Next morning, Eamon woke up feeling fresh. His muscles still ached, but it was a different kind of pain. The kind that reminded him he was growing stronger. The sunlight streamed through the window, painting the wooden floor with golden lines. He took a deep breath, stretched his arms, and smiled.
He stepped outside, where the morning wind was crisp and the sky was clear. The scent of earth and smoke from Arvin's forge mixed in the air. Arvin was already in the yard. He stood still with his arms crossed. In front of him were twenty puppets, just like the day before. Their arms gleamed with a faint aura, a sign of the enchantments Arvin had cast. They looked lifeless now, but Eamon knew how fast they could move once given the command.
Arvin looked over his shoulder and smirked.
"Well today you can use magic to fight. So, are you ready?" he asked.
Eamon nodded and tightened the fists. "Yes. Let's do this."
Without another word, Arvin made a swift gesture. A low hum filled the air as the puppets jerked to life. Their heads turned slowly towards Eamon. Then, with creaking limbs and glowing eyes, they charged.
Eamon took a deep breath. He stepped to the side, dodging the first puppet's swing. He blocked another with his sword. The weight behind the puppet's blow nearly knocked him down, but he held firm. Two more rushed from the left. He ducked, then rolled back, gaining some distance.
The puppets were relentless. Their speed and coordination had improved. He realized Arvin had not only increased their strength, but also their tactics. They flanked him, tried to confuse him with feints and fake-outs.
Eamon narrowed his eyes. He backed up to the edge of the training yard. The puppets regrouped and began to encircle him. He smiled.
"Let's try this," he said softly to himself.
He raised his hand and began to chant. "Arcana Flame Whip!"
A thin line of fire appeared in the air, then grew longer and longer, twisting and crackling. It formed a whip made of pure flame, burning with orange and red hues. It hovered beside him, flickering like a serpent ready to strike.
Eamon gripped the air as if holding a handle. The whip moved with his hands. He spun it once and lashed it outwards.
The fire whip danced through the air and slashed across the puppets. A loud crack echoed as it hit the wooden bodies. In one swift motion, the whip sliced through the line of enemies. All twenty puppets exploded into ash and splinters.
Arvin's eyes widened. He stood silently, watching the dust settle.
He muttered to himself, "Incredible..."
Eamon panted but smiled. "That was... fun."
Arvin stepped forward, his voice louder now. "Your grandfather told me you were good at magic. But I didn't know you were this good."
Eamon shrugged and wiped his brow. "I can only do a few spells. Basic ones."
Arvin shook his head. "If that was basic, I can't imagine what your advanced looks like."
Without waiting, Arvin lifted his hands. The ground trembled. From the earth, fifty new puppets rose, their bodies taller and broader. Their eyes glowed brighter, and their movements were sharper. Arvin crossed his arms again.
"Let's see how you handle this," he said.
The puppets didn't wait. They charged at once like a storm.
Eamon was already chanting.
"Arcana Flicker Blaze!"
Bright flames appeared in front of him. They pulsed once, then exploded into waves that raced toward the puppets. The fire clashed with their bodies. Several were blown away immediately. Wood turned black, bodies collapsed into burning debris.
But not all.
Many puppets kept coming, their limbs charred but their drive untouched. Eamon narrowed his eyes again. He moved his hands in a wide arc.
"Arcana Blazing Fists!"
His hands burst into flames. His fists were wrapped in fire. He ran forward. With every punch, a puppet exploded. He ducked, twisted, kicked, and punched again. Fire followed every movement.
He spun and hit the last puppet with a heavy blow to the chest. The puppet cracked in half and fell.
Eamon took a step back, breathing hard.
Then Arvin spoke again.
"Well then. I guess it's time."
He placed his hand on the ground. The soil shifted. The energy in the air grew heavier.
"I will now create puppets that are exactly as powerful as real Torkes."
Eamon's eyes widened slightly. He nodded but his grip tightened.
Arvin chanted softly. The earth groaned. Twenty new puppets emerged. These were different. Their arms were thicker. Their steps were faster. Their presence felt... dangerous.
They didn't wait. They came at Eamon with blinding speed.
Eamon raised his hands.
"Arcana Flicker Blaze!"
Waves of fire shot forward. The puppets were hit and staggered. But they didn't fall. The flames singed their bodies, but they kept charging.
Eamon tried again.
"Arcana Flicker Blaze!"
This time more force went into the spell. A few puppets exploded. Splinters flew in every direction.
But still, more came.
One puppet reached Eamon. Its palm struck him in the side. He flew back and rolled on the ground. His arm ached. He stood up slowly, wincing.
"Alright then, time to get serious," he whispered.
He pressed his palm to the ground.
"Arcana Infernal Fang!"
The earth beneath the puppets glowed. Then flames burst from under them, shaped like sharp fangs. The fire fangs bit into the puppets. One by one, they were dragged down into the fire. Some resisted. Some tried to run. But the spell chased them. The flames followed them like beasts.
Finally, all twenty were gone.
The fire faded. Smoke rose from the ground.
Eamon dropped to one knee. His arms hung low. His breathing was heavy. Sweat poured down his face. His vision blurred for a second.
Arvin rushed to him. He knelt beside him and placed a hand on Eamon's shoulder.
"Good. Very good," Arvin said with a wide smile. "Wonderful, my child. You were amazing back there."
Eamon smiled back weakly.
"Let's have some lunch now. You must be starving." Arvin said, helping him stand.