Sion steps out into the training grounds. General Shard joyfully approaches him, his hands behind his back.

“Sion boy, I had a great idea for your training today.” Behind the old general are a group of awestruck soldiers. Their armor is plaintive and unadorned. “I got ten strapping new recruits for you to fight.” One of the soldiers steps forward nervously.

“Err, General, is he,” the soldier points towards Sion, “really the training partner you selected for us?” General Shard looks at him.

“Do you think this’ll be too easy for you?” The soldier almost flinches at the latent pressure behind the general’s words.

“Err, sort of? We feel like the ten of us ganging up against him just won’t be fair.” The general looks towards the rest of the soldiers.

“Really. Do you all feel this way?” A wave of anxiety passes through the group of soldiers, but still they answer in unison,

“Yes sir!”

“All of you line up. Stand at attention.” The soldiers look slightly confused and even a little annoyed at the order, but they line up with their backs straight and their bodies unmoving. “Listen well. War is not fair. Fighting on a battlefield like you’re some hero from a fairytale is the privilege of the strong. The most important thing on the battlefield is to come home alive and well. Until you don’t have any other option, you fight to protect your own lives. If you can win a battle with numbers, you do. The weak don’t have time to think about their honor. And even then you need to forget your pride that makes you think a fight will be easy just because you outnumber the enemy. You never know what your enemy might be hiding away. Even in my old age, if all this year’s recruits came at me at once, I would still win. Remember that for as long as you intend to fight for this kingdom. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir!”

“Good, then prepare to fight.”

The ten soldiers, like ten mirrors, ready their spears. They form up into two orderly ranks, six in the front and four in the back. As though they were on the battlefield, they march forward slowly, prepared to engage with the enemy when they meet. The points of four spears emerge from the back row, each prepared to stab forward from safety. Although they were told how to fight by the general and went through the motions of seriousness, the soldiers still looked down on Sion. They couldn’t conceive of a lone man defeating all ten of them, and didn’t have enough experience to have a fear of death to tell them how to fake it.

Sion flies forward at his opponents. Whereas they move methodically and with a certain level of organization, he is free and quick, unfaltering before his disadvantageous position. He jumps at the group just as they reach him. The soldiers fumble their spears with uncertainty in their surprise, with the rear four barely even beginning to lift the spearheads. Sion crashes into one of the center soldiers of the front row with his knee. He presses his knee into the soldier’s face and pushes him to the ground between the two soldiers behind him. The two soldiers back away, allowing both their comrade to fall to the ground and Sion to land behind them. Sion lands with his back to the soldiers, taking a moment to reorient himself and make distance between them. Although such an opportune moment had presented itself, not a single one of the soldiers took any step to seize it. Sion had left himself open, yet as if the soldiers hadn’t even realized, he closed himself off again with ease.

With a hole bored through them so easily, the unprepared soldiers fall out of their ranks. The remaining nine form smaller pairs and trios, losing their previous coordination. Two stragglers remain as Sion locks target. Sion dashes forward, keeping his large body close to the ground. As he rushes towards the nearer of the two soldiers left on their own, Sion passes by the trio of soldiers. As Sion passes by, the soldier lunges forward and stabs with his spear. The spearhead plants itself in the ground behind Sion as he proceeds one-mindedly. The lone soldier raises his sword above his head, preparing to bring it down on Sion just as he enters the range. Sion fast approaches. The soldier holds steady, trying to calm his nerves. As he begins to bring down his blade, Sion appears beneath him. Sion slams his palm into the soldier’s armored stomach, forcing the soldier back with all his might. As the soldier curls up and begins to fall, his grip loosens and the sword drops from his hands. As the sword clatters, the soldier is on the ground trying to steady his breath, a crease in his armor showing where Sion had struck him. Sion rises, straightening his back, as he begins scanning the area for the other straggler.

