I faced my father in the sparring basement. He took a ready stance, eyes watching for me to make a move. I held his gaze for a few moments longer, and then obliged.

My hooves charged forward, and my hands slashed a practice sword towards my dad. He met the strike with his own, and I found myself losing the exchange. A counterattack followed before I could react, and a wooden stab slammed into my unarmored guts.

I coughed, and saliva came out. My vision blurred red as I glared at my enemy. I’m stronger than this, and you would be no match if I just unleashed it all!

I breathed hard, and gradually calmed down. I was grateful that my dad made no mention of the ugly frown that must've formed on my face. My temper was still an issue that sometimes popped up, but especially so for occasions like this.

"Again." I cracked my neck, felt the pain in my belly already fading away, and then revealed the strain building through my limbs. I released that mass of tension and struck with a wrathful might that wasn't present before. It was as if thunder had struck when our blows collided, the wooden greatswords bounced off each other, and then my dad recovered well before I did.

I saw his slash coming, but I could do nothing as it sent a lance of pain jolting through my shoulder. My dad then had the gall to look worried as I snarled, as if this was not his fault and his doing! This was of course an unreasonable line of thought, because I literally asked for this training, and he was even reluctant. So I remained in control of my actions despite the sheer wrath pounding through my head as I gradually came down from my dangerous high.

If I were to look for a silver lining, then this was some really good practice for managing my wrath instincts.

“Haell, are you okay? Should we stop?”

“No. Let’s continue. Please.”

I lifted my sword in front of my face, and then charged again against an opponent far more experienced. I slammed myself over and over against this immovable wall that was my father, unwilling to give up no matter how much I was knocked down. At first, I lost almost immediately every single time. If I go at it head-on, then Dad would deflect my slash in a way that left me vulnerable for a counter. If I tried to be tricky, then I would only end up cornering myself as I wasted too much movement and gave Dad an opportunity to bring me down. Time especially was not on my side, as while I could almost get close to holding my own against him in sheer power with the help of magic, my dad had unimaginably more stamina than I did. I tried to use a mini-ritual once to truly match him in strength, and he just went on the defensive for a few swings, easily deflecting my stronger strikes, before incapacitating me once my movements grew sloppy.

“That’s dangerous,” he commented with a worried frown. “I’ve seen you fight, and that power is absurd for someone of your size and level, but it comes with a price.”

“I know that!” I spat, then more softly. “I know that.”

