The golden rays of the sun lit up the vast training grounds of Rhazgord. The sky was clear blue, free of clouds and sparkling. The air was warm and comfortable with a light breeze. The young men between the ages of 10 and 14, who had just finished their training, were lined up around the training ground, watching the fight from the dry grasses crushed under their feet on the dirt floor. Each of them was attentive so as not to miss this moment. They were intrigued that the old instructor was training one in particular. For the warriors of the Rhazgord, this was no ordinary fight on an ordinary day; this was a clash of two different worlds.

Belisarius, in his borrowed thin armour, glared at his hulking opponent. His opponent towered before him like a mountain, with his massive muscles and powerful stance. The sun shone on the broad surface of his opponent's sword, making him look even more menacing. Belisarius' sword was sleeker and lighter, a skilfully crafted weapon, sharp on both sides. His opponent's sword was heavy, broad and an instrument of death designed for brute force.

Belisarius had learnt the art of the sword late in life. His musculature paled in comparison. But he had one advantage: The Stone of Light. Since childhood, he had consumed the power of this rare stone. The energy of the stone permeated his body, giving him extraordinary strength and endurance. His opponent had only tasted this power a few times. No matter how impressive his muscles and size, he was no match for the power within Belisarius.

The first move began with the clash of two swords. The metallic sound of steel rubbing against steel echoed in the sun. Belisarius' seemingly weak arms struggled against the massive muscles of his opponent. His opponent could not understand how this scrawny man could exhibit such strength, and surprise appeared in his eyes. However, this astonishment did not break his determination to fight, on the contrary, it made him even more ambitious.

The swords swung one after the other, each blow following the other. Belisarius danced around his opponent with fast and sharp attacks, not giving him a moment to catch his breath. His opponent, on the other hand, deftly held his sword in a defensive position, meeting each attack in time. Both warriors understood each other's strength and skill, but the fight had reached a stalemate. Each was trying to find the other's opening, but could not gain the upper hand.

Belisarius was too quick and agile to give his opponent any chance. His opponent, however, was an experienced warrior and his defence was excellent. As the fight dragged on, it attracted the attention of the surrounding soldiers. The sound of clashing swords echoed in the open air, creating an atmosphere where everyone held their breath.

Belisarius lost his balance for a moment. Perhaps from fatigue, perhaps from a moment of carelessness. His opponent did not miss this opportunity. He swung his sword at Belisarius with all his might. The blow knocked Belisarius down hard. The earth welcomed Belisarius' body with a warm embrace. The soldiers around him looked at each other in silence. The old instructor had already predicted the outcome of the fight and nodded his head slowly as he saw his prediction come true. The sun shone brightly on Belisarius' body lying on the ground, but that did not mean that he had won the battle.

Belisarius struggled to his feet, slowly recovering his slumped body. His breathing quickened and fatigue weighed heavily on his body. As the younger warriors gathered around him watched his efforts in silence, the old instructor approached the Rhazgord warrior with heavy steps. The instructor had a wise expression on his face, his eyes fixed on the warrior's eyes. He spoke in a low voice in the Rhazgord language, his voice full of experience, but at the same time stern and full of determination. The warrior listened attentively to the instructor's words, then began to walk towards Belisarius.

His opponent's footsteps echoed on the dirt floor. As Belisarius shook off the dust from his body, his opponent came up to him and looked at him briefly. The sunlight hit the warrior's sweat-soaked face, revealing the depth of expression in his eyes. "Good!" his opponent said in Adler language. The word was simple and short, but the meaning was deep. It was clear that the warrior was not familiar enough with the Adler language, but that one word was enough to express his intentions. Belisarius knew exactly what his opponent meant by the expression on his face. It was a sign of respectful acceptance. They shook hands in silence, then the warrior saluted the old instructor and returned to the soldiers who had been chastised for interrupting their training and distracting them from the fight.

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When Belisarius approached the old instructor, the man looked at him intently. As his eyes swept over Belisarius' tired but determined face, he sighed deeply. "how many times have you consumed the Light Stone?" he asked, his voice full of curiosity but not judgement.

Belisarius lowered his eyes to the ground as he answered this question. He knew that if he had not consumed so many Stones of Light, he would not have been able to withstand his opponent for even a few seconds. Embarrassed, he said in a low voice, "More than twenty times." he said. This was an amount that even the heirs of free kingdoms had difficulty reaching. Considering the economic and political situation in the Kingdom of Adler, it was clear that Belisarius' father had spent a considerable amount of money on him.

The old instructor shook his head slightly, looking at his embarrassed state. "There is no need to be ashamed of consuming the Stone of Light." he said, his voice soft but firm. "Maybe you wouldn't have lasted this long if you hadn't consumed the Stone of Light, but you are certainly skilful. To have mastered your fighting techniques so well in only two years is to be respected."

Belisarius felt a warmth in his heart when he heard those words. The instructor's praise was a great source of morale for him. But the old man's words did not end there. "I'm afraid I can't comment on your techniques," he added. "If I try to correct your movements, I may damage your foundation. Do you remember I told you that I have met your ancestors before?"

'Yes, sir!' Belisarius replied, standing straight, like a soldier impressed by the seriousness of the occasion.

The old instructor took a deep breath and continued. "There is an important difference between you and the emperor I met then. That man was not a warrior, but he had the eyes of a warrior. You, with a little more training, can become a real warrior, but you do not have the eyes of a warrior. That is what you need."

Belisarius felt the weight of the old instructor's words on his shoulders. The words "warrior's eyes" kept running round and round in his mind. He could not fully grasp the meaning behind the words, but he sensed that it was more than just physical strength and technique. The instructor's words had taken him on a journey deep into his inner world. This was not only a matter of fighting, but also of inner development.

The old instructor noticed that Belisarius was deep in thought and gave him some time. Then he came closer to him and continued to speak, lowering his voice. "The warrior's eyes," he said, "must be clear, not only when looking at his enemy, but also when looking at himself. A true warrior uses not only his sword, but also his soul. In his heart burns the fire of battle, but it is not an uncontrolled rage, but a focussed will. You must gain that will, Belisarius."

Belisarius listened intently to the instructor's words. He was trying to understand; this will, perhaps, was not just for fighting, but a stance against all the hardships of life. The instructor was trying to mould him not only into a warrior, but also into a leader.

"You have consumed the Stone of Light twenty times," the old man continued. "It may have strengthened your body, but has it strengthened your soul? You must ask yourself that question. The Stone of Light gives you physical strength, but the real power comes from the will within you. You must find your inner warrior spirit. It is not only about defeating your enemy, but also about defeating yourself."

Belisarius paused for a moment at the profundity of these words. The instructor was right; so far he owed much of his strength to the Stone of Light. But being a true warrior was not only about physical strength, but also about inner strength. This was a new level of realisation for him.

Belisarius nodded, fuelled by the instructor's words. A new determination had sprouted within him. He would not only improve his techniques; he would also create a warrior's spirit. Taking the instructor's words as a guide, he was determined to continue on this path. That day was not only the end of a fight for Belisarius, but also the beginning of a journey.

Although Belisarius thought his training was over, it was not as he had hoped. As he turned to leave the training grounds, the voice of the old instructor was heard. "I'm sure I told Corvus he could pick you up when the training was over."he looked at the sun. "I see there is still time." he said.

While Belisarius was searching with his eyes for Corvus to save him, the old instructor was choosing Belisarius' new opponent.