"Why is it so hard?" Cassian muttered in frustration, swinging his sword in smooth, curving arcs. Each motion sent waves of green light slashing toward a distant tree. The force of the attack tore into the bark, not cutting cleanly but ripping it apart in jagged chunks as the glowing arcs made contact.
Yet, only half the bark was destroyed. The other half remained intact, leaving the tree standing tall. Cassian's heavy breaths betrayed his disappointment. It wasn't that he lacked the power to fell the tree in a single strike—his Domain was more than capable of such a feat. But here, he was relying solely on his sword technique, deliberately refraining from using his Domain. The result only emphasized his struggle: he couldn't wield his technique with the same precision or mastery as when his Domain was fully active.
Cassian lowered his sword, his eyes narrowing at the stubborn tree. His grip tightened, and he exhaled sharply, trying to shake off the frustration. This wasn't just about cutting a tree—it was about mastering the Gale Whisper Sword.
The technique was as elusive as its name suggested. The "whispering" part was the heart of it, a skill that allowed its wielder to listen to the subtle shifts in the wind, almost as if it were whispering secrets about an opponent's movements. It was a level of mastery that required not only incredible focus but also a connection to the wind itself, as though it were a partner in battle.
But Cassian wasn't there yet. He had barely scratched the surface of the technique, focusing solely on the physical foundation: learning to move like the wind. To flow with grace, to strike with its speed and unpredictability. The fluid arcs of his blade were supposed to mimic the gusts and breezes, but his execution felt clunky, forced.
He glanced at his blade, its surface catching the faint green glow of his mana. "Flow like the wind," he murmured, echoing the words of the ancient text he had studied tirelessly. But even the simplest step—mastering the fluidity of movement—was proving to be an uphill battle.
Cassian shifted his stance, his muscles tense yet flexible, like a coiled spring ready to move. He closed his eyes, letting the breeze brush against his face, trying to feel it, to connect with it. 'If I can't even move like the wind, how can I expect to hear it whisper?'
He swung again, this time slower, more deliberate. The arcs of green light followed the blade's path, their motion smoother but still lacking the seamless elegance he sought. The tree stood unmoved, as if mocking his efforts.
Cassian sighed heavily, lowering his blade. The day's practice was over, not because he couldn't keep going—he could. His body was far from exhausted, the pain of fatigue dulled by the effects of his Domain. Yet, the weariness in his mind was undeniable. His thoughts grew sluggish, and his vision flickered in and out of focus. It was a clear sign that, for today, he was done.
He sheathed his sword, his frustration still simmering but held in check. "Not the same failure tomorrow," he muttered under his breath, a promise to himself. He couldn't afford to stagnate, not when he had come this far.
As the sun dipped lower, Cassian made his way back to town. His mind drifted to Julius, who should be home by now. Julius had been his mentor in more ways than one, teaching him how to harness his Domain with precision and control. Though their time together had grown scarce lately due to Julius's responsibilities at the law enforcement department,
He still been giving him daily tasks to prepare for his secert assingment—nothing too specific, just hints that it was important and that he'd need to be ready at any moment. The details were still vague, and he wasn't even sure if he had days or weeks before he'd be sent off.
That aside, He couldn't stop thinking about the Gale Whisper Sword technique. It was turning out to be far more challenging than he'd expected, and no matter how much he practiced, he couldn't shake the feeling that his progress wasn't good enough.
'Maybe I should ask Julius for help,' he thoughted, When Cassian arrived at Julius's place, the older man was already home, lounging on a chair with a thick book in hand. He looked up as Cassian stepped inside, raising an eyebrow. "What's with the face?"
Cassian hesitated for a moment, then sighed and sat down across from him. "It's the Gale Whisper Sword. I've been practicing, but I can't get it to feel right. It's like… no matter what I do, I'm missing something."
Julius closed the book, setting it aside as he leaned forward. "Let me see the technique." Cassian handed him the scroll, and Julius scanned it with practiced ease. After a moment, he nodded, his expression calm but thoughtful.
"The fighting techniques that use nature's elements—wind, water, things like that—as their foundation aren't easy, Cassian," Julius said, setting the scroll on the table. "You've only been practicing for a few days. That's barely a scratch on the surface. People usually take months, even years, to master just a small part of them."
Cassian opened his mouth to protest, but Julius raised a hand to stop him. "Don't worry about it. Just keep grinding. You'll learn it if you stick with it." He leaned back, a small smile tugging at his lips. "If you really want to speed things up, try sparring. There's no better way to figure out what works and what doesn't. Techniques are meant to be used in real combat, not just against trees."
"Well, I've been thinking about it, but I don't know anyone who can spar with me seriously without beating me in a single move," Cassian admitted, scratching the back of his head.
Julius chuckled, the memory of Cassian's earlier request flashing through his mind. The kid had once asked him to go all out during a sparring session. Julius had obliged—well, sort of. He'd used just a fraction of his real power, and even that had sent Cassian flying several hundred meters straight into a mansion's wall.
Julius grinned brightly and said, "Don't worry, you'll be meeting plenty of them soon enough."