"Yes. Do it again. And keep repeating it."
Razeal's voice was calm, but the weight in it made it sound like an order carved into stone. He stood with arms folded, black eyes narrowing slightly as he watched Levy in front of him. He was swinging a wooden sword, again and again, in the same simple motion.
The wooden weapon wasn't much to look at. Razeal had made it himself, after breaking down a small table inside the ship's cabin. The material had been useless furniture a few hours ago, but with his system function [Automatic Blacksmith] he'd reforged it into a training weapon in mere seconds. It wasn't sharp, not deadly, but it was balanced enough for practice. That function, Razeal thought, was still one of the most useful tools he had. As long as he had materials, he could create nearly anything.
Levy didn't care about any of that. His palms were already sweating, his arms trembling from the sheer repetition. Each swing felt heavier than the last.