Sion locks on and rushes forward. Blocking his path are the remaining two pairs of soldiers. As he passes by the first in line, the soldiers both take swings with their blades. Sion ducks beneath both slashes and keeps running beneath the metal, paying the soldiers no mind. As he passes by the second, the soldiers brandish their spears. One juts out their spear to obstruct the path as the other stabs at Sion. Sion reaches forward without stopping and slaps the spearhead into the ground with the back of his hand. His comrade nullified, the other soldier begins to pull back the spear, hoping to hook into Sion during the return. Sion, however, flips over the shaft, rolling past the two soldiers. Sion keeps running, gently twisting his torso. As he nears, the soldier takes a defensive posture, holding the whole length of his spear over his body. Sion twists violently in the opposite direction, carrying his leg into the air. He spins as he drops his upper body. Sion brings down the top of his foot onto the soldier’s shoulder. The soldier tries to block the strike with his spear, but is only pushed back by the whole force of Sion’s attack. As Sion’s kick crashes down into the soldier, the soldier buckles and falls to the ground, forced down by Sion’s overwhelming might. As he brings his legs back into line, Sion has already turned to face the remaining soldiers.

The two pairs begin to charge Sion in a panic as the trio stand by, observing. The faster of the two spear wielding soldiers commits to a charging thrust. As the spear flies out towards Sion, he grabs the shaft just beneath the head. He seizes control of the weapon from the soldier, then forces the shaft into its wielder’s stomach. As the soldier recoils, Sion raises his leg straight into the air. He kicks the soldier in the jaw, sending the soldier’s helmet flying. The other soldier then reaches Sion and his comrade. His thrust is deep, overextending to deliver as much force into Sion as possible. As the dulled spearpoint collides with Sion’s stomach, he looses his leg. He drops his heel down onto the back of the soldier. He forces the soldier into the ground with a loud metallic thud, soon followed by the sound of the helmet ringing out as it hits the ground beside the two fallen soldiers.

Sion charges the other approaching pair. Sion moves in quickly and grabs the closer soldier’s armored face. His long arm bends back as he draws closer to the soldier. The soldier grabs hold of Sion’s wrist and tries to pull it from his face, but he cannot surpass Sion’s iron grip. Sion stretches his leg forward past the soldier, then hooks behind the soldier’s own leg and begins to pull back. Pushed from both sides and losing his balance, the soldier begins to fall to the ground. Sion never let's go. He wants to make sure that the soldier is brought down with force. Sion then feels a strong blow against his exposed back and shoulder. The other soldier had taken the opportunity presented as one would expect, but Sion doesn’t regard the strike in the slightest. As Sion brings the soldier in his grasp to the ground, he feels another strike on his back from the dulled edge of the blade. From his lower position on the ground, Sion turns and begins to rise, driving his fist into the soldier’s stomach as he does. Once Sion is standing once again, he sweeps the soldier’s leg, dropping him beside his comrade.

At last Sion begins to rush down the final three soldiers. Despite being the largest group of the disorderly soldiers, they were powerless to stop Sion as he dashed around the training ground. They were only capable of standing around and watching as he brought down each of their allies with a strength that far surpassed their own. However, they still stand prepared, their weapons brandished tightly, their eyes straight ahead. Sion closes the distance quickly, and they all take quick stabs and slashes at him. Sion again shrugs off each blow, still refusing to regard a single one. Sion throws a quick straight punch towards one of the soldiers, striking his chest as the sound of metal rings out. As another soldier attempts to slash at Sion, Sion pulls on the soldier he had struck. The soldier’s blade misses its mark, instead striking his ally, used as a shield by Sion. Sion then moves in between the two soldiers and the one in his grip. He throws the soldier over his shoulder and into the two others. However, only one of the soldiers is hit by their comrade. As metal crashes into metal, the third and final soldier takes a step back, looks at Sion, then looks at his two comrades on the ground. He drops his spear.

“I surrender.” General Shard steps between Sion and the soldier, his face tight.

“Then this match is over. All of you gather up and stand at attention.” The ten soldiers stand back up and gather in front of General Shard. They salute, then lower their arms to stand shoulder to shoulder in one straight line. “First,” he points his covered blade at the soldier who had surrendered, “why did you surrender at the end?”

“Sir! I decided that I had no chance to defeat him!” The old general doesn’t move.

“And why did you figure that?”

“I knew I couldn’t compete with him in either strength or skill after watching him take us all down, sir!”

“Then why were you still ready to fight before he had first engaged?”

