The next day, Eamon stood in the clearing behind the house. His feet pressed into the slightly damp earth. The morning air was still cool, but beads of sweat had already started forming on his brow. His hands were tightly gripping the handle of the wooden sword, and his eyes were locked on Arvin. He had barely slept last night. His muscles ached from yesterday's training, and yet, a quiet determination lit his face. Today, he had to push further.
"I'm ready," he said, breath steady despite the fatigue. "Let's start."
Arvin stepped into the field holding his staff, his expression calm and unreadable. He glanced once at Eamon and then at the open space around them.
"Well, today," Arvin said as he lifted his staff slightly, "I will increase the power of the puppets. They will be twice as strong as yesterday. That means they will be half as powerful as a real Torkes. This will test your physical endurance. And it will sharpen your sword-fighting skills."
Eamon nodded, a flicker of nervousness crossing his face. "No magic again?"
"No magic today either," Arvin confirmed with a slight grin. "You need to build your foundation first. Once your body can endure and your reflexes are sharp, only then will your spells hold up in real battle."
Eamon exhaled slowly. "Oh. Okay..."
"And one more thing," Arvin added, tapping his staff on the ground. "The sword you will be using today has been enhanced with incantations. It is ten times heavier than the one you used yesterday."
Eamon's eyes widened. "Of course you did," he muttered under his breath, then added louder, "Great. That sounds... fair."
He picked up the new wooden sword lying at his feet. The moment he lifted it, his arms dipped from the sudden weight. His shoulders tensed, and he staggered slightly before adjusting his grip. It was almost impossible to believe it was still made of wood.
"Ten times heavier?" Eamon groaned. "Why not just hand me a boulder with a handle?"
"Stop whining and start fighting kid," Arvin said, stepping back and raising his staff high.
He whispered a few words under his breath, and the ground in front of them rumbled softly. Thin lines of light etched themselves into the earth, forming a large circle. One by one, puppets emerged—tall, broad, armored with a dull grey sheen and holding weapons made of compressed magic. There were twenty of them. They stood still for a moment, lifeless, before their eyes glowed blue.
"Here they come," Arvin said calmly. "Let's see how long you last."
The puppets charged.
Eamon braced himself and lifted his sword with great effort. He parried the first blow, his knees buckling slightly. The sheer weight of the sword slowed him down. He had to put all his strength into each movement. Every swing was a struggle, every block a battle. The puppets came at him relentlessly, their strikes precise and coordinated.
But Eamon held on.
He used more footwork than strength, weaving through them, pushing his body to move faster, harder. Sometimes he took a hit. A puppet's sword slammed into his shoulder, and he grunted in pain, but he didn't fall. When he found an opening, he struck. It took three hits with the heavy wooden sword to take down a single puppet, but he did it.
One by one, they fell.
Hours passed. The sun climbed high and then began to fall. Arvin summoned more puppets each time Eamon defeated the group. He didn't speak. He only watched.
By evening, the count had passed two hundred. Eamon lay on the ground, gasping, his entire body shaking. His clothes were torn, his arms bruised, and his legs barely moved. But he had done it.
The last puppet fell, its glowing eyes dimming as it dissolved into the earth.
Eamon stared up at the orange sky, breath heaving. "That… was insane."
After a long while, he managed to sit up. Then he slowly walked back to the house and collapsed on the wooden floor just inside the door.
Arvin looked down at him and gave a rare smile. "You did good today, boy. Way better than yesterday."
Eamon groaned. "I'm too tired, Grandpa. Can I go sleep?"
Arvin chuckled. "Not so fast, my boy. From tomorrow, we'll start your magic training as well."
Eamon's head jerked up. His eyes sparkled. "Really? You mean it?"
"Yes," Arvin nodded. "But before that, I need to know how much you already understand about the world. To break your curse, you'll need to travel far. That means you must understand every entity and element of our realm. You must know its people, its dangers, its rules. So tell me. What do you know?"
Eamon rubbed his eyes and tried to sit straighter. "Umm… there's a lot. My grandfather used to tell me stories when I was a kid. I don't know where to start."
"Start at the beginning," Arvin said.
"Okay," Eamon said. "So… at the beginning of time, the world was whole. But then, it got split into two parts. The Light Realm and the Dark Realm. These two realms have always been at war. They've fought many battles. But after the Seventeenth Holy War, the dark realm was sealed away."
He paused, trying to remember more.
"In the Light Realm, there are many countries. Each belongs to different species. Humans have eleven kingdoms. Elves have four. Dwarves have three. And there are two kingdom each for the Lumaris, Seraphims, and Naiads."
Arvin nodded as he listened.
"We live in the human Kingdom of Aldoria," Eamon continued. "It's the strongest of all the human kingdoms. Aldoria is currently being ruled by King Altherion Vaelcrest. He's said to be the strongest man in the kingdom. Maybe even in the whole Light Realm."
Eamon took a deep breath and kept going.
"Under King Vaelcrest, there are four Royal Generals, two Royal Archwizardsten Royal Knights and the Royal Army of two hundred thousand soldiers. Right now, humans are at peace with Elves, Dwarves, Lumari, Naiads, and the Seraphim. But that peace is always shaky."
Arvin crossed his arms and gave a short nod. "Good. You know more than I thought."
Eamon smiled a little. "I used to love those stories."
"Now tell me what you know about magic," Arvin said.
Eamon leaned his head back against the wall. "Magic is drawn from a person's mana core. The stronger the core, the stronger the magic. Everyone has a natural magic attribute. The major ones are air, water, fire, and earth. Then there are subtypes like ice, sand, tree, metal, etc."
He looked at Arvin. "My attribute is fire. Like yours is earth, right grandpa?"
Arvin raised an eyebrow. "Correct."
Eamon continued. "Magic spells depend on your control and your mana levels. You also need mental focus. If your mind breaks in a fight, your spell breaks too. And sometimes, people can awaken rare types of magic. But that happens very rarely."
Arvin stepped away from the door and looked outside into the dusk. "You'll need all this knowledge when you begin your journey. But right now, we focus on building your strength. Starting tomorrow, your training will include fighting the puppets using magic as well."
Eamon's eyes lit up. "I'm ready. I really am."
Arvin turned back to him with a slight smile. "Good. But for now, go sleep. Give your body some rest. Tomorrow's training will be more severe."
Eamon didn't argue. He slowly got up, limped toward his bed, and collapsed on the soft mattress with a groan. His eyelids grew heavy almost instantly. The world blurred.
He knew this was just the beginning. But for now, he allowed sleep to take him.