Training

----7 Years Later----

Thrown off by Aion's brutal tackle, pain seared through my chest as I was launched through the air. The impact left me reeling, my body stinging with agony. The hounds' headbutts were infuriatingly powerful, but I refused to back down.

As I scrambled to my feet, a surge of adrenaline coursed through my veins. It was time to turn the tables. Gripping the practice sword tightly, I assumed a battle-ready stance, muscles coiled like springs, and locked my focus on the approaching opponents. This was my chance to strike back.

"Come on, Aion and Ron! Show me what you've got!" I taunted, my voice filled with defiance. The hounds growled, their eyes fixed on me, eager to crush my spirit. But I had studied their patterns and behavior, and I was ready to exploit their weaknesses.

With lightning reflexes, I dropped into a crouch and launched myself forward with explosive power. Aion, caught off guard by my sudden aggression, hesitated for a split second before attempting to evade, but it was too late.

"The first voice of Stele; Deep Ground!" I bellowed, summoning the immense strength of the first stance I had mastered. The ground shattered beneath my feet as I unleashed a devastating strike, aimed squarely at Aion's head.

With a sickening thud, Aion's skull connected with the earth, his body crumpling in defeat. The impact reverberated through my arms, causing searing pain, but I didn't have time to dwell on it. There was still one hound left to deal with.

I swiftly spun around, my gaze locked onto Ron as he closed the distance with incredible speed. Anticipating his attack, I shifted into another stance, taught to me by my formidable uncle. My sword poised, I matched Ron's speed, meeting him head-on.

In a blur of motion, I unleashed a horizontal slash, the blade connecting with Ron's face with a resounding crack. He was sent hurtling through the air, crashing to the ground in a heap.

Breathing heavily, I surveyed the scene. Aion lay motionless, defeated, while Ron struggled to regain his bearings. Approaching my uncle, I watched as he held out his palms before each hound, releasing a swirling orange smoke that dissipated their forms.

The gravity of my victory finally sank in. For the first time in seven years of grueling training, I had emerged triumphant against the hounds. A rush of joy and pride surged through me, a mix of satisfaction and the electric thrill of success. This milestone marked a turning point in my journey, reminding me of the exhilarating pain that accompanies achievement.

As I looked at Aion and Ron lying defeated, a tinge of sadness washed over me. My uncle had described them as majestic creatures, and now they lay vulnerable and defeated. But at that moment, I couldn't help but feel a surge of admiration for their strength and resilience, even as they succumbed to my skill.

The hound trios were a breed called Wolfhounds, apparently, they are my uncle's beloved species of dogs so it would make sense that he has them with him.

With excitement in my voice, I turned to my uncle, recounting the battle. Every detail came alive as I spoke, relishing the adrenaline-fueled exhilaration of the spar. It was a thrilling moment, a testament to my growth and determination.

"Uncle, I discovered their vulnerability lies in their pincer attack. While each hound possesses formidable individual strength, their true power lies in their ability to overwhelm with numbers during a hunt. Recognizing this, I seized the opportunity to turn the tide. With confidence, I strategically stepped into Aion's territory, launching a fierce charge that left him disoriented, before delivering a decisive blow that render him off the battle." It was an exhilarating moment, filled with anticipation and triumph as I recalled the thrilling spar.

"As for Ron, I realized that he was blindly charging in without any plan or reason when he saw that Aion was down on the ground. Though his speed surprised me I quickly adapted to it and horizontally slashed his wits" I explained with excitement as I said my overview of what happened during the spar.

"That is excellent insight, however, you need to be wary of many more factors that could have made the match different. All the same even with a handicap on the hounds you managed to defeat them, well done" he quickly turned around as he left with his trench coat fluttering behind him.

As he entered the house, a sense of trepidation crept over me. I knew all too well what awaited me in the room he referred to as his playground, his domain of shenanigans. The door creaked open, revealing a sight that both fascinated and terrified me.

Traps were scattered throughout the room, meticulously arranged with cunning precision. It was like stepping into a twisted inventor's workshop, where danger lurked behind every corner. Wires snaked across the floor, their purpose is unknown, while contraptions dangled from the ceiling, ready to spring into action at the slightest misstep.

The air crackled with anticipation, a subtle reminder that one wrong move could unleash a surge of electricity that would jolt through my body, leaving me paralyzed with shock. Each doorknob, each handle, held the potential to become an instrument of torment, a conduit for an electrifying encounter.

But it wasn't just the threat of electrical currents that made my heart race. The room was a minefield of surprises, waiting to be triggered by an unsuspecting footfall. As I cautiously ventured forward, the ground beneath me seemed to shift, hinting at the hidden mechanisms that lay dormant, biding their time.

And then there were the explosions, unpredictable and explosive. The walls were adorned with intricate devices, disguised as innocent ornaments or paintings, their true purpose concealed until the opportune moment. Stepping on the wrong spot could set off a chain reaction of chaos, unleashing a sudden eruption of fire and sound.

Each step I took was laced with caution and anticipation. Every breath I drew was tinged with the thrill of uncertainty. The room was a testament to his devious mind, a labyrinth of traps designed to challenge and confound. It was a playground for his twisted sense of amusement, a battleground where I had to navigate the hazards with utmost care.

As I made my way through the treacherous room, I couldn't help but admire the sheer ingenuity behind each trap. It was a testament to his creativity and resourcefulness, even if it meant putting me through a nerve-wracking ordeal. The experience was equal parts thrilling and terrifying, a constant reminder of the precarious dance between danger and exhilaration.

With each passing moment, I felt a mixture of apprehension and excitement. The room held the promise of both pain and triumph, a test of my wits and resilience. I had to stay sharp, trust my instincts, and navigate this elaborate web of traps if I wanted to emerge unscathed.

The room pulsed with electrifying energy, its very atmosphere charged with suspense. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what lay ahead. It was time to face the challenges head-on, outsmart the traps, and prove myself worthy of his twisted games.

At that moment, as I stood in the heart of his diabolical playground, I couldn't help but feel a strange sense of exhilaration. The thrill of danger coursed through my veins, mingling with a flicker of admiration for his devilish ingenuity. This was his world, his domain of mischief, and I was about to immerse myself in it fully, ready to embrace the unexpected and emerge victorious.

The room beckoned, a tantalizing blend of danger and excitement. And I, fueled by equal parts fear and determination, stepped forward into the heart of his shenanigans, prepared to face whatever twisted surprises awaited me.