“We believed we still had a chance if it was three against one, sir!”

“If you understand that much then you ought to understand this. You all had lost any chance of victory the moment your formation broke and you all scattered. You could only ever compete with numbers. The moment you lost that, you lost all hope.” General Shard lowers his sword. “You all are dismissed. Return to your regular training drills.” Sion and the general wait, watching as the ten soldiers leave the grounds. Once they’ve left, the general turns towards Sion and unsheathes his sword, smacking Sion’s head with the flat of his blade.

“Sion boy, what was that? It was shameful. Taking hits just because you can? Utterly shameful. A warrior’s skill isn’t measured by how many scars they have but by how few. You didn’t need to take even a single one of those blows, you just got lazy and cut corners. No matter how strong you are, every hit adds up, and eventually they’ll kill you.” Sion looks down, eyes full of shame. He does not refute General Shard, does not even respond, he simply hangs his head. “Sion boy, do you know this saying? ‘Even the Great King Bana would have had another unmarked grave if all he thought about was dragon slaying.’ Until you can show me that you understand why I’m telling you this saying, I won’t let you and Scima boy fight.” The old general places a hand on Sion’s head. “Until you can find an answer, it may help to spend time in the city.” General Shard turns from Sion and walks off, leaving Sion on his own.

Sion walks out from the castle gate and into the city. He, as he had yesterday, weaves through the crowds of people. However, he now has no direction. Supposedly, being in the city will help him find an answer, but he barely knows the question.

He of course understands the proverb, that greatness cannot be born through only force. Historically, there were dragonslayers besides Bana, predating him, contemporary to him, and succeeding him. However, few of their names are still known today, and none with as much esteem as Bana. Bana’s legacy is not of a warrior, but of a king, and therefore the proverb means that regardless of Bana’s martial prowess, he wouldn’t have his legacy if he didn’t create a kingdom as he went. However, Bana still fought, he fought with all his heart, and he fought so that he could become a king. Sion fought to win. He’s figured that he’s likely meant to be looking for something inside of himself, for something that General Shard feels he’s still missing as a warrior. But he cannot piece together how that thing relates to the proverb. He cannot see where he and Bana differ in how they approach battle. Neither of them can afford to lose, and so both of them fight to win.

Sion hasn’t felt this lost since five years ago. Since he was shown the path before him and saw only darkness. Only this time no light is appearing to him. Sion continues to walk. Walking through the city and through the people. He walks away from the castle, stuck in his mind. He ruminates in silence, paying no other any mind. If he is lacking something, where will he find it? If he is missing something, what in the city will show it to him? Only focusing enough to dodge past the citizens of Clea, Sion is caught off guard by a thud close in front of him. It takes him out of his mind and back to reality.

In front of Sion is a young boy fallen on the ground, another watching while holding a ball in his hands, and a middle-aged man slumped against a wall. The man is watching with a disinterested expression, a gourd bearing a strange symbol in his muscular hand. Sion tries not to glare at the man as he bends down towards the child on the ground. Sion reaches his hand out to the boy.

“Can you stand up?” Sion asks the boy warmly. The boy takes Sion’s hand and stands. Now that they’re face to face, Sion can see tears welling up in the boy’s eyes. “Are you okay? Did you get hurt?” Sion asks the question even though he knows the answer. The boy nods, looking like he’s trying not to cry. “Can you show me where it hurts?” The boy nods again as he bends his elbow to show Sion. As the boy winces, Sion gently pulls his arm straight. Sion stares at the injury deeply. After examining the injury, Sion can tell that it’s almost certainly nothing more than a normal scrape. It needs a little cleaning, but there’s nothing that bad otherwise. “Are you hurt anywhere else?” Sion glances down towards the boy’s scraped knee. The boy responds, the pain in his voice clear.

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“I hurt my knee too.” Sion smiles gently as he looks at the scraped knee. Just as with the elbow, there’s nothing serious to worry about. Sion rubs the boy’s head.

“There’s nothing to worry about. You just need to wash these off a little and cover them, then you should be good as new in just a couple of days. Can you do that by yourself? Or do you want me to help?” The boy shakes his head.

