"I want you to hook the sheaths to your belts, opposite from your dominant hand," Vanya instructed.

As I fumbled with my sheath, I stole glances at Vanya, noting how effortlessly she secured her glass sword to her belt. Her movements were fluid, a seamless dance of expertise that made even this simple act look graceful.

"Before you can begin wielding your sword, you obviously have to be able to draw it first," In a motion swift and fluid as a blink, she unsheathed her sword, the glass blade slicing through the air, targeting an unseen enemy. "You must draw the sword perfectly straight, without twisting the blade or dragging it out of its sheath. Otherwise, the blade will break. Keep practicing until you can do it ten times a row, then work on increasing your speed."

Taking a deep breath, I turned my attention to my own sword. The sheath felt awkward and cumbersome at my side, a foreign weight against my thigh. I placed my broken sword back into its sheath, and sent mana to it. A gentle suction force pulled it in, and I checked the mana usage.

[ Mana: 130 / 130 ]

The minimal mana expenditure was a small relief, but the real challenge lay ahead. After two more attempts, each as fruitless as the last, I noticed a slight dip in my resources.

[ Mana: 129 / 130 ]

The next hour stretched long and arduous. Each attempt to draw the sword without damaging it was met with varying degrees of failure and frustration.

My hands trembled as I reached for the sheathed glass sword, a mix of anticipation and frustration brewing within me. Each attempt at drawing the blade was a meticulous process, requiring an intense focus that felt foreign.

I steadied my breath and grasped the hilt, my fingers curling around it with determined precision. I pulled, aiming to keep the blade perfectly straight as Vanya had instructed. The glass edge slid a few inches out before a slight, unintentional twist of my wrist caused a familiar snapping sound. The top half of the sword shattered, falling to the ground in a clatter of sparkling shards. My heart sank with the fragments, a surge of irritation flushing my cheeks.

"I see your hand wavered," Vanya noted, her voice devoid of judgment yet sharp with observation. "Remember, any deviation magnifies your failure. Try to visualize your drawing."

I reset the broken pieces, channeling a minimal amount of mana to fuse them back together. The blade hummed slightly under the magic, sealing itself seamlessly as if mocking my lack of skill.

This time, I focused harder, visualizing the path of the blade as a straight line that could not—would not—waver.

My pull was slower, more deliberate.

The sword resisted, the sheath clinging to the glass as if reluctant to part with it. Nearly halfway out, a slight catch, a small snag at the sheath's lip, and I overcompensated.

The blade skewed sideways, and the inevitable crack echoed mockingly in the quiet morning air.

Vanya paced around me from time to time while doing some exercises, studying my technique, and trying to offer advice where she could, be it how they bent their shoulders or the angle they drew from.

Then the glass cracking repeated. With each failed attempt, a surge of frustration built within me. My hands trembled slightly, not from exertion but from the growing dread of inadequacy.

Vanya paused my training after what felt like the hundredth snap of glass. With a measured grace, she picked her silver and glass swords. "Watch me," she urged, "This is your end goal. In a few years, this will be normal, and you'll laugh at your frustration." Her voice was cool, a calm contrast to the heat of my embarrassment.

She drew the glass sword with perfect mastery, the blade gleaming in the light. This time, I found myself more appreciative of the skills displayed. Vanya's movements were fluid, each action executed with precision

She struck the glass sword against the back of her silver, this time with much more force.

I winced, expecting the cracking sound that I had gradually come to dread. However, the anticipated break never came. With a controlled ferocity, her glass sword struck the back of her silver with resounding clinks. Both the swing and the direction of the blade were perfectly vertical, leaving the glass edge unchipped.

Vanya continued her demonstration, smashing the two blades together at varying angles, yet always maintaining the sword's alignment with her swing. Each impact was precise, the blade moving in perfect vertical alignment, unmarred by the force. Her arms were strong and sure, her movements deliberate and calculated. The blade remained steadfast and unchipped amidst the testing.

Her proficiency was a spectacle, a stark reminder of the skill gap between us. Yet, as I watched, I felt a new peak of understanding. The frustration I felt would fade with time and practice. Vanya's demonstration revealed not just her mastery but also the path forward for me.

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She sheathed her swords and turned to face me. "Remember, it's all about consistency and control. With time, you'll master it too. Now, try again. Focus on your breathing and align your body with your movement. Trust in your progress."

After another twenty attempts, the motivation didn’t last long, though it lingered in the back of my mind. Frustration brewed like a storm within me. I was tired of the sound of breaking glass, tired of the repetitive task that seemed so simple yet proved so daunting.

With a deep inhale, I approached the task with renewed resolve but a simmering undercurrent of vexation.

