"Where in the world did you find this monster of a kid?" the lieutenant murmured, his gaze fixed on the still figure of Kael amidst the five prone forms littering the training grounds.
Erick, a man usually composed and in control, simply shook his head, a low whistle escaping his lips.
"Two weeks," Erick finally said, his voice a low rumble. "Just two weeks ago, he couldn't even hold a practice sword properly. He tripped over his own feet during basic drills." He gestured vaguely at the scene before them, the contrast between his words and the reality stark. "And now... this."
The lieutenant shifted his weight, his eyes narrowed in disbelief. "He wasn't even breathing hard, My lord. Not once. It was like... like he knew exactly where every strike was going to land before it even started." He ran a hand over his stubbled chin, a thoughtful frown creasing his forehead.
Erick nodded slowly, his mind racing. He'd seen glimpses of potential in Kael, a raw intensity that had intrigued him enough to offer the boy sanctuary within his estate. But this… this was beyond anything he could have imagined. He'd expected a clumsy novice, someone who would require months of patient instruction. Instead, he'd witnessed a display of defensive prowess that bordered on the uncanny
"Did you notice his eyes, My lord?" the lieutenant continued, his voice hushed. "They never flickered. Never followed the attacks. It was like he was seeing something we weren't."
…
"Well that was easy," Kael murmured, his gaze drifting over the five figures sprawled on the dusty training ground. Just two weeks ago, keeping up with even one of them had felt like an impossible feat, a lung-searing, muscle-aching ordeal. Now, they looked more like children flailing with oversized sticks. A wry smile touched his lips. Perhaps Erick's brutal training regime was finally yielding some unexpected results, though Kael would rather attribute it to something far more… peculiar.
He let out a soft sigh. These past two weeks under Erick's forced tutelage had been a personal hell. His inherent aversion to any form of strenuous activity warred constantly with the governor's relentless drilling in basic swordsmanship. Despite his vocal protests and creatively crafted excuses, Erick had remained unyielding, his stern face a constant reminder of Kael's less-than-voluntary residency.
And you might be wondering how I managed to beat five skilled soldiers who've likely been training their whole lives with just two weeks of basic swordsmanship? The answer, Kael mused with a flicker of something akin to amusement, was simple: Analysis. Or perhaps something beyond simple analysis.
He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment this… talent had bloomed. Perhaps it was a lingering effect of the Archive, that strange repository of knowledge, or maybe it was something else entirely, a latent ability awakened by the sheer necessity of survival. But for whatever reason, he had developed an uncanny ability to read people, to anticipate their actions with an almost preternatural accuracy.
It had started roughly a week ago. He'd been utterly spent after one particularly brutal afternoon of exercises, sprawled on the ground like a discarded doll, silently questioning every decision that had led him to this sweaty misery. His gaze had idly fallen upon one of the guards, a burly man with a neatly trimmed beard, practicing his sword technique nearby. The rhythmic swish of the blade had been a monotonous soundtrack to Kael's exhaustion.
Then, something had shifted. It wasn't a conscious effort, but rather a deep, almost involuntary focus. His eyes tracked the guard's every movement, dissecting each minute detail. The subtle shift in his stance before a thrust, the almost imperceptible tightening of his grip before a slash, the way his weight shifted in anticipation of a parry, the slight twitch of his shoulder that telegraphed an overhead strike. Kael's mind absorbed it all, cataloging and categorizing with an effortless precision that surprised even him.
He found himself in a strange, dazed state, his mind effortlessly mapping the sequence of the guard's movements. It was as if the next action unfolded in his mind's eye an instant before it physically occurred. He could see the trajectory of the blade, the point of impact, the guard's subsequent movements, all before they happened. It was like watching a scene play out in slow motion, allowing him ample time to prepare.
A sudden, sharp throb behind his eyes shattered the focus, a blinding headache that threatened to send him spiraling into unconsciousness. The intensity was alarming, like his brain was trying to process too much information at once. Erick, noticing his sudden pallor and the way he clutched his head, had reluctantly allowed him to retire early, muttering something about pushing him too hard.
But back in the relative quiet of his room, sleep remained elusive. His mind kept replaying the guard's movements, the phantom swing of the blade, the subtle adjustments of his feet. The analytical part of his brain wouldn't shut off, dissecting and replaying the training session. Finally, unable to quell the restless energy and the nagging curiosity, Kael rose and retrieved his training sword from the wall.
Standing in the center of his room, he began to mimic the movements he had observed. At first, his body felt clumsy and uncoordinated. Watching and doing, he quickly realized, were vastly different. His balance was off, his grip too tight, some movements executed with a jerky stiffness. But the mental blueprint was there, guiding him.
Yet, with a surprising degree of focus, he persisted. Slowly, the movements began to smooth out, his body remembering the sequence his mind had so diligently recorded. For hours, he practiced, the rhythmic swish of the wooden sword filling the quiet room. He felt a strange connection to the weapon, an intuitive understanding blossoming within him. It wasn't just muscle memory, it was like his mind and the sword were becoming extensions of each other.
Then, a faint chime, almost musical, broke his concentration. The familiar, yet still somewhat surreal, golden interface of the Archive flickered into existence before his eyes.
[Sword Mastery +3]
Kael stared at the notification, a flicker of understanding dawning within him. This strange ability… it wasn't just about reading movements. It was about learning, truly learning, at an accelerated and perhaps even unnatural pace. The more he observed and then replicated, the more proficient he became. The headache, though unpleasant, seemed to be a byproduct of this rapid acquisition of skill. A strange and potentially powerful trade-off.