Ragnar carefully picked his way over the rocky hill. It was severely uneven and jagged here, barely offering enough room to step anywhere without getting one's foot stuck or standing on a rock spike. He had been doing this for a while now, and was rather sweaty from the focus it was taking. His feet were also starting to hurt as he made his way onward.
After reaching his decision, Bahamut had led him to the outskirts of the City of the Ancients, and then off of the shell road. From there, they hiked through the forest for a considerable distance. Ragnar found himself attracted to the forest when he passed through. It seemed to have a faint glow to it as he passed by…and some sort of mist hung low on it. It made it seem very dreamlike and strange. This forest too was an ancient place, and full of some mystery… But he wasn't able to focus on that. Bahamut continued to lead him on, taking them around through the woods and began to circle back north. Once they did that, they gradually came out of the woods and back to the rock walls. They ascended these (with Bahamut giving a lot of help to Ragnar), and then began to cross their rough surfaces. They had been at that for about an hour now. The sun was still high, but it had lowered considerably from that morning.
Bahamut, of course, crossed this area easily. Frequently, he had to stop and give Ragnar a chance to catch up. He was doing so now. Once the youth got close enough, he turned and continued on.
"Um…er…Mr. Bahamut?" Ragnar called out uncertainly.
"We have a pupil/master relationship now." Bahamut calmly answered. "Usually during this time, I get addressed as either Master or Sir."
"Er…Master Bahamut…" Ragnar tossed back out. "Where exactly are we going?"
"You probably read at one point in our history of a weapon we made thousands of years ago. It was made with part of the life force of each of the original espers, even Crusader. It was crude at the time, seeing as none of us knew how to make a sword. Fortunately, as we later discovered, the weapon itself was alive…esper-like in and of itself. It changed itself with time to configure to the user. Today, there is only one blade stronger than it in the world.
"Its last owner lost it here somewhere. I'm not sure why he relinquished it, but that doesn't matter now. Because it has its own energy signature, I was able to track it to near here. In our native language, the language we were born speaking, we named it 'Blade of the Espers'. It wasn't until generations later that I discovered that the name we gave it had another translation, for it was similar to a phrase spoken in the language of the Cetra. I thought little of it then…until now. Now, when I met you face to face… Now I believe it is destiny."
Ragnar was a bit puzzled at this response, but he continued to follow after Bahamut.
They kept going for about another five minutes, slowly picking their way over the rough ground. Ragnar stumbled a few times, and got more than a few bruises, but he managed to keep up. At last, something began to come straight ahead of them. Bahamut paused when he saw it, giving Ragnar the impetus to look up as well. The ground was still rough and jagged all around them, almost like a rockslide, but in the ground just ahead there was a hole and a dip in the ground. It seemed to lead into a slightly underground cave. Bahamut turned back to Ragnar and gestured to it. The youth nodded, and followed after him as he continued to approach. After a few moments, they had reached the threshold, and began to enter.
Inside, it was just as rough and jagged as the outside, to Ragnar's chagrin. However, it was also getting dark now. He let out quite a few cries of pain as he stumbled forward, trying to find his way through the rocks without breaking something. He tried to follow Bahamut as best as he could, to avoid getting damaged. They plunged into darkness for a few moments, walking along into the dark recesses.
However, just a bit further ahead, Ragnar started to see light again. This helped illuminate the ground once more, but he also noticed that the ground was getting smoother. It was still rough and uneven, but the rocks were in much larger pieces, providing a flat surface to put one's entire foot on. This was a godsend to Ragnar, whose ankles cried for relief. He stepped on them and worked his way forward faster, heading closer and closer to the light.
At last, Bahamut came to a halt just ahead. Ragnar kept going down for a moment, before he saw the tunnel widen just ahead of the esper. He went down the rest of the way, and stopped alongside his new master. The cave had terminated, but not before widening into a rather large internal area. It was rough in here too. It looked like the cave couldn't have formed too long ago. It gave the impression of it being very fragile, considering how rough and jagged it was. But it also seemed stable enough. There were a few holes in the ceiling of this cave, letting sunlight through in enough rays to totally illuminate the internal area.
The two stood in the entrance a brief moment. Then, Bahamut raised a hand and pointed into the cave. Ragnar looked as well. Bathed in one of the rays, sitting inside one of the stones, was a metal handle. It was huge, giving enough room for a very large grip. Its blade was inside the rock, and it appeared to have been jabbed into the ground and left there.
"I mentioned destiny before, Ragnar." Bahamut continued. "I don't think it was a coincidence that our word for 'Blade of the Espers' also meant something coherent in the Cetra language. I think this blade was meant for you since time immemorial. Take it."
