CHAPTER 2 (PART 2)
GHAMURANT STYLE TRAINING (POV: GALIA GHAMURANT)
Ever since I've had a sense of myself, the art of the sword has always caught my attention. My father, Latm Ghamurant, was the main subject to influence me in this proud path.
For, looking at him, wielding the sword during the sessions dedicated to his training was quite sublime. Being a spectator of each cut, step with the feet and bearing of the posture, was summed up in a work of art itself. Although, actually, something kept me in doubt.
¿Why does father use the sword with his legs?
That was certainly strange to me; Grandpa, Aria and even some knights of the house brandished their swords with their hands, but my father didn't: the legs were his hands and they certainly acted like one.
Grandpa always complained about this, telling him that it is not a worthy way to use a sword. However, this did not matter to father, stressing at all times that he wanted to find his own style and use of the same way in the sword.
I never understood it, much less to this day; nevertheless, my father is tough with his technique, which is more than enough for me.
After all, latm, it is not specifically someone weak, adding up that strange form to brandish a sword. On the other hand, my grandfather and father have called me from the beginning as a prodigy for the use of wielding a sword, although, of course, the excessive weight of the swordsmen was exaggerated even for my newly developed arms and muscles, since I am only nine years old.
Although that was not really a problem, since I have always shown this talent for fencing. Father, curious, during one of his workouts, he looked at me sitting there like a fool when I was much younger.
I looked at him, as it was my favorite pastime and not primarily for my father, but for the sword that wielded itself. My eyes lit up and I imagined endless possibilities to counter each attack, but in most of all possible scenes, I ended with my face on the floor.
I remember, Father, I look at my expression of annoyance, take a breath and he comes to me.
"¿Did you have a bath in your pants again, Galia? "
"¿Uh? ¡No! I was thinking of something else..."
"Something else, then, ¿what is it that so disturbs my sweet little girl?" Father asked me; his tone was soft and understandable. I sigh resigned.
"¡It's just... I want to wield a sword too!"
At that moment my voice was wobbly, but full of emotion. Father, who only gave me a smile, handed me a wooden stick that was by the training camp. The doubt fell on me, but I took the stick in my hands, once he spread it out to give it to me. With his left arm he indicated that I should approach. in response I heeded your command.
"First, try to replicate this that I will do. Remember, look and analyze, then rephrase".
I nodded to his words, focused my gaze and, to my surprise, at that moment my father was wielding the sword with his hands and not with his legs. I was surprised, but I didn't say anything, I just let him continue. He closed his eyes and a deep but quiet breath escaped from his throat; several seconds with his eyes closed, when suddenly a scream ceased in the air.
The crust of the air broke; a falling cut fell from heaven with the abrupt force of father. The same wave of air fluttered and ruined my hair; the clothes also suffered consequences and my eyes opened wide.
The said cut was given with enough force to leave a small dent on the floor, which is surprising because the sword that father had in his hands never touched the floor. The same impact force was responsible for this creamy dent.
Then, at that very moment, my thought joined in.
¿Can I do that too?
Of course, I had my doubts, but the emotion hit me on the body. The very idea of being able to exert such an incredible force had me flying. At that time, I had never taken a sword and to achieve something like that in my first time, it became, without any doubt, something extremely fascinating.
"Well, now it's your turn, Galia."
I nodded, posed myself, repeated the same father's posture with the wooden stick, clinging with all my strength to each of my fingers on the palm of my hands.
In consequence, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath to shortly after review each muscle movement of that movement that my father exercised a few moments ago.
Every detail was flooded by my brain, its muscular tension and every fiber before following its rhythmic system. I exhaled and in the last moments, seconds before I opened my eyes, I felt a wave flood over my two arms to the exact point of my heart.
At that moment it was strange to me, an uncomfortable feeling; I felt my own heart quicken from nowhere, even burning accordingly. A sharp pain flooded me; it bit the corner of my lips, but I resisted and then I took the first step, the downward cut.
At first nothing surprising happened; in fact, the cut was not even slightly surprising as my father's. I was disappointed, but before I had a chance to say anything, I fainted.