My muscles tensed, my grip firm, as I prepared to attempt another draw, hoping to finally match the flawless technique of Vanya. This time, I pulled with a swift, sure motion, my entire body aligned with the draw. The blade came free, glinting cruelly under the twin suns, a almost full draw with no breaks.

A triumph, short-lived, as in my haste to prove my capability, I tilted the blade just as I cleared the sheath. The tip scratched the sheath, a slight pressure, and the sword snapped from the tip.

Dropping to my knees, I gathered the pieces, the frustration boiling over. "How can anyone wield such a fragile weapon?" I muttered, more to myself than to Vanya.

She approached, her steps silent on the soft earth. "That was almost smoothly done. The glass sword teaches more than just swordplay," she said, crouching beside me. "It teaches patience, precision, and the importance of maintaining composure under pressure. Every warrior must learn these, Nova. And you will be no exception."

I spent the next hours repeatedly trying to draw their swords without any damage. Even after the near success I found it rather difficult, as while I managed to successfully pull out only by giving half a minute, it was only one out of every dozen attempts.

[ Mana: 29 / 130 ]

Though if I hear that awful sound one more time, it’ll be one time too many, I welcomed the challenge, this new method of studying swordplay. Without magic, training like this would never have been possible. There was little help she could give, as this most basic foundation couldn't be taught, only learned through repetition.

After a morning fraught with frustration and fleeting moments of success, we took a much-needed lunch break. Refreshed and slightly more composed, we reconvened in a different training area for the afternoon session.

—

Vanya led the way, her strides purposeful. "By now, even if you haven't mastered drawing your sword, you should have a sense of the dexterity and accuracy needed to handle it," Her voice encouraging. "I expect you to practice drawing it in your spare time until you can do it perfectly. For now, we're going to move on to the next stage. Follow me."

We soon reached a large, covered pavilion that housed an assortment of combat dummies in all types of different shapes and weapon racks, each item meticulously placed for optimal access. The walls, adorned with banners representing various academy pillars, fluttered slightly in the gentle breeze.

I could see a scattering few students training in different areas. In the distance, the muffled clanks and shouts of other students could be heard.

Approaching the entrance, a middle-aged worker with robust body, manning the reception of the new training area, greeted Vanya with a nod. "New student, Professor Vanya?"

"Yes, Swordsmanship 1st Year," Vanya said to the man.

Gary's eyes sharpened as he chuckled, his gaze shifting to me. "Ah, welcome! Always good to see obsidians ready to learn the hard way. Don’t worry, we break ‘em as gently as we can here,"

Remembering the morning routine, I shuddered as a forced smile made its way. "I appreciate that. I think."

Our section was starkly utilitarian, sectioned into an array of wooden constructs, each featuring a log, a meter in diameter, propped up at chest height. Each log was mounted on a sturdy base, with fresh saw marks and painted designs on them, splitting into eight sections.

Vanya led me to one of the logs. "Head, right shoulder, right side, right leg, chest, left leg, left side, and left shoulder. The lines depict the eight basic directions in which you attack your enemy, and you will use them to practice your attacks. You'll be swinging at them every day for a week. This will teach you how to control the angle of your swing."

She took her position, demonstrating the correct stance with an easy grace that belied the difficulty of the task. “Watch closely. The angle, the grip, the swing—all must align perfectly.”

She swung her silver sword first, embedding it deeply into the wood at an improper angle.

Before I could understand her reasoning, she then switched to her glass sword and swung at a different spot, against the grain at a perfect angle, and not only did the blade not shatter, but it also matched the depth.

“See? The slightest adjustment makes all the difference. Two different swords with different materials, yet the same result. Regardless of your prowess or experience, whether or not your sword breaks determines your actual skill."

That was cool.

Vanya removed her swords as she motioned me, "Go ahead and give it a try."

This feels like starting off another grueling session. I stepped up to my log, feeling the weight of the glass sword in my hand.

As I raised my sword, focusing on the painted target areas, I could feel Vanya’s attentive eyes on me. The blade came down in a wide arc, aiming for the chest section. The sharp snap of breaking glass was disappointing yet expected. I suppressed a groan, retrieving and repairing the blade.

Come on.

"Every time you repair your sword, I want you to reflect on why your sword snapped. The reason for your failure will become clearer as you get more experience. If you have a clear mind, you will improve by leaps and bounds in no time."

“It feels like every swing is a test,” I commented.

Vanya smiled, watching me position myself. “Every swing is a lesson,” she corrected gently. "For today, just attack in whatever way you're most comfortable in and don't worry about technique. The focus is purely on how you hold the sword. Now, begin."