“I can do it. Thank you mister.” The boy is still holding back tears. Sion pats the boy’s head again.

“That’s good. You’re really strong, you know that.” As Sion lifts his hand, the boy starts to walk away. He walks slowly, with a slight limp, holding his elbow. The other boy follows after him, a slightly abated worry on his face. As the two boys walk away, the gentle smile disappears from Sion’s face. He approaches the man who sat there and watched. The man lowers the gourd from his lips and looks at Sion without a care in the world.

“Good work out there, boy!” His voice is cheery and his body is still lax. Sion looks down at the man, irritation clear on his face.

“Why did you sit there and do nothing?” The man looks Sion up and down, then grins.

“Hey, hey, I knew you would handle it. So serious. So rigid. So tense. You in some kind of rush, boy?” Although the man irritates him, Sion cannot help but agree with him here. Rushing around without direction and without thinking is what he had been doing.

“That doesn’t matter. Why didn’t you help him? He was right in front of you but you didn’t even care.”

“‘Didn’t care?’ That’s not the least bit charitable, boy. I care just as much as anyone else. But, y’know, sometimes as adults you need to stay back and watch over children gently.”

“That’s just an excuse for your devil may care attitude. You’re sitting around on the streets drinking when it’s barely noon. Don’t pretend to be a proper adult.”

“I’m telling the truth here, boy, I swear! I wanted to see the young sprouts that will inherit the world I make. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Then why do you need to be drinking?”

“That kids can run around and hurt themselves is the sign of a good era and a good city. That’s something worth celebrating, isn’t it!” Sion says nothing, only looking down in irritation. “Boy, you really gotta believe me! I’m only in the city in the first place because I want to see the next generation!” Sion’s face softens in confusion. “Y’know, the princess is going to Sagax this year! I want to see what the face of Dracabana’s future looks like!” Now that Eva and Sagax have been mentioned, Sion is genuinely intrigued, to the point where he can’t even hide it. “Oh, boy, does that interest you? Then, as a responsible adult, I’ll tell you about it. Y’see, for a long time, Dracabana hasn’t sent a single person to Sagax. And the country is so small—practically just this one city—that every other nation has always been eyeing it up. Like hungry dogs they’ve been waiting for the opportunity to attack and take the whole thing. There’s always a chance that an invasion will start up at any moment. So, the princess attending Sagax is really important. If she’s strong and if she can form relationships with the other nations she could stop the wars for her entire lifetime. If she can’t, Dracabana will come to an end. She and whoever else might get sent—I’ve heard they’re sending a young knight too—need to prove their strength. They need to tell the rest of the world that they won’t go down without a fight. So really, I am only here to see the future of this country.”

Sion holds back a grimace as the importance of his training truly dawns on him. There are so many people who will be affected if he fails, but he’s just wandering around like a lost child. The man looks up at the downcast Sion and continues to speak. “Boy, you’re so tense and rigid. Even down to your soul. There’s no flow. None at all. Boy,” The man raises to his feet in one smooth motion, standing even taller than Sion as he takes a sip from his gourd, “you’re not disciplined or straitlaced, you’re a child. A child playing pretend at being an adult. Y’know, all work and no play makes a man weak, doubly so for boys. If you don’t think about taking care of yourself, don’t think about your fight, then you’ll just keep holding yourself back. Kids should be a little selfish and should act a little stupid, y’know. Really, I don’t think you should be holding anything back if you can help it.” The man takes another drink as he looks to the sky. “Well, it’s looking like it’s time for me to leave, boy. My name is Rebello Faegen. You can tell me yours once you’ve stopped being a little kid.” Rebello begins to walk away at a leisurely pace, taking sips from his gourd as he goes. Sion turns to watch his back.

“Rebello Faegen, I still don’t accept you, but I have to thank you for what you said to me.” Rebello gives a weak wave without turning back as Sion turns to the castle once more.

As Sion enters the gate of the castle, he turns off the path to the castle proper, instead opting to walk towards the outward facing entrance of the training grounds. Sion is sure that he has an answer for General Shard. Although he knows his answer is empty of what the general really wanted from him, he has an answer. He needs to fight Scima and he needs to keep training right away. He can’t let himself stay merely as strong as he is now. As Sion walks into the training ground and scans for General Shard, Scima spots Sion and walks up to him.