Ragnar looked back to Bahamut for a moment at this, but then turned back. The handle beckoned him. The young man hesitated a second longer, but then swallowed and stepped forward. This felt strange…like the beginning of some new legend. However, he walked forward none the less, making his way to the sword.
After a few moments, he passed into the light rays streaming into the area. He hesitated there. They made him feel a bit different when he passed out of the darkness and into the light. Yet after a second longer, he stepped forward once again. He soonfound himself standing over the hilt. He looked down to it a moment. It wasn't just inserted here. It had to be imbedded in the stone. He turned uncertainly back to the esper. Bahamut merely gave him a nod, and so he turned back to the ground. He swallowed again, but then finally bent over to it.
Very carefully, Ragnar placed his hands around the hilt. It felt cold to the touch, and it sent a shiver down his spine. He tightened his grip, and then braced himself. After taking in one deep breath, he pulled back with all of his might.
The sword slid easily out, just like a hot knife through butter. Ragnar leapt back a bit from the force, unexpecting the low resistance, as he hoisted the blade from the ground. It was huge, a very long and very fat blade. It was nearly the size of Ragnar itself. And yet it came forth easily. Once it was out, and he recovered from his stumbling backward, he held it up in front of him. In the light of the sun, it shone with a pale white light. It looked smooth and flawless. Ragnar looked up and down the blade as he held it. There appeared to be some sort of writing on it…but something he couldn't make out…
Yet Ragnar forgot about that soon after. The blade suddenly felt warm in his hands…and he thought he detected something from it. It was like there was a current of energy moving through it, rippling into his body. What he touched soon seemed to be filled with power…almost like a living thing in his grasp. He could feel it coming off of it. The wind that came by actually blew warm breezes from the blade into his face. As he looked on at it, however, he received another shock. It began to change.
The long, straight pale blade suddenly curved inward slightly, turning it into more of a schimitar in shape. As it did, the edges of the blade began to peel off and curve back, as if flaring from the main sword. His handle shifted in his own grasp, altering into something new. The blade turned from a pale white to a burning gold as it distorted. Ragnar watched the transformation take place in his hands, too stunned and nervous to do anything else with it.
At last, the transformation was complete. It still felt alive in his hands, but it was a new sword now. The hilt he grasped was golden with jewels and precious stones worked into it. The sword itself had twisted back and frayed out smaller blades in such a way that it was in the shape of a flame now. Not only that, but its golden color shimmered and sparkled in the light of the day. It had so many fine details to it that as he turned it in the sun, it appeared that he was not holding a sword at all, but a blade of fire. He was wielding what looked like a living flame.
Ragnar stared at it a moment, feeling its warmth and the power within it. Then, he moved it. He swung it twice in the air, testing it out. It was light as a feather. Huge as it was, Ragnar lifted it with ease. And as it went through the air, it seemed to cut it so sharply and in just such the right way...that it almost sounded like fire burning. The youth continued to stare at it as Bahamut slowly made his way up to him. Only when the esper was behind him did Ragnar turn and look to him, and then back to the sword.
"Behold…Ragnarok." Bahamut announced. "A name which, in the Cetra tongue, literally means, 'Flame of Ragnar'."
The young man snapped back to Bahamut at that in surprise. He turned back to the sword afterward, and saw it sparkling in the sun. Ragnarok…the legendary blade of the espers… Ragnar could see that the runes were still on the side of the sword, and now he knew what they were. They were the names of the original espers, and all of their progeny. Every time one of them had a child, the name was added to the sword automatically. He had read the legend. But hearing this…hearing that this sword had been named as being his flame… And now, seeing it spontaneously turn into a sword of fire in his grasp…it astonished the young man. For the first time…he truly began to realize that this destiny Bahamut spoke of was no joke.
For a long time, he just stood there, staring at the sword. It took him a while to get it all in. At the end, he swallowed again, and turned back to Bahamut, slowly exhaling.
"Alright…so now what?"
"Now we go back and rest for tonight." The esper answered. "Tomorrow, we start early."
Ragnar was right in the middle of a rather peaceful dream of the City of the Ancients…when a feeling of being wet and cold covered him and broke it off.
Sputtering and coughing, Ragnar rose out of his makeshift bed with a snap. Cold water was now dripping down his face and soaking his pillow and blanket. He immediately put his hands against his head and unconsciously swiped away at the water there. He did so for a few moments, spitting and clearing his throat, before opening his eyes and looking ahead of him.
Bahamut stood over him, holding an empty bucket, and staring at him plainatively.
