Soon it was time to start swinging. Marcellus had been replaying the memory sent by Sebastian.

However, he was interrupted by a message that reached him through his medium.

"Gather outside" - Primus Gladius [Leon].

As Marcellus reminisced about his impression of Leon before he was appointed Primus, he recalled the indelible impression Leon had left on him. Leon embodied strength with his muscular frame and cleanly shaved head. An atmosphere of raw power emanated from him, commanding attention and respect.

His chiselled physique hinted at his remarkable physical abilities, while the scars etched across his arms and chest served as visible testaments to the battles he had fought and emerged victorious from.

Marcellus groggily got up from his lotus position. He did not like being ordered, but what could he do? He definitely could not beat Leon... not that he thought about beating him up.

As Marcellus stepped out wearing the blindfold, a sense of unfamiliarity enveloped him. The forest surrounded him with a symphony of sounds, both distant and near, his blindness however created an atmosphere of tranquillity and equanimity. However, his unaccustomed state of blindness made it challenging for him to interpret and navigate through the dense vegetation.

In the midst of his cautious footsteps, Marcellus's leg unexpectedly became ensnared in the gnarled root of a tree. Momentarily caught off guard, he stumbled forward and met the ground with an abrupt and unceremonious fall.

Thud!

His face landed flat on the forest floor, the impact jarring his senses. For a brief moment, Marcellus lay still, his body adjusting to the unexpected encounter with the forest terrain. As he gradually regained his composure, with a mix of amusement and slight embarrassment, he brushed off the dirt and leaves, reminding himself to be more mindful of the intricate natural obstacles that the forest concealed.

What Marcellus did not know, however, was that everyone had already gathered and were waiting for only him. They leisurely watched him fall. Leon observed him with curiosity and then nodded his head imperceptibly as if he understood something.

When Marcellus eventually made it over, Leon cleared his throat and spoke, "I am currently leading this group until someone proves themselves more worthy, but I will give my utmost effort to guide, train, and support all of you.

"To lead you all effectively, we need to have a deeper understanding of each other. I invite you to send me a private message where you can share more about your attributes and traits, and I will do the same in return."

In the next few minutes, Leon received an influx of messages.

[cold-blooded: act rationally and logically]

[calm heart: enhanced clarity of thought]

[serene steps: embody a state of tranquility and mindfulness]

[covetous hunger: overwhelming nature of the desire and the inability to find contentment or fulfillment]

Leon nodded. "Now that we trust each other a little more, I am going to share some things."

"The essence of combat lies not only in the physical prowess we display but also in the mastery of our minds. Every movement, every decision, must be deliberate and calculated. We must anticipate our enemy's actions before they even manifest, for victory is often won in the realm of anticipation and preparation."

"We must master the art of adaptability, for no battle is the same. We must be as fluid as water, capable of adjusting our tactics to meet any challenge that confronts us. Flexibility is our ally, and versatility is our greatest weapon. We must be able to seamlessly transition from offense to defense, from chaos to order, for it is in the midst of the chaos that true warriors emerge."

"There will be hardships, setbacks, and moments of doubt. But it is in these crucibles that our character is forged, and our mettle is tested. Remember that every defeat carries within it the seed of victory, and every scar tells a tale of resilience and growth."

Marcellus's mind churned as he memorized the words "anticipation and preparation."

Leon paused, his gaze sweeping across the faces of his attentive 'students'. The significance sank deep into the hearts and minds of those who listened.

He continued, his voice steady, "The mind is where true combat mastery lies. It is the realm of anticipation, strategy, and adaptability. The mind is the battlefield within, where battles are won and lost before a single strike is ever thrown."

He walked among them, his presence commanding, as he continued to share his wisdom. "To achieve mastery, you must cultivate a keen awareness, a deep understanding of yourself and your adversaries. Know your strengths, your weaknesses, and the limits of your capabilities. Embrace your fears and doubts, for it is through facing them that you will find the strength to overcome."

Leon paused again, allowing his words to sink in. "Learn to read your opponent, to anticipate their moves before they even make them. It is the ability to see beyond what is apparent, to grasp the subtle shifts in their stance, the flicker of hesitation in their eyes. Train your mind to be a wellspring of intuition, guiding your every action."

He locked eyes with each 'student', his gaze piercing through their doubts and uncertainties. "Remember, technique alone is not enough. It is the fusion of body and mind, the seamless integration of physical prowess with calculated thought, that sets true warriors apart. Let your technique be etched in your muscles and bones, but let your mind be the compass that guides your every step."

For in the realm of combat, it is the fusion of body and mind that leads to true mastery. And with Leon as their guide, they were ready to embrace the challenge, hone their skills, and become warriors who embodied the essence of combat.

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Then, Leon made them summon their swords. After studying them for a while, he nodded and took his longsword out of the air. Despite its size, it was an elegant weapon. The narrow, double-edged blade was much longer than that of Marcellus, with an incredibly sharp, symmetrical tip. The whole blade, as well as the simple cross-shaped guard and the pommel, exuded a sense of craftsmanship. The handle was tightly wrapped in black leather, providing a firm and comfortable grip.

He went to each person, his longsword held firmly in his grip, ready to demonstrate the downward slash. With a focused expression, he positioned himself in front of the first student, preparing to showcase the technique.

"They are both leverage-based weapons," Leon explained, his voice carrying a mix of authority and expertise. "When held with two hands, one hand pushes," he demonstrated by pushing the sword down with the hand near the guard, "while the other hand pulls."