“You looking for the general? He’s looking for Theyni right now.”

“When will he be back?”

“No idea. See something out in the city?”

“I met an irritating man who sat around watching kids hurt themselves.”

“Wow, that’s no good. Is the kid okay?”

“I took care of it and it wasn’t anything serious.”

“So you’re good with kids, huh?”

“I helped look after all the younger kids in the village.”

“That’s nice. So your village is pretty tight-knit, huh?”

“Yeah.” Scima watches Sion’s gentle smile.

“Wanna have our fight now?”

“No, General Shard said he wouldn’t let me.”

“Bah. No point in listening to him when he’s not even here. We just gotta finish before he gets back and then we never tell him.”

“That’s wrong.”

“Is it really so wrong if nobody gets hurt? Don’t be such a stickler.” Sion doesn’t have a response. They both want to fight, and nobody will get hurt, but betraying the general’s trust is still wrong. Even then,

“Ok. Let’s fight.” Scima smiles as he starts walking into the center of the training ground. Sion follows him, and they stand facing each other.

“Here are the rules: first, no serious injuries; second, we fight until a surrender or a knockout; third, I won’t be using my magic. You can feel free to though.” Sion shakes his head without saying anything. As Sion assumes a stance, Scima places a hand on the pommel of his sword. “Let’s begin!”

Scima pulls his blade from the sheathe. He takes two large steps forward as he drags the blade out. As he draws it, he slashes at Sion. As the metal edge flies towards Sion’s face, he bends backwards. He flips over onto his hands as the sword swiftly moves over his body. His arms like springs, Sion throws himself behind Scima. As Sion lands, Scima’s stopped blade continues along a path. The dulled edge smashes into Sion’s side, catching him by surprise.

Sion side steps away from Scima, clutching his side. He pivots to face Scima as he removes his hand from his body. Quickly Scima closes the distance and makes another swing at Sion. However, rather than block the slash or dodge it as he had before, Sion closes the distance. As Sion steps deeply towards Scima, Scima tries to pull his arm back to realign the blade with Sion. Sion is simply too close, however, and Scima would never be able to strike him with this swing. As Scima sets his arm back for another attack, Sion grabs Scima’s collar. Before Scima can attack, Sion knees his stomach. As Scima recoils from the blow, Sion lets go of him. Sion raises his fists above his head, intending to bring them down on Scima.

From his lowered position, Scima stabs upwards at Sion’s chest. Seeing the attack clearly, Sion quickly unclenches his fists and grabs the blade. As Sion holds the sword in place, Scima swings his leg and smashes into Sion’s knee. Sion’s leg buckles from the force of the blow. Scima seizes the opening and wraps an arm around Sion’s chest and neck. Before Sion can recover his balance, Scima falls to the ground and drags Sion with him. Scima kneels on Sion’s body, still holding down his chest and shoulder with one hand, pinning him to the ground. Scima punches Sion once in the face before speaking to him with absolute confidence and a cockiness to his voice.

“Go ahead and surrender.” Sion looks unfazed.

Sion reaches up and grabs both of Scima’s shoulders. Even with Scima’s knee on his stomach and hand on his chest, he forces his head up, and slams it into Scima’s. As Scima recoils from the blow, he removes his hand, freeing Sion’s upper body. Now with both hands open, Sion grabs hold of Scima once more and throws him from his body. Scima falls to the side, off of Sion’s torso. Sion silently turns the tables as he pins down Scima and places a hand on his throat. Now on the ground, Scima makes a quippy remark.

“Guess I should’ve known better than to fight you on the ground, huh? And what’s with that monstrous strength? But, y’know, you’ve put yourself in a bad position. You can’t seriously hurt me, but I don’t feel like giving up. And even if I can’t swing my sword here, the general trained me so my entire body would be like a blade.” Scima straightens out his hand and thrusts it at Sion’s stomach with full force. Sion reacts instinctively and draws back, taking his weight off of Scima enough for him to escape. As the two of them stand back up, Scima taunts Sion. “Just kidding! Good thing you dodged, or that might’ve hurt!” Scima draws his blade as he speaks.

