Hell Training

"Come On!!!!" Luna barked loudly, bearing down on Altair and Reina, withered by sweat, dirt, and grass over their small bodies. She pointed her finger, poking at Altair's shoulder, waist, and legs, adjusting the flow of his sword strokes. "Good. Can you feel the difference?"

"Yes," Altair shouted, pushing through the searing heat, sizzling beneath his muscles. Luna had merely corrected his posture, but Altair could feel the flow of his stroke experience, a transformation he'd never thought possible.

He could feel the flow of his energy with each transition of his movements, the grace in which his blade and body now moved, as he performed the First Sword Dance of Grave of Night. Each stroke, each sweep, thrust, step, and riposte began to flow seamlessly like a river. Free and graceful as the winds, fierce like the flames of war, and mighty as the lightning of heaven.

"Good! But you are missing two major steps, Altair!" Luna shouted, once again making small adjustments in his posture as he pressed on. " You are missing the killing aspect, and worst of all, you are not thinking of yourself as the blade. There should be no differences between your sword and your arms, legs, and, most importantly, your heart.

"When you wield a sword, it's for a singular purpose: To kill. To slaughter. There is no need to romanticize a sword with some bullshit about defending the weak or protecting your loved ones. The coldest truth is that a sword is made for killing. You can thank Azazel for that. When someone draws on you outside an official duel, it's for the singular purpose of killing you. It's to take your life." She paused, allowing the cold truth to sink into Altair's young mind, and continued: "That is what we call Intent. Everything has Intent. Whether it's an inanimate object like your sword or the one who wields it, it exists in everything. Feel the ebb and flow of your blade and yourself. Now make that Intent yours. Don't just wield or swing your sword. Manipulate it. Bend it to your will. Harder! Faster!"

Growling as he devoured everything Luna said like a sponge, Altair's nose trickled with blood as his body and sword began to push the boundary of his limit.

Had the Young Prince learned normal swordsmanship, Altair's System would have long registered his technique within its log. However, the higher the technique's potential, the harder it was to grasp. For most humans, it was necessary abiding by the arduous prerequisite of spending ten years of learning swordsmanship to push themselves past the boundary of human perception. And for Altair, there was no telling when he would receive the system's approval.

Luna glanced at her disciple, wielding her greatsword, 'Ice,' a weapon she'd given to Leto when he was a boy who could barely wipe his ass. It was the weapon he slowly drove through his mother's neck. The weapon he'd use to sever his father's head in a frightening outburst of rage.

'How young he was back then.' She thought, unable to resist a cold-hearted smile sprinkled with warmth as she observed Reina's mastery. "But she is far more talented. Perhaps it's due to being a Nephilim. Such a subspecies has yet to be fully weaponized. Shall we see if I can push her to Aurelia's level? Although what worries me is that Altair has yet to sense Mana even after two weeks of training.'

Her gaze swayed to Altairs, to the throbbing of his muscles reacting to her tempering. Worry had been on her mind for the past week regarding such a feat that should have been innate for someone of Altair's Mighty Bloodline. And yet, despite days of analysis, Luna had failed to grasp why Altair had yet to sense Mana.

'Children of higher bloodlines such as Seraphim, Devils, Demons, Highborns, or Celestials don't need to learn to sense Mana. They are born innately with the ability. Altair's bloodline is no less than theirs, and yet why is it that his cells generate Mana, but he cannot sense it?' Luna thought, folding her arms tightly against her breast. Her pale silvery eyes narrowed as she sighed. "Perhaps… he's just like her…." She whispered to herself.

Incased by the slivers of heat drilling into her small stature Reina neither expressed pain nor sorrow as blood bled from her palm, her sword, and onto her cheeks as her icy gaze penetrated the void. She swung, allowing the mana within her heart to pour through her Mana Roots. Using what little Mana she managed to gather during these two weeks with Altair, she poured it into her sword: Waves of frost began to cloak her fingers as she poured all she had into her swordsmanship.

It didn't matter that she could no longer feel her fingers, it didn't matter that her muscles burned no different than when she burned herself with fire, and it didn't matter that glimmers of darkness dotted her vision. Reina pressed on.

'This was nothing…." She thought to herself. 'Nothing… Nothing to what it's like trying to feed Mother as she vomited her guts in front of me. As her skin cracked and her eyes bled.'

Over and over, her sword whipped through the air growing colder and colder, leaving nothing but her withered image in her mind.

"Reina!" Altair called, tapping her shoulder. "It's time for our next lesson. You got to get ready for Alchemy."

A shudder passed through her body as the wolf-like ears at the tip of her head twitched. She flashed him a bright smile as if nothing were on her mind: "So soon! Kay… let me clean up."

Watching as Reina stepped into the woods towards the closest river, Altair glanced at Luna: "Doesn't it hurt? Her hands are…."

"I'll heal her," Luna said indifferently.

A tinge of frustration climbed on the young prince's face: "What would that solve… What's wrong with her? Whenever we eat, she leaves! She doesn't even sleep at night!"

Luna giggled: "Is our little prince worried? Your so red!"

"Aunty!!!!"

Poking at his cheeks, Luna glanced in the direction Riena went off in and then back to Altair. " I'm not telling. Ask her if you wish to know. Although I'm sure she'll not speak of it. After all, who are you to her?"

A startling look flashed over Altair's expression before realization came: "So it must have been something sad. You said her Father left her in your care, right? Does it have something to do with her Mother? Maybe her Father as well?'

'What a frightening guess.' Lunafreya thought, with a warm smile, and said:" Go and find the answers yourself. But after your lesson. Shall we open the World of Shadows Grimoire? It doesn't matter if you can't sense Mana yet. The world itself shall bend to the language of the Seraphim and Fallen."