Sword Seed

Aker immediately stood up and began practicing with his sword. His movements that always felt technically savvy now felt ethereal.

With his eyes closed Aker imagined his fight with the Lava Boar and the Oppressing Ox as they both charged at him, his life their only target. Each of them was mad with rage and the desire to destroy his body and flesh.

Aker who stood calmly in front of both of the magical beast gently slashed his sword forward as the Lava Boar came into attack distance.

Like a scolding hot knife through butter the Lava Boar was ripped in half as Aker stood still, unaffected, his attention now on the Oppression Ox.

With a slight step and another seemingly gentle swing of his sword the head of the Oppression Ox floated in the air, its eyes still showing its disbelief as it was stunned at its death.

Aker who was still in a state of realization was swinging his sword around in his cell, each of his movements were becoming a work of art that would rain blood and death down on whatever was in front of it.

Normally when Aker would practice, he focused on being crisp and fast, his goal was to survive. Survival was found in dodging, in blocking, in staying away from danger. When he trained and visualized, he practiced dodging and attacking and blocking and attacking but now Aker was realizing he was wrong.

His sword doesn't want to run and hide. His knife doesn't want to cower and look for opportunity. All the skills in his Peerless Body are designed and meant for conquering.

Vance had explained to him that a sword is made for blood and that it must push forward. He didn't understand what Vance meant at that time but now he was beginning to. His sword wants to battle, that's the reason it was created the sole purpose for its existence. A sword serves no other purpose than to face its enemy in battle.

Aker was lost in his visualization as he attacked over and over against all the different enemies he had faced over the months.

Aker's visualization was not powerful enough to combine all of his opponents together so that he could practice against all of them at the same time unfortunately, because Aker was feeling that the two opponents he is facing was not enough.

Over and over Aker's sword swung and the beast would fall almost effortlessly. As Aker was concentrating on his sword, his sword swings were getting faster and more honed. There was no hesitation in his sword and the fear he had shown previously in his sword swing was being melted away swing by swing.

While Aker was in this state, he wasn't concerned with dodging his opponent or even victory or defeat, he was only focused on his sword. His sword had become his entire universe and the universe was only made up of him and his sword.

While Aker was visualizing his attack in his cell he was slashing his sword over and over as if though he was looking for that perfect swing that moment that him and his sword could truly connect and unite as one entity.

The wall of Aker's cell was bearing witness to this moment and was becoming a record of it as each time Aker would slash, he would leave a gnash on the wall, each gnash proof of his swords improvement and change.

The minutes ticked by and Aker continued to use the same swing of his sword only slightly modifying it each time it was raised and lowered. The sweat dripped off Aker's chin as he had been swinging the sword non-stop for over an hour without stopping, without changing position without hesitation...over and over and over again.

As if though planned, each swing would leave another notch on the wall almost perfectly spaced apart by a six to seven millimeters from each other.

'The user of the sword has so many different paths they can take. They can focus on speed or strength. They can make their sword a hero or a villain. The sword can be upright and honest, or it can be full of trickery and lies. Is the villain's sword weaker than the hero's? Does speed beat strength? Will the honest sword always prevail over the sword of trickery?'

Aker's thoughts were racing as he swung his sword realizing that the sword itself was not a set form or idea.

A sudden idea walloped Aker almost shaking him to his core. How could a sword have so many different variations? How could it be so different from hand to hand? Why is that when two people practice the exact same sword movements it's so different between the two.

Sure, to an untrained eye Aker's swing and Vance's swing look identical, but to someone who has practiced with the sword they could clearly tell the difference as easy as telling the difference between heaven and hell.

Aker's swing has been full of hesitation and fear the entire time he has been in The Pit. When Aker practiced, he used his sword to block and defend then counterattack. Vance's sword was full of vitality and blood as it wanted to charge forward ignoring the danger that may lurk around the corner.

As he was swinging his sword and his thoughts were contemplating on the sword Aker could feel himself growing closer and closer to it.

