A Sizzling Sharpening of Skills

Now that Reinhart had mastered defensive magic and had a better understanding of his capabilities, it was time to focus on offensive tactics with weapons. His next tutor, Kaelan, was a stoic, battle-hardened Dralkon with the reputation of being the best weapons master among the clans.

"Alright, Reinhart, time to see how you fare with a weapon in your hands," Kaelan said, gesturing towards an array of weapons laid out immaculately in front of them.

For Reinhart, this was completely unfamiliar territory. While his main expertise was in construction, Reinhart's parents' love for LARP had instilled some weapons training. Unfortunately, the weapons had been fake and foam covered, and the brunt of what Reinhart learned was about the strategies that the generals of old had deployed to defeat their foes.

"We'll begin with a basic weapon, a longsword," Kaelan instructed, handing Reinhart a beautifully crafted blade. The sword was balanced and felt comfortable in Reinhart's grip. "It is good to see you have an idea of how to use the sword."

Reinhart swung the sword a few times and then shrugged. "I have trained a bit, but only with practice weapons."

"Well, let's see how well you handle a real blade," Kaelan said, extending a hand to invite Reinhart to spar with her. Reinhart nodded, hefting the sword expertly, his direct gaze met Kaelan's. The anticipation hung thickly in the air.

Taking a deep breath, Reinhart launched towards Kaelan, his movements swift but strategically calculated. Kaelan maneuvered to block his oncoming attacks, her own blade moving swiftly to counter his attacks. They danced around in a whirl of blades, their weapons clashing repeatedly, throwing sparks around them.

To his and Kaelan's surprise, for every offensive move Kaelan made, Reinhart was there, his steel meeting hers in an unfaltering defense. His moves were quick, his attacks unpredictable and gut-driven. After a dozen or so exchanges where Reinhart continuously came out on top, Kaelan finally moved back, a stunned expression on her face.

"By the stars... You're a natural," Kaelan commented, her surprise echoing in her tone. Reinhart stood in stunned silence, holding the sword in his hand. He looked at the blade and laughed nervously. He was excellent. More than excellent.

"Might be related to my new body's abilities. I was never this good before," Reinhart suggested, but Kaelan didn't seem convinced.

"A new body can give you strength and speed, sure, but the techniques and the instincts," she pointed out, "I think the credit should go to your hard work and dedication, Reinhart."

"What's next?" Reinhart asked, smiling and feeling confident. Kaelan brought forth various forms of weapons: spears, axes, daggers, and even a bow with a quiver full of arrows. One by one, she showed Reinhart the basic techniques of handling these weapons.

Despite the unfamiliarity of these weapons, Reinhart adapted quickly. His handling of the spear was graceful, his swings with the axe seamlessly blended power and preciseness, he threw daggers with dead-on accuracy, and his arrows hit their mark every time. With each weapon, Reinhart's proficiency was undeniable, and Kaelan seemed more and more astonished at his natural aptitude.

"Amazing. Absolutely amazing, Reinhart. It seems that you've trained with every weapon I know," Kaelan finally admitted, "Not only that, but you've mastered each in a matter of what? Just some mere hours?"

Reinhart, now holding a simple staff, smiled amiably, "Maybe it's the body, maybe it's the rigorous training I've sworn myself into, or maybe it's the incredible teachers I've been fortunate to have."

Kaelan laughed, appreciating his humility. "Okay, we'll go with that. But remember; a weapon is only a tool. It's you who needs to channel your Mana and wit into that tool. It's your extension, not your solution." She held his gaze, emphasizing her lesson, "Now, let's see how fast you can channel your Mana into these weapons."

Thus, Reinhart followed her instruction. It wasn't as swift or as perfect as his earlier feats, but he noticed that it was becoming easier with every effort. His experience with Mana was paying off. Though the day had been laborious and extensive, Reinhart felt an overpowering surge of self-satisfaction. He managed to impress yet another seasoned mentor with his raw natural talent. Yes, he owed it to this new body, to his relentless quest for learning, but also, he realized, to himself.

The looming confrontation with Farid and his men was beginning to seem less overwhelming, more of an opportunity. An opportunity for Reinhart to show them that he wasn't just a regular human anymore. He was capable, powerful, and ready. And they would soon find out just how much.

---

Across the Kingdom in the opulent throne room of King Farid, a different kind of meeting was taking place. Here, in a room lavishly adorned with gold and jewels, Farid held counsel with Gresh, an imposing and sinister Dralkon with scales as black as obsidian and eyes that glinted with malignant intent.

"Gresh, your intel has been useful," Farid said, his tone laced with his habitual arrogance. His voice echoed through his grand hall, making a disturbing contrast with Gresh's menacing silence.

Gresh gave a nod as a response, despising Farid's pompous airs but choosing to withhold his comments, for now.

"Our scouts have located them in Grin'nix territory," he reported, his voice hard as steel. "They continue to train and grow stronger."

"Our next move is obvious, then," Farid stated, sounding far too smug for Gresh's liking. "Send a Feral Dralkon to deal with them."

This suggestion caused Gresh to stiffen. "You want to waste a Feral on them?" he questioned, his tone bitter. "Have your men not been enough of a laughingstock?"

"I do not pay you to question me, Gresh," Farid retorted icily, standing from his throne to deliver an authoritative glare at the Dralkon.

"Payment or not, I will not stand here and listen to your follies!" Gresh shot back, his anger visibly flaring. His reverberating voice echoed throughout the chamber, making Farid momentarily recoil.

Their argument heated, and silence blanketed the room, filled with tension thick enough to cut through. Gresh huffed, finally breaking the silence. "Your ambition blinds you, Farid. The matter with the Ferals isn't child's play,"

"My rule, my orders," Farid retorted, regaining his pompous composure.

Their clash of wills sizzled in the room before Gresh reluctantly bowed his head in acceptance. "Fine. But if this fails," he added, voice laced with warning, "I'll let it be known that I told you so."

Gresh could not help but rue his decision to side with such a pompous king. He had believed siding with Farid would help his fellow Dralkons finally take their rightful place in the world, to ascend beyond suppression, but the king's reckless decisions made him question their alliance.

As Gresh left Farid's resplendent throne room, he couldn't help but wonder if he'd made the wrong choice.

Now, Farid's commands set a precarious wheel in motion and a sinister shadow loomed closer to Reinhart, Maze, and the Grin'nix clan. Danger was imminent. Their lives, their progress, and the fate of Fallenia rested on an uncertain edge. Unbeknownst to them, the battle was about to take a dark turn.