In one fluid motion, Leon raised the longsword above his head, his muscles coiling with controlled power. The blade glistened in the sunlight as it arced through the air. With a precise combination of pushing and pulling, he executed the downward slash, the sword slicing through the imaginary target before him. A resounding "whoosh" filled the training area as the blade descended, its trajectory precise and purposeful.

As Leon moved from one student to another, his demonstrations remained consistent and impactful. With each downward slash, he emphasized the importance of discipline, timing, and unwavering commitment to the art of combat. His words echoed in their minds, driving home the significance of every technique and the meticulous attention required to execute it flawlessly.

The students observed with rapt attention, absorbing Leon's every move, the fluidity of his motions, and the grace with which he wielded the sword. They recognized that the downward slash was not just a casual strike; it was a manifestation of focused energy, technique, and the seamless coordination of mind and body.

Marcellus was still blindfolded so he could not see, yet Leon spent ample effort and time guiding him.

Marcellus had forged only a single friendship amid the daily trials that punctuated his new existence. It wasn't that he shunned social interaction, but rather the relentless demands of training and survival left little room for weaving intricate connections. Across the span of thirty days, Leon assumed the mantle of primus, orchestrating their routines and tasks with a guiding hand.

Marcellus felt the stirrings of transformation within himself. Time bore witness to Marcellus's evolution, a metamorphosis that kindled strength and resilience within him. His very bones had been fortified, imbued with a density that rivalled iron itself. The path of the Harmonic Nexus became his constant pursuit, his sword a tool wielded with the wild intensity of a frenzied beast.

One transformation, in particular, brought elation to Marcellus—an increase in endurance that allowed him to complete morning runs without succumbing to exhaustion. With a smile, he finally glanced at his medium.

***

[Bip... Analyzing the host...]

Name: [Marcellus ???]

Rank: [Mundane]

Strength: [0.8]

Constitution: [0.6]

Stamina: [1.0]

Agility: [0.9]

Spirit Force: [0.01]

Ether Core: [2.5]

Attributes: [calm heart][sensitive]

***

The following day, after a customary four-hour sprint, Leon gathered the group. The uncertainty of their arrival at this mysterious realm and the lack of knowledge about their departure weighed heavily on his mind. Leon had realized that they were not just in a realm of training and discipline but also a place teeming with dangers and unforeseen challenges. This insight he had gained from scouting.

"This realm is filled with monsters," he acknowledged, the thought sending a shiver down his spine. The idea of facing creatures unknown and potentially lethal added a layer of gravity to their situation. Only knights could stand a chance.

Furthermore, Leon considered the daunting task of engaging in combat with fellow warriors. "Our struggles are yet a path to become stronger."

Beyond the combative encounters with their peers, Leon knew they would also have to venture into the wilderness, they were running out of time and were in an indefensible position, a clearing out in the open. "In our pursuit of survival, we must brave the untamed wilderness," he thought, envisioning the rugged terrains and the unpredictable elements of nature they would have to navigate.

As Marcellus contemplated Leon's speech, he couldn't help but notice Leon's familiarity with delivering such orations. He must be accustomed to this, sending people to die, perhaps he is like my priest. Marcellus mused.

For unknown reasons, Marcellus likened Leon to the head of his small village. His village was so tiny that Marcellus's family could be considered one of the founding families. The village head protected and organized everything, shielding them from the elements. His daughter, who had been Marcellus's swordmaster for a time, had also played a significant role in his life—until he ran away without completing his training.

The killing of fellow warriors for ether cores was a shadow that loomed over them, a haunting reality they dared not confront openly. No one had explicitly mentioned that they needed to kill others to obtain an ether core. Strangely, they all seemed to instinctively understand this, as if knowledge was pursuing them, growing within their minds the more they contemplated it.

Marcellus felt a shiver of discomfort ripple through the group—a discomfort that mirrored his own.

Leon, the First Sword - Primus, held the power to transmit messages, an invaluable advantage in their isolated existence. Yet, this power held a sinister undertone—a reminder of the necessity to acquire ether cores, even through the act of taking a life.

The act was not condoned, yet the knowledge clung to them like a chilling mist. Where did it come from, this unsettling certainty? With each thought, the line between instinct and imposed learning blurred, and a gnawing doubt whispered of manipulation and hidden agendas.

With a pointed gesture, Leon directed their attention toward the ethereal glow of a sun bled violet that dominated the horizon. A palpable tension settled over the maniple as they marched in that direction.

Time flowed like water, a relentless current that carried them through an evolving landscape of challenges. Five months slipped through their fingers, a span marked by relentless hunts and daily routines. They had yet to encounter other humans, only beastly creatures. Yet, the unseen shadow of imminent conflict loomed large—a grim reminder of the fragile line they walked.

The illusion of safety shattered as two teams of five fell victim to a fearsome beast. The absence of effective long-range communication left them vulnerable, a lesson etched in blood and loss.

Soon their march paused, and Marcellus's gaze was drawn to the citadel that now stood before them. A relic of a forgotten era, otherworldly, its presence ignited a blend of intrigue and caution. The ancient walls, bearing the scars of time, whispered of a history long faded—a history that beckoned them to unearth its secrets amidst the desolation.

Every step towards the shimmering citadel felt heavy with possibility and dread. Marcellus felt a tapestry of emotions woven from hope and gnawing unease. Would they be allies, adversaries, or ghosts of a life he barely remembered?