The very moment when an immense wave of pure power was thrown before me. I did not pay so much attention to it before falling to the ground, but yes, my father's shocked face full of surprise.
Since then, father took care of training me, although it was really very few times, since this same one spent mostly outside the house for family issues and the other two beastly families. It bothered me, but I could not do anything beyond complaining to Aria.
Months later and tired of my father's absence, I chose to ask my grandfather for help, giving me the task of hunting a huge beast. It wasn't complicated, but it took time.
I fulfilled the task and then Grandpa fulfilled his word, now coming to the present of my way with the sword. His training was and is everything I expected, heavy exercises that destroy every muscle fiber of my body, traps that put at risk my own integrity and life. A circuit of death that in any carelessness can condemn my end, it is surprising.
Grandpa added an extra challenge, carrying a backpack heavier than shit, increasing the difficulty of the circuit and becoming a hell. Well, I was forced to go down and up repeatedly during the day from the mountain where it makes the circuit, becoming the first exercise of training in the Ghamurant style.
Because, in the words of the grandfather, this training consists of three phases and exercises. In the first place, climbing up and down this mountain full of traps.
The second phase of training consists of weights.
Carry that backpack at all times, even to eat or take a bath, do a hundred push-ups, a hundred squats and run hundreds of kilometers apart from the already covered with the mountain circuit. Adding to it, make a thousand cuts with a wooden sword the size of a fucking log.
My arms and legs burn in every way, but, that's just what makes it more enjoyable.
The third and final phase ends with me on a thin rope, trying to keep my balance on one leg while that heavy backpack wobbles in every way possible.
Not only that, my feet burn and burn as a result of being just above a damn furnace with volcanic stones; adding to it, that the grandfather forces me to have my eyes covered with a cloth, obscuring my vision completely.
That would be more than enough if not because the grandfather adds an extra. Deliver sudden blows, blows that I have to dodge with my pure instinct of warrior beast.
It hurts, it burns and I suffer like hell at every stage of training; yet that is what gives me the strength not to give up.
I want Grandpa and Dad and Aria to be proud of me, to congratulate me on my achievement and thus become strong with the sword until I am a queen.
For that is my goal, to become a sword queen of my family's style, the thousand tons. Aria, at first, showed up hard with the grandfather, so I had to intervene, where in the end they were in a deal. I would eat as much as ogre people themselves for the fruit of my efforts and well, that was certainly not a bad thing.
Well, Grandpa always says that good training requires a diet worthy of such scale as this training is and if I'm proud of anything, it's that I have a stomach big enough to raze the food of an entire kingdom.
On the other hand, father was not at home as usual, being that he is in demonic territory for some matters that really do not interest me at all. My training is more important after all.
Besides, I don't understand a fucking thing about politics. With that aside, the training has gone very naturally, recapitulating from day one to past a whole month and as a result of all those efforts my body showed the first changes.
My stamina improved, as did my strength; it is still difficult to bear with so much weight, but at least I have enough strength not to die in the attempt once again.
My biceps have grown a bit, my legs have been toned subtly and calluses have returned to my hands somewhat scratchy.
But the most important thing is certainly my abdomen and my biceps, because at this pace I could get as muscular as a father! But Aria always tells me that is not suitable for a princess as I am, of course, just ignore it.
Because if it were up to me, I'd love to be a walking ball of pure muscle. Aria is not the only one aware of my progress; grandpa is the main informed, but besides them two, employees are also aware of my muscle growth, For each and every one of them and they are victims of my glorious bodybuilding events imposed and organized by myself. A spectacle full of my own muscles.
"¡Waah! Our lady is great!"
¡Cheers!
"¡Just look at that abdomen so well marked!"
Even so, most of the time the show is abruptly interrupted by a wild aria.
"¡Miss, I've been looking for her for a while and you idiots get back to work!"
The best option in these situations was to listen to all the indications of aria, she is quite frightening when she is upset....
But, actually all this is fun, I am looking forward to the return of father and be able to show him these advances. I'm sure he will congratulate me and reward me with thousands of bagels filled with cream, it is to be expected because I am the incredible Galia Ghamurant!