The long piece of wood whooshed towards Jon’s face, carrying enough force to crack bones. He had learned that lesson firsthand. More than once.

He ducked under the blow and swiped his own blunt weapon at his mother’s leading leg. Casually, she pivoted on her back foot and tapped her son’s hand. It might have been just a tap for her, but the difference in cultivation made it feel like a hard slap, and Jon dropped one of the wooden swords.

As if the first hit didn’t hurt enough, she swung again, hitting him square in the shoulder. “Never drop your weapon.”

Jon didn’t argue. There was no use doing so. Another lesson he had learned. Instead, he bent down to pick up his weapon, resumed a fighting position, and ignored the pain on his hand and shoulder.

It had been exactly four months since he became a Fighter. The markings on his shoulder took little more than a week to completely heal, during which time his mother refrained from any physical training. “If we don’t wait, then the scars will reopen and the markings will be ruined,” was her justification.

But that didn’t mean he could slack off. While they waited, she took the time to teach him all about strange runes, complex diagrams, and foreign-looking words. These were supposedly the basics of spellcasting, and Jon would be able to make use of them after becoming an Initiate.

As the name suggested, this was the initial stage of spell cultivation. Archmage was the second, and Warlock the final one. For now, he remained uncultivated in this path, but Dene assured him that it should change soon. Until then, she continued to focus on his other path.

Dene jumped in again, jabbing at Jon’s arm. He mimicked her movement from before, pivoting on one foot but lacking in dexterity. He lost his balance halfway into the motion, and his weapon only grazed her arm.

Before he could put both feet on the ground, she kicked his supporting leg. Next thing he knew, Jon had a faceful of dirt. He gripped the sticks in each hand. At least he didn’t lose them this time.

“The Yao warrior moves with the grace of Oxossi and strikes with the might of Ogun. Again.”

Grumbling inwardly, Jon pushed up. A refreshing breeze blew gently through the trees surrounding the hilltop, helping him withstand the scorching sun up above.

If that’s how it felt there, Jon dreaded how much worse it probably was in the far south where his mother came from.

Dene stood in place, waiting for him to get in position. Behind her was the small cottage they called home. A short chimney stuck out from the middle of a pitched roof. Windows, too small for anyone to fit through, allowed them to observe the entire surroundings from inside.

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Further back and to the right of their home, the top of a tower peeked out from behind the trees, a green and white flag waving in the wind.

To the other side, halfway between the house and the trees, was the corpse of a deer atop a table. Jon had hunted it on his own, with Dene only following along to observe his performance. He no longer felt nauseous while doing it. More importantly, there was never another repeat of… whatever it was that happened back then, and the whole ordeal felt like a bad dream.

Still, he would rather not do it when possible, despite experiencing how important it was to his growth. Besides the dense layer of nappy hair he now had, Jon looked the same. Four months wasn’t enough for any other significant change in appearance. Wasn’t enough for any advancement in cultivation either, or at least it wasn’t supposed to.

He was sitting by the open hearth. His mother demonstrated a fire spell when he felt a sudden rush of strength similar to when he became a Fighter. When he told her about it, her eyes opened wide, a rare look of surprise on her usually stoic face. “That was quick,” she said.

Average people needed double the time to advance as Fighter. Dene herself did it at similar speeds when she was his age, but only with the full support of her tribe and all the resources that it entailed. Jon had none of those, so his growth was especially noteworthy.

Not that it made his daily life any easier. For every improvement of his, Dene would increase the difficulty so that he was always on the back foot. After he dodged one of her attacks, she increased the power behind them. Once he began to understand how to properly wield the weapons, she changed the light sticks for heavier wood swords. And when he finally managed to touch her once, she began to demand pinpoint accuracy from every strike of his.

With every step he took, the more steep and slippery the road became. At this point, it wouldn’t surprise him if she suddenly became a Paladin once he neared her cultivation level.

Dene circled around him, and Jon spun in place so that he always faced her. She swung the sword on her right hand down at his head. He stepped to the right, barely avoiding the attack, and retaliated with a blow aimed at her ribs. She caught the attack with her own weapon, harmlessly deflecting down. Next, she raised one leg and planted the sole of her boot on his chest.

Jon staggered a few steps but didn’t lose his balance this time.

“You should have dodged to the other side.” Dene stood in place and repeated her initial attack, pausing it midway for demonstration. “My right arm is extended, so my right side is exposed. What you don’t want to do is dodge towards my other weapon.”

When he tried –and subsequently failed– to block one of her attacks, the blunt sword smashed on the side of his head. “Speed and skill are the lifeblood of our fighting style, so you must always be on the move. If an attack comes your way, your first instinct must be to dodge and quickly counter. If that’s not possible then you angle one of your swords and catch the attack. That will deflect it away from your body.”

She glanced at the rough piece of wood in their hands. “Actual swords are better for that, of course. Then the blades will slide more easily.”

When he saw an opportunity and attacked with both weapons together, she ducked under both and jabbed one sword deep into his stomach. Jon almost lost his breakfast there.

“Only overcommit when going for the kill. If that’s not the case, then you should attack with one weapon and then keep the other for a follow-up. Rinse and repeat. You want to be attacking at all times, giving your opponent no time to even breathe. A whirlwind of blades, and eventually spells, that cuts through anyone in its vicinity.”

And when he used what he learned to feint up and kick her in the knee, she said, “Well done.”

Jon smiled. He refrained from massaging his foot.