"Next time get up when I tell you to."
Ragnar frowned and looked around a bit. The inside of the house was always well lit, but he could see outside through the door opening. It was still almost black out. Only a slight bit of blue was showing. It couldn't have been later than five in the morning. Ragnar turned up to the esper again.
"Do we really have to start this early?"
"If you want to get done with everything I have planned, yes." Bahamut answered. "And don't talk back. Just do it."
Ragnar grumbled a bit, and began to crawl out of his makeshift bed. He hoped that this was worth it.
After getting breakfast, Ragnar and Bahamut both went outside. It was still pretty dark out, but the white glow from overhead always illuminated this place. Ragnar had torn his uniform pants into shorts, and had discarded all except the simple sleeveless t-shirt. He had also butchered down his boots into simple shoes. Once both were out and standing a good distance from the pond, in the open, Bahamut turned to him.
"Now then, first thing we need to do is stretches."
Ragnar raised an eyebrow. "Stretches?"
The esper frowned at him in response. "Didn't I tell you I hate repeating myself? And what did I tell you about talking back? Don't do it again, or you'll regret it."
Ragnar was a bit unnerved at how serious Bahamut said this last portion. He clammed up and did as he was told. Bahamut proceeded to show him various ways of stretching his whole body, which Ragnar followed. He was rather stiff and tight in many places. He could barely do some of the harder ones. What really astonished him, however, was that Bahamut devoted a whole thirty minutes just to this. Ragnar hadn't expected to spend so much time just doing the introductory stuff. However, it was finally over. When it was, both he and Bahamut were sitting on the ground across from each other.
"Now…what I am going to try to teach you is a combination of the Fabul Monk Training Regimen in addition to the sword fighting style perfected by my brother Odin. Feel free to supplement the style if you like, especially if you find anything in your reading that looks good. Surprise me. Now then, for your first bit. Fifty pushups, fifty situps, fifty crunches, fifty leg lifts, and then go to that branch over there that's just higher than you for fifty pullups and fifty chinups."
Ragnar's eyes widened. "That many?"
WHAM
Ragnar soon felt that someone had taken a steel pipe to the side of his face, and whipped his head down violently. A hot pain flashed against his cheek, and his skull and face throbbed in pain. Wincing, he looked back up to what had happened. He saw Bahamut suddenly standing over him. He had moved that quickly. What more, his hand was now curled forward in a gesture like he had just slapped something. Ragnar immediately recognized it was him. His eyes looked down cold and hard at him, with some irritation.
"I warned you not totalk backagain. I'll do worse next time. If you have energy to complain, you have energy to do it. Now go."
Ragnar stared back up at him a moment. He couldn't help but feel a little angry at being struck, but at the same time he wasn't going to dispute the esper any more. Without a word, he twisted himself over, put his body against the ground, and began to do the pushups.
It took forever to do all the exercises. Ragnar was covered with sweat when he was finally finished. He had never done more than twenty pushups at a time in his life, let alone this other stuff with it. However, he didn't complain again, but silently submitted to what Bahamut had him do. The esper was patient with him. When he became too exhausted to keep going, Bahamut calmly waited for him to recover and finish the amount he was doing. By the time he was finally finished, he was rather tired and sore. As he managed to yank his body over the last chinup, Bahamut nodded and began to walk forward. Ragnar exhaled and fell to the ground. By now, it was much lighter out, nearly dawn.
"Alright, that's it for the warmup." Bahamut announced.
Ragnar just managed to keep himself from blurting out: Warm up?
"Next is some running. Endurance is a valuable commodity to have. But before we do that, I'd like to add a little something."
With that, the esper turned to one side. He looked down to a nearby large rock, and made a gesture to it. It immediately lifted into the air. Bahamut did another gesture with his fingers, and to Ragnar's surprise the rock altered. It broke into smaller pieces, shifted around somewhat, and took on a new form. In the end, when Bahamut was done with it, two boots, two arm bands, and what looked like upper shoulder armor fell to the ground with a crash.
Bahamut saw Ragnar's surprise, and cracked a small smile. "Most espers knew how to conjure advanced items by molding regular raw materials with their minds. However, after gaining my Neo form, I gained the ability to manipulate matter on the atomic level, making it possible for me to form any small item out of anything. It only works on small items, however. Larger ones are too much of a strain even for me. Now, put those on."
