned Ezra forward, his stance shifting into a defensive pose. "Do your best—or should I say, do your absolute worst, little one."