The stretching exercises helped Osirs's body feel lighter and more relaxed, calming his nerves just a bit. But even as his body eased, his excitement over the God of Light's challenge and his potential improvement in swordsmanship burned brightly within him.
A smile remained fixed on his face, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. His classmates exchanged puzzled glances, wondering what had him so fired up.
Unbeknownst to them, their teacher noticed Osirs's focused energy as well. He nodded approvingly, satisfied with the boy's apparent dedication.
After everyone had finished stretching and practiced their stances once to reinforce their muscle memory, the teacher finally spoke.
"Alright, kids, now that your bodies are stretched and you've refreshed your stances, it's time for the sparring matches." His voice was steady and clear, cutting through the morning air.
"Since there are eleven of you, one person will need to fight twice. I'll decide who that is for the final match. Until then, give it your best."
With that, the teacher called out the first pair of names, and the sparring matches began.
Osirs remained seated on the ground, his eyes glued to the fights before him. He wasn't watching for entertainment,he was analyzing every movement. Every swing, every parry, every misstep.
As the matches continued, he began to notice patterns and mistakes. The slight overextensions. The lack of proper footwork. The hesitation before a strike.
Only three matches in, and Osirs was already pinpointing errors in his own training. He mentally noted how he would adjust his stances and strikes, making plans to improve.
But the deeper he fell into his thoughts, the more everything around him faded away.
He no longer heard the clashing of wooden swords or the teacher's instructions. He was completely immersed in the flow of swordsmanship, his mind eagerly dissecting each movement for flaws and strengths.
It was like the world around him ceased to exist, leaving only him and the path of the sword.
But now, it was his turn to fight.
Lost in his thoughts, Osirs didn't react when his name was called. He just stood there, looking like he was in a daze or perhaps asleep with his eyes open.
The classmate nearest to him frowned, then got up and shook him by the shoulder, jolting him out of his trance.
"Huh?" Osirs blinked, snapping back to reality. "What is it?"
The other boy gave him an annoyed look. But before he could say anything, the teacher's voice cut through the air.
"Osirs! You're up. Get to the center."
"Ah, right." Osirs nodded, brushing the dust from his robe as he stood. He walked over to the center of the training ground, where his opponent was already waiting.
His opponent was Forxes,a boy Osirs knew well.
Actually, they all knew each other. Growing up together in a small village, it was impossible not to. But Osirs had always been a bit of an outsider.
He wasn't disliked. No one hated him. But his quiet, reserved nature and tendency to keep to himself made others hesitate to approach him. Conversations were short, greetings were polite but distant.
Osirs didn't mind. As long as he had his peace of mind and could enjoy the serenity of nature without being disturbed, he was content.
He took a wooden sword from the pile of practice weapons, giving it a few experimental swings to get a feel for the weight. Satisfied, he nodded to himself.
Then, his gaze turned to Forxes.
Forxes was... unique. While most Averze had black hair and dark eyes, Forxes had pure white hair—a trait he had inherited from his mother. His eyes, however, were jet black, making the contrast even more striking.
Forxes stood ready, his stance solid, eyes narrowed with focus.
Seeing that both boys were prepared, the teacher nodded and spoke with a clear, firm voice.
"Begin!"
With the teacher's signal, both Osirs and Forxes dashed at each other, wooden swords clashing with sharp, echoing thuds.
They exchanged strikes rapidly, each testing the other's defenses, searching for weaknesses.
Forxes was known throughout their class for being both strong and fast. His attacks were relentless, his footwork quick and precise.
But Osirs had improved.
While his footwork was still lacking, his swordsmanship had grown sharper, more refined. His strikes were fluid, his movements far more flexible than they had been before. It was enough to put him on equal footing with Forxes.
Yet, it wasn't enough to win.
"What should I do to win?" Osirs asked himself, his mind racing as he kept his eyes locked on Forxes.
His gaze sharpened like a hawk's, focused entirely on his opponent. He observed everything,every twitch, every shift of weight, even the subtle flickers of Forxes' eyes.
Nothing escaped his attention.
His own eyes began to gleam with a wild intensity,an almost maddening focus. Even the teacher noticed, his brows raising in surprise.
He hadn't expected Osirs to take the sparring match this seriously. It was as if the boy were fighting for his life.
One slash. Two slashes. Three.
They traded blows again and again, neither managing to break through the other's guard.
Osirs gritted his teeth, frustration building as each attempt to overpower Forxes failed.
"There has to be a way…"
And then, an idea struck him.