“Alright. Good. But you can’t keep fighting with injuries like that. We’ll call it a day for today.”

~~~

A few more days passed as I sparred and trained with my Dad. I watched how he handled himself, which seemed so far removed and superior to what I’d seen of him until now. I had finally gotten him to fight me seriously, but paradoxically, that only made the gap between us seem even wider.

“Again,” I announced, already sweating from many prior spars. I flexed my legs and charged, having concluded that a frontal assault was truly the best option for a demon like me. Our wooden swords clashed and met, then they bounced off, almost as if repelled. That was on purpose, for I had become well aware that I would completely lose a prolonged push each and every time. My dad was also more agile, he was able to react quicker and aim for the finisher, but this time I was able to recover fast enough to meet his follow-up.

The blow still sent me reeling, my legs quaked from the strain, but I knew that my dad would not let up on the pressure, so I hurriedly fixed my stance to deflect his next strike.

We exchanged a few more blows like that, I was forced on the defensive, until I finally fucked up and got hit hard on my side. It was another loss, I crumpled to the ground, this was the best I could do right now.

It was a truly humbling experience to see the full extent of the power that my father had been holding back against me whenever we had sparred before. It was also infuriating, and my ego raged at every single humiliating loss, but not once did I allow myself to lose control. Perhaps I'd miss this someday, to be able to get this much out of a spar with my dad when I had finally overtaken him. But perhaps that would be fine too, so he could finally retire and rest.

“I think for the first time, I’m glad that I took up the sword. I feel passionate about it,” my father had said yesterday, after a quick break where we ate enough to feed a dozen peasants. “If it means I’m able to teach you what you need to take on this world, then perhaps it was all worth it in the end.”

In truth, if we truly fought to the death, then I would already be able to face him on even ground. I had far more tricks than my swordsmanship, and each one was lethal and dangerous in their own way. One could even argue that I was good enough at the sword, for I was a demon who had far more abilities competing for my attention. Who could blame me for falling behind in one particular skill, when I had so many more?

But ‘enough’ was not enough.

Even Therick was able to surpass me in sheer skill, where I had once been stronger.

There were so many excuses I could make; from how he was naturally more agile, to how the human brain was better suited to learning and improving new skills; but I would not make them.

This was a weakness, and I would overcome it.

I am a fucking demon, and I will not let a single drop of power go to waste.

"Hey Dad. Can we take a short break?" I said, still panting and sweating on the floor.

"Of course," he smiled, sweating even heavier than I. That just meant he was getting his energy back faster. "We can call it quits anytime."

"No, not quits." I shook my head and sat in the lotus position. "I just had a great idea."

"Right." His scary features morphed into a mirthful grin. "That isn't worrying at all."

"Oh come off it," I rolled my terrifying goat-like eyes. "My ideas aren't that bad. You should see the things Moonwash can come up with!"

He hummed an agreement, but he didn’t sound convinced!

"Ugh." I chuckled and sunk deep into meditation. I noticed that Dad was content to just sit silently on the ground while I focused. "You could um, go up. This'd take a while."

Dad nodded and ascended the steps.

I closed my eyes once he was gone, and felt for that feeling just out of reach. Information flooded from my memory core and towards my brain, but none of it coherent. I searched through that chaotic sea of memories, and it was like reading through a thousand books superimposed against each other. I projected the image of the scene I wanted, and what I got in response was a memory of me as an 8-year-old child, still a human, sparring against Fiya. I snorted, and tried again. The next one was with my father, but it was still that of a long time ago, back when I was not even half as tall as I was now. The next was more recent... but that was when I seriously attacked and tried to kill him, back when I just got my infernal heart. Finally, after many more iterations, I found just what I was looking for.

The memory of our most recent spar.

I relived the experience again, as if it was truly happening in this moment. Some of the wrath I felt back then echoed back into me now, and I had to struggle to keep my focus. I continued to replay that same spar, then all of our recent ones. With an objective eye, I examined my form and my posture, my strategies and mistakes, in all of those fights. I saw it all from a first-person perspective.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

That limited the breadth of information I had access to, and I had the idea to leave some mirrors lying around. Maybe I could replace all of our walls with it, like some kind of dancing studio. Glass was difficult to make, but it was made possible with magic and money. It'd be easier to find some in the coastal cities, so maybe I should try to get some when we go on our trial expedition there.

My eyes snapped open, once I was satisfied with the memories I had relived. I stood back up and grabbed my sword, making sure to keep my mental images fresh.

Here, in the middle of my mother’s basement, I redid the stances and movements that I did during my earlier spars with my father. I felt where my balance may have been off, and then I adjusted. I imagined what tactics I could have chosen to do instead, and then I adjusted. I focused on the basic movements that I should've already known, and then I adjusted.

Who needs to recognize patterns, when I can just replay my exact memories like this?

For every disadvantage that I had, there were so many more advantages whose full potential I had yet to realize, let alone surpass. So in that way, I continued to practice and exist in an almost timeless fashion. I entered a trance as I learned, improved, and evolved as a person. I occasionally reaccessed my memory core, to relive every new iteration. New habits developed, my reflexes flexed into new forms, and I grew exponentially as a fighter. I was stronger now than I was at the start of this day, and I would be stronger again in just a few seconds more.

I didn’t know if I could call this a part of being a demon. But it was definitely a part of being Haell Zharignan.

~~~

"Hello, Haell." Moonwash's voice snapped me out of my trance, and she did not come alone.

"Hi!" Berry awkwardly wobbled down the stairs. They just weren't made with her kind in mind. Maybe we should do something about that, if she planned to visit this often. "Back at it again, Haell? I don't get how you can work so hard at it, but I'm inspired!"

I chuckled, happy that things had not become awkward between us, and then promptly fell on my butt. It looks like I'd been at it for longer than I thought. My girlfriend came over to check on me, then nodded once she’d decided that I was okay, and was just being my usual silly self. Today’s dinner was a whole pot of aligya, a kind of soup and pasta type of dish preferred by the crustecar people. I suspected Berry had helped prepare it.

"This is your food," Moonwash said, handing me a bowl.

"Wow. Amazing. I learn something new every day.”

We looked at each other with equally blank faces, before I finally cracked.

"I'm kidding. I'll go eat this. And thank you!"

"You're welcome."

We chatted as we ate, and we were soon joined by my parents as they came down carrying their own trays of food. They had brought trays of other food, and I sneaked in a few bites of their own meals. The sheer volume of blood I had to be replaced, in addition to my regeneration needs that had only gotten worse. Therefore, my actions were justified. Mom and Dad only smiled at my theft.

"I thought we'd spar later?" Dad asked cheekily.

"Yeah... I got carried away." I shrugged and took a big bite out of a froggior burger in my left hand. "Oh, but we totally still can!"

I grabbed my practice sword with my other hand and looked at the ruined piece of wood, utterly chipped and dented by the spars I and my dad had done earlier. We'd used some really high-quality wood made by Baston, but it was still wood at the end of the day, and not enhanced by a living organism nor the active use of nature magic.

"Can I see your practice sword, Dad?"

"Hm? Why?"

"Nothing. I just noticed something. It could be just because you're stronger, but aren't these damages on my sword just so... smooth and clean?" I gestured with my burger toward several cuts and chips. I was no stranger to ruined sparring swords before, but the damages sustained here seemed to be more what I'd expect if my opponent's sword was actually sharp and made of metal.

