Chapter 10: Oliver Matais 

Chapter 10: Oliver Matais 

​In a forest clearing thick with the smell of damp earth, a young man stood in the center of the muddy terrain, his gaze steady as he held a longbow with practiced ease.

At 5'8", he was taller than most boys his age, his presence imposing yet calm. He was fourteen, but his composed demeanor and precise control over his movements spoke of a maturity beyond his years.

As he adjusted his stance, his fingers lightly resting on the bowstring, his eyes scanned the misty forest ahead, where targets lay hidden among the trees and underbrush.

In this muddy, unpredictable terrain, random targets would spring to life—some small and distant, others close yet partially obscured by the twisting trees and vines.

Yet, he never faltered, his calm unbreakable as he remained focused on the task before him.

A target popped up to his right—a small wooden disc painted red.

Without a second's delay, he drew his bowstring, exhaling softly as he released. The arrow flew with impeccable speed, embedding itself squarely in the center of the target.

Even before the disc had settled back into the mud, he was already turning to his next mark, his feet shifting through the wet ground with surprising precision, as if the unstable terrain were a mere afterthought.

Another target appeared, this time far off in the distance, barely visible in the fog.

He squinted slightly, calculating the angle and compensating for the wind.

With absolute calm, he nocked an arrow, aimed, and released. The arrow struck true, hitting the bullseye. His expression remained unchanged, focused and unyielding.

In rapid succession, he continued to take down target after target, moving seamlessly with each shot.

The forest echoed with the soft thunk of arrows meeting their mark, the boy's steady rhythm undisturbed by the swampy ground or the randomness of the targets.

Each shot seemed effortless, yet precision-driven, as if the bow were as much a part of him as his own heartbeat.

This level of skill and poise was rare for his age, even among noble houses where archery training was common. 

But to this young man, it was simply routine—a part of who he was. When the last target fell, he lowered his bow with a slight nod, a calm satisfaction in his eyes.

​As the final target fell and the last echo of the arrow's impact faded, the forest scene flickered and dissolved, leaving only the sterile walls of the training chamber. 

Oliver lowered his bow, his face still as calm as when he'd begun, though a slight glint of excitement lit his eyes.

The door opened, and his mentor entered the room, her presence calm yet commanding.

Selena, a tall figure with light blue hair that caught the light in subtle silver hues, moved with effortless grace, her hand resting lightly on the rapier at her hip.

Her piercing gaze assessed Oliver's performance with a practiced eye, and a faint, approving smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

"I've arranged the sparring match you requested," Selena announced, her voice carrying a note of intrigue. "It will take place in a week. I think you'll find it interesting."

Oliver's brow lifted slightly. He rarely requested sparring matches himself, but he valued the opportunity to test his skills against a wider range of opponents. 

"I appreciate it," he replied, his tone respectful but measured. "I assume this one is someone strong?"

"Hmmm, well I have never been let down by my…friend on the other side, so yes." Selena's smile grew, though she kept the specifics to herself, a glint of amusement in her eyes as she gauged Oliver's reaction. 

"I thought it might be a suitable challenge."

Curiosity flickered across Oliver's usually unreadable expression. "Is this someone I should know?"

"Perhaps." She gave a small, cryptic shrug, her gaze steady. "Though I'll leave you to find that out on your own."

He nodded, already focusing on how he'd prepare.

"Thank you, Mentor," he said, feeling the stirrings of anticipation building within him.

Selena gave him a nod and turned, her hand resting easily on the hilt of her rapier as she made her way to the exit. 

Just before stepping out, she looked back at him. "Train well, Oliver. You'll want to bring everything you have to this one."

With that, she was gone, leaving Oliver alone in the training chamber. He looked at the bow in his hands, his mind already racing through possible training regimens.

A faint smile crossed his lips. Whoever his opponent was, he was ready for the challenge.

"Please start a simulation, this time, I want to train in close quarters combat."

...

​Over the next seven days, Ren's progress in swordsmanship was nothing short of extraordinary.

The training he endured under Kai's watch was grueling, each day pushing him to new limits, testing his resolve and his body's capacity for improvement.

His form had sharpened considerably. 

The awkwardness that once plagued his swings with the greatsword had disappeared, replaced by fluid, controlled movements that flowed almost naturally from one strike to the next.

Each clash of metal against metal felt more like an intimate conversation between weapon and wielder, rather than the frantic attempts of a novice.

Kai had begun incorporating more advanced footwork into the training, and Ren's balance was improving with each step. 

What had once felt unnatural was now second nature.

He began incorporating the techniques he had seen in his dreams, as though his body had learned them without his conscious mind.

But despite his growing prowess, something still gnawed at him—his inability to sense his own aura.

Kai had set up multiple sessions to help him tap into it, but it never seemed to click.

The chamber would fill with aura, and Ren would try, focusing all his attention on the feeling that should have been there. 

He could feel the weight in the air, an oppressive pressure that intensified with each breath.

But no matter how hard he concentrated, the connection remained elusive.

During these sessions, his mental fatigue had been alleviated by the constant flow of aura into the room, but he couldn't control it.

It was as if his body had opened the door, but he couldn't find the key to enter.

Yet, despite these frustrations, Ren's physical growth didn't stop.

His senses, while still underdeveloped, were growing sharper.

His endurance continued to improve as well, allowing him to push his body further than before without collapsing from exhaustion.

His strength and agility were also seeing drastic improvements thanks to the pellets that Kai was providing him with.

Ren didn't know the normal advancement pace of warriors, but he was sure he was considered as fast, since seeing improvement in one's stats within a week was definitely not considered the norm.

After a week of intense training, Ren stood before Kai once more, gripping the greatsword in his hands. He could feel the weight of the weapon, but it no longer felt burdensome.

The blade had become familiar, and even if his aura remained an enigma, he could now rely on his physical abilities with a certainty that had been absent before.

Kai observed him from the viewing chamber, his expression unreadable. "Not bad. Now you just need aura."

Ren nodded, wiping sweat from his brow.

He had come to terms with the fact that the aura wouldn't simply reveal itself. It wasn't something to be rushed. 

He just needed to keep training, keep pushing his limits, and eventually, it would come.

​Kai's voice crackled over the intercom once again, "Alright then, our guests are here. I'm bringing them inside."

Ren glanced over his stats one more time, the information flashing briefly in his mind.

Updated Stats:

Strength: Common

Agility: Common

Stamina: Common

Sense: Common+

Endurance: Uncommon-

Intelligence: Rare+

Aura: Unlocked (unranked)

..

Authors Note: 

Hope you guys will enjoy this novel.

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