Ragnar stepped forward to the new items, kicking off his flimsy shoes in the process. He sat down on the ground, and started by putting on the boots. However, to his surprise, they were a bit heavy. They held his feet down when he put them on. He put on the arm bands next, and found a similar effect. They so weighed down his limbs that he had some trouble putting on the upper shoulder armor, which he found was weighted too. Once he had all this on, he slowly got back to his feet. It wasn't easy. He wobbled a bit under the new weight. At last, he stood up.
Bahamut pointed to him. "You'll notice that you are now weighted in several key areas. I've put on a grand total of about 50 extra pounds onto your body. From now on, leave those on morning, noon, and night. Do your morning warmups with them on. Even doing regular activities will work you out somewhat now."
Ragnar let out a groan, hoping that didn't count as talking back.
"Don't look so grim." The esper responded. "Being depressed will only give you less energy. Now, let's get going. It will take a while to do ten miles."
The sun was well in the sky when Ragnar's sweaty, nearly collapsing body dragged itself to a stop by where Bahamut had halted. Bahamut hadn't been joking about the ten miles. What he had neglected to mention is that a considerable amount of it had been uphill on rough terrain. He could barely move on the rough terrain, unable to be light enough in step or as certain with his steps in the weights. What more, as he grew tired, he began to collapse along the trail, and became so weak in the knees that he could barely keep his feet from shaking. He struggled hard not to fall down flat in front of his master.
"Ok, you'll get about a fifteen minute break." Bahamut responded. "After that, it's time for one more exercise before lunch."
The esper gestured to one side. Ragnar, still trying to stay standing, turned his head to the area. They were back in the forest at the moment, and on one of the pathways that someone had blazed through it. But just to the side, a few feet away from where Bahamut stood, was a small river. It was shallow and thin, allowing the formation of rapids and a fast movement of water. This was where Bahamut was pointing. The youth looked to it, then back to him.
"The next exercise is swimming. Swimming is good because it works every muscle in the body, as well as builds endurance. From here, the City of the Ancients is about a mile upstream. Swim there."
Ragnar struggled hard not to cry out. His muscles began to ache already. His body quivered with fear just at the thought of doing this. He slowly turned back to the river…and saw it was moving downstream very quickly. Some of the parts were indeed rapids. He turned back to Bahamut after that, and spoke somewhat mildly.
"Master…do I at least get to take off my weights?"
"Of course you don't." The esper simply replied. "That will make this an even better workout. And it will help keep you from being swept downstream if you stop. Don't worry. I'll be keeping an eye on you. If you get your foot stuck and your head is sucked underwater, I'll bail you out."
"…Thanks." Ragnar answered in the most halfhearted tone he had ever managed.
By the time Ragnar half dragged what was left of his body out of the water and limped back to the City of the Ancients, he felt like a dead salmon. He had nearly been drowned more than once, and his body was covered with bruises from where he had been banged around on the rapids and hit himself in the wrong places. It had been a nightmare. Even now, Ragnar could still feel his body being tossed around violently by the water, and he stank of freshwater algae. He was still trying to get his breath back.
However, be that as it may, he was also starving. He never recalled digging into beetles so vigorously. His appetite had never been so worked up before. The only problem is that he felt so weak, his appendages quivered as he struggled to feet himself. He could barely put a berry into his mouth without crushing it against his face first. Despite how meager it was, it was one of the better meals he had in a long time in terms of satisfaction. And it did recharge precious energy reserves.
When they finished eating, Bahamut helped Ragnar back to his feet, for he was a bit too wobbly to balance himself. After that, he led Ragnar to the outskirts of the City of the Ancients yet again. He went back into the forest, but not too far. He just went far enough to take his student into a clearing in the trees. He came to a stop here. Ragnar, tired and limping, came up to him and halted as well.
"Alright now." Bahamut began, gesturing to the field around him. "Time for the afternoon exercises. This one will provide some benefits to you besides just being in terms of strength. I don't know about you, but I'm eventually going to get sick of eating beetles and berries for every meal. So I thought we might as well raise a garden while we're here. This place will provide a good field. Of course, it will have to be plowed and cleared first, and that's where you come in."
Ragnar grimaced a bit at this, and let out another slow groan.
"Stop groaning all the time." Bahamut retorted. "What are you, an old oak?"
The youth suppressed a sigh, and turned to the field around him. He blinked for a moment, and then turned from side to side, looking a bit confused and puzzled. After a moment, he turned back to Bahamut and shrugged. "Where's the hoe?"
"If the good Lord intended you to use a hoe, he wouldn't have given you two hands." The esper calmly answered.
Ragnar's eyes bulged again. "You…" He piped out, before managing to silence himself. He was about to say: You've got to be kidding me. This was madness to him, or some bizarre form of torture. Now he was going to literally work his fingers to the bone digging a piece of farmland with his bare hands. His face became strained and anxious, and he looked at Bahamut rather pathetically.
