Sniff!
Z'oelo wiped the hot tears streaming down his tightened face and realized how out of line he was.
Disgraceful.
Surely that is what his father would think.
For a Shetavi to openly weep as such was looked down upon amongst a race of hardened warriors.
Only the likes of newborns had the habit of bawling their eyes out.
"Z'oelo! Breakfast is ready!" His mother called out to him.
Unlike the feeling he felt from Muni, his mother gave off this familiar standoffish vibe.
'I gladly await your presence in the near future.'
Wu!
He felt a response.
She was awaiting his touch as well, an instinctual urge on her part as an item spirit.
Unfortunately, she had not completed the process of visualizing an item for his use.
Until then, their secret would last as such until the moment of her manifestation.
At the very least, they could communicate albeit simple feelings and thoughts.
Nonetheless, Z'oelo would soon have his own Livelli and become one of the classed Shetavi based on what it turned out to be.
As he walked through the door, Z'oelo felt he had a new lease on life.
It was one thing to be a part of a new world with no other familiar people and another to have someone to bond with.
"Well don't you seem different. Did anything happen while you were outside?"
His mother had seen the look on his face upon seeing him return.
"It's nothing Mother. I've just had an epiphany about the sword," he made up a plausible excuse.
"That's great! Your father will be proud to hear about this."
"Yeah," the domineering image of his father appeared in his mind, "I sure hope so."
"Well now, you need to hurry up and finish eating so that you can prepare for your training. Go on, eat."
Z'oelo picked up his plate and got to preparing his breakfast.
After finishing up, he went out back to the backyard where a large building was situated.
He went in and was met with the same domineering figure that was etched into his being.
Quite literally when you delved into the details of what was about to occur.
"Come."
Without wasting any time, the training session would commence!
Shing!
Without needing to unsheathe his sword, Z'oelo charged forwards with his naked blade.
Clang!
Without skipping a beat— and hardly moving an inch— the Sword Sovereign single handedly angled his sword to block his own.
"When going on the offensive, if your sword does not connect, there is no point in striking in the first place!"
Another swift strike and Z'oelo's sword was knocked out of his grip.
"I've already taught you technique, but what matters more is intention."
"Pick up your weapon! Strike back with intention!"
'Urgh! It's always the same shit!'
He went to grab the sword but was met with a stealthy kick to the back.
"If I had chosen to strike with my sword, you would have been dead. This is training but remember: never give your opponent the advantage."
'Yeah, yeah. Like I haven't heard that one before."
He hurriedly snatched up the sword and attempted to return the favor by way of an anger-fueled slash.
Clang.
Yet another slight movement and the slash was blocked with minimal effort.
"Futile! Emotions are only necessary when properly channeled. Do you think I can't tell your anger from the way you haphazardly swing your sword?"
"Again!"
This time, Z'oelo remembered his technique and held his sword with a bit more correction.
Clang! Clang! Clang.
"Better," a simple comment was made.
"Now try and block this!"
A furious barrage of sword strikes hit Z'oelo's lone sword and cut around his arms.
"Argh!"
He gritted his teeth and took it while adjusting his stance.
'Just endure.'
He told himself while stinging pain was felt just like all the other times he entered the training hall.
"Once more! Defend or you'll end up with more wounds."
'Alright. I get it already.'
He was unusually impatient this time around; it seemed that Muni's existence had made a mark on him differently than his wounds.
'I want to see her.'
It was a simple thought, but it held all his feelings inside.
Because his next thought was something even he could not figure out the sentiment behind.
'I want to feel her.'
The additional thought sparked a chain reaction with his mental state.
Oong!
There was a resounding sound within himself and a resonation alongside it.
'To bash his head in, huh?'
He felt the connection between him and his Livelli partner.
It was a bit rushed, but he could not help but feel excited at the prospect of giving back his pain in full.
In the midst of the barrage of attacks, Z'oelo held out his extra arms and grabbed the air.
At the same time, something was manifesting in his palms, rendering his father surprised.
In the instant he was overwhelmed by the shock, a blunt object bashed against his head and knocked him out entirely.
While holding the metal bat in his hand, Z'oelo took a moment to gather himself.
"Feels better."
This was the first actual message transmitted to him from Muni.
"Haha. Hahaha. HAHAHA!"
He could not hold back anymore.
In an instant, his haughty and oh so mighty father was knocked unconscious on the floor with no way of processing what just happened.
"Muni! Is it really you."
"It's me Z'oelo! I feel fully awakened for some strange reason!"
"Who cares! You're actually here with me."
"I am. I'm here with you now."
While others would just see the metal bat in his arms, he saw Muni as a little fairy-like creature on top of it.
Very quickly did the mood dim as the two's previous excitement turned into awkward realization.
They were not exactly the friendliest to each other the last time they met.
Added to the fact that Muni knew basically everything about Z'oelo's past—both this life and his past due to the special connection.
"You know...," Muni began, "...I don't think any less of you because of what you went through. If anything, I'm sorry for what happened to you."
"No don't be. Being a dick isn't justified by any means."
"Yeah, you were kind of a dick back then."
"Haha. I wish I would have met you earlier. Maybe then it wouldn't be so weird to tell you I kind of like you."
He immediately grew flustered upon realizing his mouth would not stop moving.
"Your style that is! I like your style."
Her tiny cheeks blushed at his terrible attempt at keeping it cool.
"You're not so bad yourself. That is when you aren't being such a dick."
"Haha. Yeah."
He then turned to his father on the ground, "So, what do we do about him?"