Sion dashes forward and reaches for the wrist of the hand holding the sword. Scima lets him grab it, but throws a punch into Sion’s stomach as he does so. Sion doubles over slightly at the blow, but takes another step closer to Scima while straightening out the held arm. Sion pushes into Scima’s chest with his palm, arm bent back, while still holding Scima’s arm straight. Scima’s face contorts in pain, but he does not stop fighting. He kicks Sion’s knee again, and again Sion buckles. Scima is able to use this moment to escape Sion’s grip and make distance between them. He resheathes his sword and stands in a stance, waiting for Sion with a smile on his face.

With his eyes, Sion can see magic gathering inside the sheathe. It glows with soft light as it disappears from sight. Sion begins to walk towards Scima, the wispy blue light of his soul magic gathering around his body. As Sion rears back his arm Scima begins to draw his blade. Light bursts out from the sliver of metal that’s been exposed. As they’re about to clash, a yell pierces through the air.

“Theyni! Get ready to heal these damn brats!” Theyni is caught off guard by the sudden order and declaration of violence.

“Huh!? Grandfather, what are you doing?!” As Sion and Scima draw near, General Shard cuts between them. Scima visibly begins to panic at his appearance. As he tries to stop moving, he pushes his sword back into the sheathe.

“Ah, general, you’re back. Sion has a matter to discuss with you, so I’ll be excusing myself.” As Scima tries to make his escape, Shard swings his sheathed blade at his legs, striking both knees several times in rapid succession. Scima falls over from the attack, leaving him open to getting pelted by blows. Scima lays on the ground, battered by the general. As General Shard turns his attention to Sion, he calls out to Theyni.

“Theyni dear, don’t try to heal Scima boy yet. Let him sit there and think for a bit.”

“Grandfather!” An exasperated Theyni calls out.

As General Shard walks towards Sion, Sion bows his head.

“General, I’m really sorry that I went against your orders.” General Shard brings down his sword once on Sion’s head, then twice on each shoulder.

“Sit down.” As Sion takes a seat on the ground, the general walks back to Scima and picks him up by his collar. He drops him on the ground next to Sion, then calls out to Theyni once more.

“Alright, Theyni dear, go ahead and heal them now.” An almost aghast Theyni crouches near the two of them and begins to heal. Sion heals quickly, and most of his injuries were from the actual fight. He doesn’t move the whole time, but when she finishes he quietly thanks her. On the other hand, Scima takes quite a bit longer as he got quite a bit larger of a beating. After some time spent healing, Scima sits up next to Sion with a smile still on his face.

“Thanks, Theyni!” General Shard rebukes Scima’s cheeriness.

“Scima boy, have you reflected at all? Do I need to hit you again?”

“No sir.” Scima responds solemnly. As she continues to heal him, Theyni asks the general question.

“Grandfather, I feel like you went way harder on Scima.”

“What? You think I need to be harsher with Sion boy too?”

“No! I was just wondering why.” The general scoffs a little.

“Scima boy obviously talked Sion boy into it, and then tried to sell him out to save himself. I could tell that Sion boy was repentant, but Scima boy will only learn if I beat it into him.” Scima responds indignantly.

“That’s prejudice! How do you know that’s what happened?!” The general begins to glare at Scima, who immediately caves. “Sure, it might be entirely true, but it still feels unfair! It’s the principle of it!” General Shard ignores this and turns towards Sion.

“So, Sion boy, do you really have something to say to me?”

“Yes sir, I have an answer for you.” A small smile full of pride grows on the general’s face. “In that fight this morning, I kept on choosing to take hits and I kept on being put in positions where I might get hit. It was an unnecessary risk and it would eventually give me bad habits. The idiom is about how King Bana fought with the future and a goal in mind. He couldn’t afford to slow down from injuries, and he definitely couldn’t let himself die early. That’s what I think you want me to remember.” The general’s smile grows larger.

“Good, good. That’s a passing answer. But while we’re at it, Sion boy, have you found your own reason for fighting?” Sion looks slightly downcast.

“No sir. But I’ll keep looking for one at Sagax.” Sion’s blue eyes glow with determination as the old general chuckles lightly.