When Sid woke up again, the faint light of morning filtered through the window, casting soft shadows across the room.

His body still ached, but the pain was more bearable now, dulled by the rest he had gotten. He blinked a few times, adjusting to the light, and once again noticed Thorne Blackwood seated near the fire. The man was reading, his focus entirely on the book in his hands.

Sid lay still for a moment, just watching him. There was something about Thorne that unnerved him—perhaps it was his calm demeanor, or maybe it was the aura of quiet power that surrounded him. Either way, Sid couldn’t shake the feeling that this man was more than he seemed.

Thorne must have sensed he was awake, for he closed the book and looked up, his cold, calculating eyes meeting Sid’s.

"Feeling better, I presume?" Thorne asked, his voice smooth and unreadable.

Sid nodded, struggling to sit up. "Yes... I think so. Thank you again for saving me." Slightly bowing his head.

Thorne gave a slight nod but didn’t respond. Instead, he studied Sid carefully, as if weighing something in his mind. The silence stretched between them, uncomfortable yet filled with an unspoken understanding.

"I’ve been thinking," Sid began, hesitating slightly, "about what happened with the bandits. You... you took them down, didn’t you? All of them?"

Thorne’s lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile, though his eyes remained cold. "Does that surprise you?"

Sid swallowed hard. "It’s just... they were so many. And I—" he paused, the memory of his first kill flashing before him. The blood on his hands, the shock, the fear. "I couldn’t have done that. Not alone."

Thorne’s expression didn’t change. "No, you couldn’t have."

Sid looked down, the weight of his own inadequacy sinking in. The difference in power between him and Thorne was overwhelming, and it gnawed at him. The thought of being so helpless again filled him with dread.

"I want to be stronger," Sid blurted out before he could stop himself. He looked up, determination burning in his eyes. "Please, train me. Show me how to fight like you do."

Thorne raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by the request. "Train you?"

"Yes," Sid said, his voice firmer now. "I want to be stronger. I can’t... I can’t just stand by and be useless. I need to know how to protect myself, how to fight back. Please."

For a moment, Thorne said nothing, simply watching Sid with a look of mild curiosity. Then he shook his head, his voice cool and detached. "No."

Sid’s heart sank. "But why?"

"Because you are not ready." Thorne’s tone left no room for argument. "Strength is not something one simply 'asks' for. It is earned through blood, sweat, and years of discipline. You want to wield a sword, but from what I can see, you are barely capable of holding it."

"I can learn," Sid insisted, desperation creeping into his voice. "I have the will, and I’m not afraid to push myself."

Thorne stood and walked to the window, looking out over the forest beyond. "Will is not enough. But..." He turned back to face Sid. "Show me what you know."

Sid blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. "Show you?"

"Your swordsmanship," Thorne said, gesturing toward the small sword leaning against the wall. "You said you wish to fight like me. Let me see what you’ve been taught."

Sid hesitated but nodded, forcing himself to his feet despite the lingering soreness in his body. He walked over to the sword, gripping the hilt tightly. His father’s teachings came rushing back to him, though they felt distant and clumsy in the shadow of Thorne’s presence.

He squared his stance, positioning the sword the way his father had shown him years ago. Sid felt the weight of Thorne’s gaze, the pressure to impress him weighing heavily on his shoulders. He took a deep breath and began to move through the basic forms.

Sid’s sword strikes were deliberate but lacked the fluidity and precision of a true swordsman. His footwork was careful, but unrefined, and each swing of the blade was filled more with determination than skill. It was clear he had practiced, but equally clear that his training had been rudimentary at best.

When he finished, he stood still, panting slightly from the effort. He looked up at Thorne, hoping for some kind of feedback, some recognition of potential.

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Thorne remained silent, his face unreadable. The seconds dragged on, and just as Sid was about to speak, Thorne finally broke the silence.

"Your form is lacking," he said bluntly, his voice devoid of any emotion. "Your strikes are weak. And your stance..." He shook his head. "Unstable."

Sid clenched his fists, a wave of frustration rising in his chest. He had tried so hard, but it was clear he was still far from being what he wanted to be. "I can improve," he said, his voice shaking slightly. "Just... give me a chance."

Thorne turned away again, his hands clasped behind his back as he walked toward the door. "There’s a tree outside," he said, his tone casual, as if discussing the weather. "A large oak. If you can cut it in half with your sword, I will consider taking you as my apprentice."

Sid blinked, confusion flickering in his eyes. "What?"

"You heard me," Thorne said, not bothering to explain further. "If you can make a single cut deep enough to split that tree in half, I will teach you."

Sid stared at him, his mind racing. The tree Thorne spoke of was massive, far larger than anything Sid could ever hope to cut through in his current state. His hands trembled just at the thought of it.

"It’s impossible," Sid whispered, more to himself than to Thorne.

"Then I suppose you have your answer," Thorne said, turning back to face him. His expression was calm, almost indifferent. "If you cannot accomplish this, you are not ready for the path you seek."

Sid gritted his teeth, frustration and determination swirling inside him. This can’t be the end. He couldn't walk away from this chance, not when the desire to be stronger burned so fiercely within him.

Without another word, Sid grabbed the sword, determination flashing in his eyes. He wouldn’t give up, no matter how impossible the task seemed.

Thorne watched him with a faint, unreadable smile.

Sid stood in front of the towering oak, its massive trunk dwarfing him, casting a shadow that seemed to mock his resolve. His small sword felt inadequate, a reminder of how far he had to go. As he contemplated the task ahead, doubt crept into his mind. Could he really do this?

