The courtyard of the Fire Nation outpost echoed with the sharp clatter of wooden swords. The air carried the smell of dust, sweat, and faint smoke from training dummies scorched by fire magic.
Dozens of children some older, some only slightly taller than Alex moved in staggered lines, their wooden blades rising and falling in practice drills. Their instructors barked corrections, their voices as harsh as steel against stone.
Alex stood near the back, clutching his practice sword with both hands. The weapon was nothing more than polished oak, yet it felt heavier than iron in his small palms. His shoulders ached before the session had even begun, and sweat already ran down his forehead.
His chest rose and fell too quickly, betraying his nervousness.
He was younger, smaller, and weaker than almost every child around him.
"Feet wider!" shouted Captain Renald, the elf commander overseeing the day's training. His sharp eyes swept the line. "This is not play! A weak stance is a broken stance spread your legs, bend your knees, anchor yourselves!"
Alex shuffled his feet, nearly tripping. He widened his stance, pressing his toes into the dirt. His sword trembled. Laughter broke out from somewhere down the line.
"Look at him shake," one of the older boys said with a sneer. "He can't even hold the stick."
More children snickered. The sound stung, but Alex bit his lip until he tasted blood. He remembered his father's words, spoken on a different night, long ago, before the fire and chaos: "Alex, the ground is your ally. Root yourself, and even the storm cannot move you. Plant your feet like a tree, and you will not fall."
He took a slow breath and forced his body lower, his legs firm, his balance steadier. The wooden sword still trembled, but less now.
Then, a faint chime rang in his ears. A translucent window blinked to life at the edge of his vision.
[Ding!]
[Passive Skill Detected: Basic Stance Control.]
[Progress: 1% → 8%.]
His heart skipped. The System! It was watching. It hadn't abandoned him after all.
"Raise swords!" Renald barked.
The children obeyed. Alex lifted the heavy blade above his head. His arms quivered violently.
"Swing!"
A wave of wooden swords cut downward. Alex's own blade fell with a sloppy arc, barely biting the air. His wrists screamed in protest.
Laughter again. "He'll cut his own foot off if he's not careful!"
Alex clenched his jaw, refusing to look at them. His mother's final words flickered in his heart: "Live on… live strong."
Another memory surfaced his father crouched before him on a quiet afternoon, a real sword in his hand. "Swordplay is rhythm, Alex. Not brute force. Inhale when you raise the blade, exhale when you cut. The breath steadies the swing."
Alex tried.
He inhaled deeply, raising the sword. Then exhaled as he cut down.
The strike was still clumsy, still weak, but the rhythm made it smoother than before.
[Ding!]
[Skill Unlocked: Breathing Rhythm (Passive).]
[Effect: Slight stamina recovery during steady breathing.]
Alex nearly gasped aloud. His sword trembled, but the System responded. It was real. His father's lessons weren't gone they were alive in him, recognized by the very fabric of this strange world.
"Again!" Renald roared.
The children swung. Alex obeyed. Inhale. Exhale. Swing. His arms burned, but with every breath, the System chimed faintly in his ears.
[+7 EXP – Basic Swordsmanship.]
[Basic Swordsmanship Proficiency: 12% → 19%.]
He kept going.
[+5 EXP.]
[+6 EXP.]
Sweat blurred his vision, but he swung again.
[Basic Swordsmanship Proficiency: 19% → 27%.]
The System's notifications flickered steadily, each one a reminder that he was not failing. He was growing.
Time bled away. The sun climbed higher. Children groaned and slowed, some leaning on their swords, some conjuring sparks of flame to distract themselves from the monotony.
Alex had no flame. He had no strength. All he had was rhythm.
Inhale. Exhale. Swing.
Then, another notification appeared, brighter this time:
[Ding!]
[Quest Triggered: "Seek Strength."]
[Objective: Complete 1,000 practice swings.]
[Progress: 0 / 1,000.]
Alex's mouth went dry. One thousand? His arms already felt like they would tear off. His hands were raw. But how could he stop now?
His father's image Erynder standing against raiders, sword blazing in defense of his family burned in his heart. His brother Keal's voice whispered, "When you can't raise the sword with your arms, swing with your whole body. Twist your hips. Let weight carry you."
Alex raised his sword again. Inhale. Exhale. Swing. The blade cut with slightly more force as his hips shifted.
[Ding!]
[Technique Unlocked: Weighted Slash (Basic).]
[Effect: +2 Power when using body weight in attack.]
He smiled faintly, despite the pain. His body shook, but the System answered.
He swung again.
[Progress: 1 / 1,000.]
Again.
[Progress: 2 / 1,000.]
Again.
His arms screamed. His shoulders blazed. His legs shook like leaves in the wind.
But the counter kept ticking upward.
[Progress: 37 / 1,000.]
[Progress: 112 / 1,000.]
[Progress: 213 / 1,000.]
By now, the other children were slumping to the ground, panting, their drills forgotten. Even Renald seemed tired of yelling. But Alex did not stop.
Every time the laughter stung, he remembered his mother's face. Every time his sword slipped, he remembered Keal's corrections. Every time his body begged him to quit, he remembered Erynder's sacrifice.
This was not just training. It was survival.
The sun bled into the horizon. Shadows lengthened. Children were dismissed, one by one. They left in groups, laughing, chatting, or dragging their feet. Soon, the courtyard was empty.
Except for Alex.
Sweat drenched him. His shirt clung to his back. His palms were torn open, raw and bleeding. His breaths came in ragged gasps. The sword in his hands felt like stone.
But the counter rose.
[Progress: 512 / 1,000.]
The world around him blurred. His swings grew sloppy, his vision swimming. Once, his knees buckled and he nearly collapsed. But he tightened his stance, twisted his hips, and forced another swing.
[Ding!]
[+10 EXP – Basic Swordsmanship.]
[Basic Swordsmanship Proficiency: 44% → 59%.]
The moon rose high, silver light washing over the courtyard. The torches on the walls flickered weakly. His body screamed at him to stop. But the System urged him on.
[Progress: 741 / 1,000.]
His arms were numb now. He could barely feel the sword in his hands. He swung out of instinct, each motion pulled from memory, from rhythm, from sheer will.
Inhale. Exhale. Swing.
[Progress: 899 / 1,000.]
His vision dimmed. His knees trembled violently. But the counter was almost full.
He forced his body up one last time.
Inhale. Exhale. Swing.
[Progress: 1,000 / 1,000.]
The System roared to life.
[Ding!]
[Quest Complete: "Seek Strength."]
[Rewards: +50 EXP, +1 Skill Level, Passive Unlock.]
[Skill Level Up: Basic Swordsmanship → Lv. 4.]
[Unlocked Passive: Endurance Growth.]
[Effect: Training fatigue reduced by 10%.]
Blue light washed across his vision. His body collapsed, dropping to its knees. The wooden sword slipped from his hands, landing with a dull thud. His chest heaved, his throat dry, his body trembling violently.
Yet beneath the exhaustion, a tiny ember of pride burned. He had done it. A thousand swings. The System had acknowledged him.
He was stronger than yesterday. Tomorrow, he would be stronger still.
His lips curled into a faint, broken smile. As darkness closed in, he whispered to the silent courtyard, to his father, to his mother, to his brother:
"I'll live on… I promise."
Then, unconsciousness claimed him.