"An open defense doesn't mean a perfect defense."
He remembered the words from his training, and an instinctive grin formed on his face.
"If I can't break through his defense… I'll force him to break it for me."
Osirs adjusted his stance, intentionally leaving his left side slightly exposed a deliberate opening.
It was subtle, but obvious enough for Forxes to notice.
Forxes' eyes narrowed. He saw the opening and lunged forward, his wooden sword thrusting directly toward Osirs' exposed left side.
Osirs smiled.
As Forxes committed to the strike, Osirs swung his own sword,not defensively, but offensively.
With his right arm, he aimed a fierce strike directly at Forxes' neck.
There was no hesitation. No mercy.
Forxes' instincts flared. His body reacted before his mind could even process the danger.
He pulled back, halting his attack and jerking his sword away to avoid the blow to his neck.
But in that desperate retreat… he left himself completely exposed.
A massive opening.
Like a wild beast driven only by instinct, Osirs swung his sword at Forxes' chest,no technique, no finesse, just raw determination.
"Stop!" The teacher's voice thundered across the training ground, startling both Osirs and Forxes.
The sudden command snapped them out of their battle frenzy.
"Osirs wins this match. Both of you, return to your spots."
"Yes, sir," they replied in unison, still shaken from the abrupt ending. They returned to their places on the ground, sitting among their classmates.
The next fight began, with the others sparring and clashing, but Osirs hardly paid attention. His mind was too caught up in replaying his own match.
He kept going over every detail of the fight, analyzing each mistake, searching for ways to improve.
Lost in thought, his gaze drifted blankly into the air, his eyes unfocused.
"Hey! Osirs! Wake up!" A classmate nudged his shoulder, pulling him from his daze.
"Uh… sorry," Osirs mumbled, blinking as he forced himself back to reality.
Eventually, all the matches concluded.
The teacher gathered the group and began to lecture them about the way of the sword, the code of a swordsman, and various ideals about discipline and honor.
But Osirs barely listened.
His thoughts kept drifting back to his battle with Forxes, replaying the clash over and over in his mind.
What had he done wrong? What could he do better? How could he improve faster?
It wasn't that he disrespected the teacher's words, but the drive within him to grow stronger drowned out everything else.
Finally, the lecture ended. The teacher instructed them to continue training on their own and then left the training ground.
The students spread out, some practicing their stances, others sparring with each other.
Osirs remained seated, his mind still deep in reflection, when a friendly voice snapped him back to reality.
"Hey, Osirs! You've been daydreaming a lot today."
Osirs glanced up and saw a familiar face smiling down at him.
As Osirs heard her voice, he looked up and recognized her.
It was Crystal. She had sharp, long ears, beautiful blue eyes, and flowing black hair that cascaded over her shoulders.
Seeing her standing there, a warm smile on her face, he couldn't help but feel a bit embarrassed.
"Ah, Crystal. Sorry to make you worry about me. It's just… there are a few things on my mind that I keep thinking about."
Surprised by his honesty, her eyes lit up with curiosity.
"What are you thinking about?" she asked, her voice tinged with excitement.
"Oh…" Osirs hesitated, taken aback by her enthusiasm. But then he smiled. "Well, I've been thinking about how I can improve my swordsmanship. Somehow… I really enjoy it. I want to learn more and get better."
Crystal's eyes widened in genuine surprise. Osirs was known for being laid back, never one to push himself too hard. He was only here because he was better than the average young Averze, not because of any real passion.
But now, seeing the determination shining in his eyes…
A smile spread across her lips.
"Congratulations, Osirs. For finding your passion."
"Passion?" he repeated, his voice soft. The word rolled around in his mind before he chuckled and nodded. "Yeah… passion. I think I finally found it."
As the realization sank in, he silently whispered a thank you to the one who set him on this path.
"Thank you, God of Light, for allowing me to find this passion."
And far above, in the solitude of his God Domain, Oberon's eyes widened as his Faith Points suddenly skyrocketed.
[Faith Points: 140]
From 90 to 140.
A massive jump of 50 Faith Points in an instant.
Oberon couldn't help but grin as he watched Osirs and Crystal talking.
"Haha! This kid's faith is stronger than I thought. Passion, huh? So that's what drove him."
Feeling energized by the sudden influx of Faith Points, Oberon chuckled to himself.
"With all these new Faith Points… I can finally afford a few things."
He rubbed his hands together, his eyes gleaming with excitement.
"Alright… let's go on a shopping spree in the Faith Store!"