He thought of his father, of the lessons that had been drilled into him since he was a boy. "When you face an impossible task, continue," his father’s voice echoed in his head. "Your strength isn’t just in your arms or your sword—it’s in your heart. Never stop moving forward, even when the path seems too steep."

Sid clenched his fists, feeling the weight of that lesson press against his chest. He had three days to accomplish the impossible—to cut this oak in half before Lord Thorne Blackwood left. Failure was not an option, not if he wanted to change his fate.

He tried. He swung his sword, slashing at the thick bark again and again, but the tree barely bore the marks of his efforts. Each strike felt weak, shallow, and Sid’s frustration grew with every failed attempt.

By the evening of the first day, Sid’s arms ached, and the tree still stood as if mocking him. He stared at the faint grooves his sword had left, his breath coming in ragged gasps. This was hopeless.

Desperation gnawed at him, and an idea sparked. He glanced over at Lord Thorne, who sat silently watching, his unreadable eyes fixed on the horizon. Sid swallowed his pride and walked over.

“Lord Thorne,” Sid began, his voice hesitant. “May I borrow your sword? The one you used against the bandits?”

Thorne blinked, clearly not expecting the question. For a moment, there was silence, as if the request itself baffled him. Then, for the first time since they’d met, Thorne looked genuinely surprised. “My sword?”

“Yes,” Sid nodded earnestly. “Mine isn’t enough to cut through that tree. I need something stronger.”

Thorne regarded him with a raised eyebrow. The man’s expression was difficult to read, but it was clear he hadn’t anticipated this. “You think a better sword will solve your problem?”

Sid straightened. “I... I think it will help.”

Thorne said nothing for a long moment, then, with a sigh, he stood and walked over to his belongings. He didn’t offer his primary sword, the one that had effortlessly cut down the bandits, but instead handed Sid a large, spare blade. It was a massive weapon, far heavier than Sid had anticipated. The weight alone nearly pulled him off balance when he took it.

“This blade is not my main one,” Thorne said calmly. “It’s heavy and cumbersome, especially for someone of your... stature.” There was a subtle challenge in his tone, a test to see if Sid would falter.

Sid’s hands trembled as he gripped the hilt, trying to balance the sword in front of him. “Thank you, my lord,” he muttered, though doubt seeped into his voice. The blade felt impossibly heavy, and the task now seemed even more daunting than before. Thorne watched him with mild amusement, no doubt expecting failure.

“You have two days left,” Thorne said simply before walking away, leaving Sid alone with the task.

---

The second day arrived, and Sid was back at the oak, the massive sword now strapped to his back. He slashed, hacked, and swung with everything he had, but the tree remained stubbornly upright. His strikes barely left more than scratches, shallow grooves etched into the bark.

The sun climbed high in the sky, and Sid’s arms screamed in protest. His muscles burned with fatigue, and every swing felt heavier than the last. He couldn’t stop, though. He wouldn’t stop. Not when so much depended on it.

Thorne observed from a distance, his expression unreadable. Sid wondered what he was thinking. Did he see the effort? The determination? Or did he only see the futility of Sid’s actions?

By the end of the second day, the tree still stood tall, mocking Sid’s every attempt. His body ached, and exhaustion weighed down his limbs like lead. He collapsed onto the ground, panting heavily, staring up at the towering oak that refused to fall. How was he supposed to cut it down when he couldn’t even make a dent?

---

As the third and final day dawned, Sid knew his time was running out. Lord Thorne would leave soon, and with him would go Sid’s only chance at training, at becoming strong enough to change his fate. He needed something more, something beyond strength alone.

He stood before the tree, the massive sword in hand, and closed his eyes. He tried to push away the doubt, the exhaustion, the frustration. He needed to focus. He needed to remember.

When you face an impossible task, continue. His father’s words echoed again in his mind. Sid’s heart pounded in his chest, and for a brief moment, he felt something stir within him—a flicker of something beyond mere determination. A memory, perhaps. A forgotten instinct.

He breathed deeply, steadying himself, and then... there it was. A flash. A blue light danced behind his eyelids, shimmering like the reflection of water on a blade. He could see it, faint but clear—a slash of light, a pattern etched into his mind.

His eyes snapped open, and the world seemed to slow. The oak tree stood before him, but this time, it wasn’t just an obstacle. It was... something else. Something waiting to be undone.

Sid tightened his grip on the sword, his muscles screaming in protest, but he didn’t care. He could see the pattern now, clear as day, and without wasting another moment, he slashed with everything he had.

A brilliant arc of blue light followed his blade, trailing through the air. The sword seemed to hum in his hands, and the next thing he knew, the tree groaned, its trunk splitting with an ear-splitting crack.

Thorne, who had begun to turn his back on Sid, froze in his tracks. His head whipped around, eyes wide with shock as the tree shuddered, then slowly began to fall. The mighty oak crashed to the ground with a thunderous roar, its massive form lying in two perfect halves.

For a moment, there was only silence.

Sid stood panting, disbelief washing over him as he stared at the fallen tree. He had done it. Somehow, against all odds, he had cut it in half.

Thorne approached slowly, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the scene. He glanced at Sid, then back at the tree, as if trying to comprehend what had just happened.

“You...” Thorne began, his voice uncharacteristically uncertain. “You actually did it.”

Sid said nothing, too exhausted to respond. He could barely keep himself upright, his body on the verge of collapse. But there was a quiet triumph in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of what he had just accomplished.

Thorne, still shocked, stared at Sid for a long moment. Then, with a deep breath, he nodded, a rare hint of respect in his gaze.

“Very well,” Thorne said quietly. “You’ve earned it. I will take you as my apprentice.”

Sid's heart raced, a mixture of joy and disbelief flooding his senses.