Even my clothes had some cuts here and there, but I supposed my dad did hold back just before hitting me.

"No," my dad answered. "It's probably... my anatomic mastery."

"I knew it!" I blurted out, and then covered my mouth after several pieces of meat and bread had flown out. "Sorry. I got excited there. But why didn't you tell me you had one!"

“I’m not that good at it,” he sighed. “This much is my limit, and that’s after so many years of trying. It only came out now because you’ve gotten a lot stronger, and I actually had to take you seriously.” He smiled, which looked a bit slanted on his scarier features, but I felt warmed regardless. “I’m proud of you, Haell. You’ve really done well for yourself.”

“I see… Well, I think you’re super cool anyway! The coolest dad in the world!” I finished my burger and waited as he actually shed a tear because of my words. “So, how does it work? Anatomic mastery I mean?”

“Well, I’m not very good at it as mentioned, so don’t expect anything crazy. But it’s basically about just doing swordsmanship better after doing it for so long?”

“It isn’t only about swordsmanship, or weapons, or even combat in general.” Moonwash clarified as she drank a whole mug of bisorn milk. “The theory of anatomic mastery is about the mana inherently present in everything, including our bodies, and how it could aid us in certain actions, particularly noticeable in combat skills, if we’re able to go beyond mastery over a certain thing.”

“I see. So if I fling literal shit at people enough times, I would be able to fling shit at people better?”

“That’s the theory. However, I’ve never heard of an anatomic mastery for such a thing before. Please do it, Haell. I want to see the result. Resonate with that shit.”

I guffawed. “Fuck off.”

“It’s a very rare skill,” Mom chimed in once I was done laughing at flinging shit. At the idea of flinging shit. I wasn’t actually flinging shit at people... “I’ve only seen like… maybe four people who’ve had it. It’s hard to even know they do, because if something is made just a little bit sharper during combat then well… How do you know it’s not just a sharper sword? The only time I’ve really seen it utilized noticeably is by the swordreaper.”

“Oooh! The Swordreaper! I’ve heard about her. It’s such a cool nickname.”

“It is, isn't it?” Mom smiled. “But it’s not just for show. I saw her once before, and her every slash traveled outwards for dozens of meters. A slicing shockwave of sorts was created, and she could cut down whole swathes of enemies with a single slash.”

“Your grandpa should also know it,” Dad said. “He's explained it to me before when he taught me, but apparently you could get a myriad of different effects by obtaining an anatomic mastery. Most who even manage to get one just use it for making their every slash sharper, or they could choose to parry better. My father has more chosen to focus on the basics and fundamentals.”

“Oh. Can you not get both? All?”

“Well, you can. It’s just very difficult.”

“I’ve heard that it takes an inordinate amount of time and talent to be able to do one thing with anatomic mastery,” Mom elaborated. “And it’s something that can be honed further and further, which is an easier process than doing an entirely new thing, but probably adds to your total combat potential more than trying to do everything. Not that I would know given that I’m primarily a mage… or maybe I do. My magic does get better and better the more I practice, and who knows if certain such concepts are at work. Magic is weird, anything mana in general is weird, and then there are also Mutations and just the natural development then deterioration of the body. Unless you’re really good at it, it’s super hard to tell if you’re even making progress with your anatomic mastery.”

“There are theories about how you are making progress no matter what you do. It’s just so miniscule of an improvement that you can’t tell,” Moonwash said. “Like Haell flinging shit for example.”

Berry had looked a little lost during this conversation so far, but she chose those particular words to bob a nod towards.

“I am not doing that!” I protested. “But that’s all very interesting! I’ve done a lot of repetitive practice, so have I tapped into an anatomic mastery already? Hell, humans are very good at pattern recognition, and I know just how much easier it was to practice with that kind of brain. Maybe it works for anatomic mastery too?”

“Now that you mention it…” Dad hedged, “all the people I know for certain that have it are humans…”

“Dang,” Mom fumed. “I’d be fu–very mad if magic wasn’t benefitting from this!!”

“Fuck yeah!”

“Language, Haell! But I guess you’re an adult now…”

“Eh, it’s not a big deal to try and avoid it sometimes. But it’s just not me.”

“Yeah, I understand that. Thank you for at least indulging me when you were a child. I don’t… I don’t know why I even did that. I guess I just really wanted you to experience being a child, but the way I expressed it was more similar to how I was raised than I cared to admit at the time.”

“It’s fine, Mom.” I smiled at her. “It was more funny than anything, so it’s all good. And I never felt forced or anything, there was never any consequence if I cursed. It was… just a request. And I chose to honor it.”

“Oh yeah, of course. I wouldn’t have grounded you or anything! And thank you Haell, for allowing me that. But since we are all adults here and now…”

“““FUCK!”””

We all chorused, and it was beautiful.