'My sword is a reflection of me. It is a reflection of my desire, my intent and my understanding. If I am afraid my sword will reflect fear. If I am confused my sword will reflect loss. If I am strong my sword will reflect power.'

Aker had just hit upon the essence of the sword. His sword had been a tool for him that he used because he had to use it. Vance had explained that his sword was versatile and up until now Aker hadn't truly understood what he meant by "versatile".

Swinging his sword in this moment he could feel the full effect of his sword's capabilities. He understood that a sword could be whatever he wanted it to be, that was the reason for all of the variations. His sword could stand for justice or revenge or it could be weak and scared or strong and domineering.

He had also hit upon a much deeper truth and that was that each swing of his sword was a clear reflection of his state of mind and heart. This entire time Aker was not trusting his sword and himself he was just going through the motions and making it through the battles however he could.

'My sword is not just a tool; it is a part of me, it represents my life. Without my sword how many times would I have already died in the arena? In reality its more than that, it's a mirror into my heart and soul that doesn't lie. If I want my sword to be strong, stronger than anyone or anything I must trust it, and I have to show it a heart full of power and strength without fear and hesitation. How can I be trusting while hesitating, reluctant or afraid?'

As Aker was having this thought within his soul a seed was forming.

Magic fighters were also capable of giving life and spirit to weapons. This life and spirit didn't begin from the weapon but from the magic fighter themselves. They could create a spirit seed and as they grew and understood their weapon the seed would grow and mature. Each fighter was sharing a piece of their spirit with the weapon, a weapon they had come to understand at the very root of their soul. The reason a magic fighter could only give life to one type of weapon was due to the limitation of their spirit. Who could afford to give piece after piece of their spirit away to grow and nurture seeds?

Very few fighters were capable of growing this seed because it took a person who was willing to share their entire selves down to the root of their soul before they seed could take root. Just like planting a tree or flower it needed to be buried in the soil first.

Aker continued swinging his sword for several hours and during this entire process the soul seed formed by his new understanding of the sword was growing, the entire process unknown to Aker.

Somehow as Aker was swinging, he felt as if though his sword had life breathed into it as it became easier to move his sword into the position he wanted. He found that as his strikes grazed the wall his precision had become dozens of times more accurate, now he was able to leave marks on the wall only two millimeters apart.

While it felt effortless to Aker as he swung, blocked, and stabbed from the observer's point of view the speed, accuracy and strength of Aker's sword raised to whole other level. There was literally no comparing Aker's sword from several hours ago to now.

Aker's growth should have been expected. Based on Aker's talents and abilities his sword should have become much stronger sooner, all of the countless of hours, fights, sweat, and blood that had gone into his swords should have produced more viable results. It was now that Aker's mind had a transformation that all of that effort was able to be realized.

The greatest benefit of Aker taking this long and arduous path was his sword seed. If he was to advance his sword step by step it was doubtful that Aker would have this moment of realization. While his sword would have improved at a fixed interval without the struggles he had to face due to his weakness he would not have come to realization that his sword is a reflection of himself and his heart and soul. Perhaps later down the road he would still form his seed but perhaps he wouldn't have.

Already the benefits Aker would receive from his sword seed could carry him for a lifetime, in reality most fighters who developed the seed never saw it grow beyond being buried. Like any seed it needed to nurtured and cared for in order for it to sprout. Most fighters who have a sudden moment of realization don't ever realize that state again and further never recognized that the seed was formed in their soul to begin with.

In Aker's case he could most certainly tell the difference between his sword now and when he first walked into the cell, however Aker was assured that the difference was due to his mentality change.

While his mentality changes absolutely resulted in a massive change in Aker's battle strength the swords speed, accuracy and efficiency improvements were all related to the newly formed seed.

Each fight was an opportunity for him to get stronger and to advance both his Peerless Body and as a magic fighter "Tomorrow is another opportunity to become stronger even if just a little." Aker said with force and vigor and with a satisfied smile Aker laid down on his beast blood stain.