Bang!
Bang! Bang!
The sound of clashing wood reverberated through the estate’s private training hall.
Seth Terrace, the youngest male sibling in the Terrace family, gritted his teeth as he swung his wooden practice sword toward his uncle, Osbourne Terrace.
The strike was quick and precise, aimed at Osbourne’s midsection, but the older man sidestepped it effortlessly and then sighed.
“You’re too tense,” Osbourne said, catching Seth’s wrist before he could recoil. “Relax your shoulders. Speed comes from control, not force.”
Seth nodded, his dark hair plastered to his forehead from sweat. He adjusted his grip and took a deep breath before swinging again, this time with more fluidity.
“Better,” Osbourne remarked, stepping back to give the boy space. “But you still need to work on your balance. One wrong move, and an opponent will use your momentum against you. I would’ve smacked your head a dozen time if I had utilized that small opening of yours.”
“On to the next.” Osbourne declared.
The two transitioned from close combat to endurance training. Osbourne had Seth running laps around the room while carrying a heavy pack filled with well arranged stone slabs.
Every few laps, Osbourne would shout instructions for him to switch directions or jump, forcing him to remain alert even as his muscles burned.
After seventy minutes, Seth collapsed onto the ground, panting heavily.
“No breaks,” Osbourne said, his tone firm but not unkind. He handed Seth a water pouch. “Drink up, then we move on to essence manipulation.”
Seth groaned but complied. After catching his breath, he sat cross-legged on the floor as Osbourne began instructing him on how to channel his magic essence.
“Close your eyes and focus,” Osbourne said, his own voice calming as he demonstrated the technique. A soft blue glow surrounded his hands as he channeled his essence.
Seth mirrored the action, his brows furrowing in concentration. Small flickers of light began to form around his hands, but they sputtered out just as quickly.
“Again,” Osbourne encouraged. “You won’t get it right the first time. Neither did your brothers.”
As they continued, Seth asked, “Did you do all of this with Damien and Damon too?”
Osbourne nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I did. They trained just as hard, maybe even harder.”
“Who was better?” Seth pressed, his curiosity getting the better of him.
Osbourne chuckled softly. “When it came to close combat, Damien had the edge. He was sharper, quicker on his feet. As for essence manipulation…” He paused, his smile fading slightly. “It was also Damien. He had an uncanny knack for it, like he was born to wield magic.”
Seth tilted his head, puzzled. “But Damien didn’t awaken a strong talent like Damon, right?”
Osbourne sighed, standing up and stretching his legs. “That’s what shocked me. For someone so naturally gifted, his talent turned out weaker than anyone expected.”
Seth’s gaze fell to the ground, and he muttered, “Maybe I’ll end up like him.”
Osbourne crouched down, placing a reassuring hand on Seth’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about that. Talent isn’t everything. What matters is what you do with what you’re given. And Damien, well… He was just really unlucky. The gods didn’t favour him and so he ended up that way.”
Feeling the weight of the conversation, Osbourne rose to his feet, brushing his hands against his trousers. “I need some air,” he said, turning toward the door. “Keep practicing your essence manipulation.”
Seth nodded, though his mind was clearly elsewhere.
Osbourne stepped out into the cool evening air, the estate quiet save for the distant rustling of leaves.
As he strolled through the halls, he spotted a pair of guards marching past him. They saluted him respectfully, and he nodded in return before heading toward his private quarters.
Once inside, Osbourne closed the door and leaned against it for a moment, his eyes scanning the room. It was richly furnished, with ornate tapestries and intricately carved furniture. His gaze landed on an old wooden table in the corner, a piece passed down from his father.
On the table rested a small metallic disc, unassuming at first glance but deeply significant to Osbourne. It was linked to the enchanted sword he’d given Damien, a tool meant to track its status. For months, the disc had remained dormant, giving Osbourne no reason to think otherwise.
But tonight was different.
A faint red glow pulsed from the disc, catching Osbourne’s attention instantly. His heart sank, and with a burst of speed, he crossed the room, reaching the table in an instant.
He stared at the glowing disc, his pulse quickening. “No… this can’t be right,” he murmured, picking it up carefully.
The glow began to fade, but not before Osbourne confirmed what it meant. The color red only appeared for one reason: the weapon it was linked to had been destroyed.
“The sword’s gone!” he exclaimed, “for good this time!” His voice a mixture of shock and anger. He slammed the disc back onto the table, his mind racing.
Osbourne clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. The sword wasn’t just a weapon; it was a symbol of protection, a gift meant to aid Damien in his exile.
Its destruction could only mean one thing: the weapon had faced something—or someone—far beyond what the sword could withstand.
“What must’ve happened? That weapon was made from very rare materials…” Osbourne muttered under his breath.
For several minutes, Osbourne stood motionless, his thoughts spiraling. He considered contacting Lord Terrace, but the ruined relationship between Damien and his father made him hesitate. Besides, he had no solid information, only the ominous sign of the sword’s destruction. It meant absolutely nothing since they’d all concluded that Damien had been dead for a long time.
Taking a deep breath, Osbourne resolved to keep the matter to himself for now. He needed more information before deciding his next course of action.
With one last glance at the now-dormant disc, Osbourne left the room, his expression grim. His steps were heavy as he made his way back to the training hall, where Seth was still diligently practicing his essence manipulation.
Osbourne watched the boy for a moment, his thoughts returning to Damien. “I hope you’re still out there, kid,” he whispered. “And I hope you’re strong enough to survive whatever’s coming your way.”