However, the esper merely waved him on. "Well, get going." He ordered. "The sooner its done, the sooner you can get the food from it."
Ragnar's hands were red and throbbing, and his nails felt like they were nearly pried off of his fingers. His hands were stained with dirt that he thought would never come out, and his back and arms ached from bending over and digging so much. For all his effort, he had only managed to "plow" a ten foot long row. He had to dig deep, raking his hands against stones and other subterranean bugs as he went, in order to fulfill Bahamut's standards of plowing down and deep. Yet after a few hours, that latest part of the torture was finished, and Ragnar was led on into the forest again.
Now, he found himself standing next to a rather large tree. There was a good open space around it, because it had a thick overhead canopy that blotted out most life below. Bahamut, at first, ordered him just to stand next to the tree. Once he had done so, the esper produced a large sack that he had no doubt materialized earlier, probably during lunch. Ragnar looked to all of this curiously, wondering what the next horror Bahamut had planned for him was.
The esper started by reaching into the sack. He emerged with a small box with a single sliding compartment. This, he handed to Ragnar. "Do not open this." He told him as the youth took it. "But shake it now, as hard as you can. Keep shaking until I say stop."
The young man hesitated, but then shrugged and did what Bahamut said. In response, he heard a clicking inside of it, but nothing else. While he did this, he watched his master. To his surprise, Bahamut next pulled out a rather long length of chain from his sack. He started by looping it around the tree, giving it just enough room to rotate freely around it, and then chained it closed with a padlock. He then went to Ragnar next. As the youth continued to shake the box, Bahamut attached some sort of special belt to Ragnar's waist, and then attached the chain to it with another padlock. Lastly, he locked the belt to Ragnar's waist tightly, making sure there was no way he could get it off, and then chained this closed as well.
"Master, what is this?" Ragnar asked at this point.
"An exercise that works on your reflexes and maneuverability." Bahamut explained. "You will have to successfully dodge what is attacking you within a limited range."
The young man looked confused again. "And…what's attacking me?"
"Stop shaking and open the box."
Ragnar hesitated, but then looked down, stopped shaking, and slid open the compartment. As he did, Bahamut took a few tentative steps back, away from the youth. As for Ragnar, he saw nothing for a moment…before three very large, very angry-looking wasps buzzed out of the box, and immediately set their sights on the youth in front of them.
"These are special Torian Wasps." Bahamut explained, now a distance away. "They can sting continuously for an hour. They aren't poisonous, but their sting is quite painful none the less. There is your enemy. Begin."
Ragnar didn't hear this last word. He was too busy screaming in agony.
Now, Ragnar felt like a pincushion. They may not have been poisonous, but that didn't stop them from leaving every square inch of his exposed flesh feeling tender and sore. He lost track after the first five minutes of how many times he had been stung. However, he had been chained there for an hour. And true to Bahamut's word, the wasps didn't get tired of stinging their victim, even when he fell to the ground and appeared dead, for that time. If they had been poisonous, Ragnar realized the pain would have killed him after fifteen minutes… There was one exercise that he felt himself growing very anxious about doing tomorrow…
But still they weren't done. Now, Bahamut took him back to the City of the Ancients. He hoped that meant that there was something easy this time. The esper wound him around through the various shell streets, and made his way north. Ragnar hadn't been this way before, because there were no houses. However, he led him just the same, and the youth continued to twist and turn after him.
"Again, this next exercise, and our final standard one for the day, will confer immediate benefits. So long as you're living in the City of the Ancients, you should probably do something to help make it more inhabitable. This last project is construction and restoration. You will be working to help rebuild this town for you and anyone else who comes here."
The youth exhaled a bit, but did manage a slight smile. This was something he was interested in doing for a change. In the end, he gave a shrug. "Well, alright then. I'd like that."
"Good." Bahamut answered. "First things first…I'll need you to clear some rubble off a road that blocks another path out of the city."
With this, Bahamut halted and gestured ahead. Ragnar stopped as well and looked in front of him. His smile immediately faded. He saw the road end just a bit further along the way. But the "some rubble" was not rubble at all. It was a rather monstrous rockslide that had run down over this part of the road thousands of years ago. The rock had sedimented together and now formed a strong and impregnable looking barrier. It looked almost like part of the mountain chain at this point. It would take a work crew months to clear this out alone with heavy equipment. Ragnar turned a bit white yet again, and then looked back to Bahamut.
The esper responded by holding out a simple pick axe to him.
"You should be happy. I'm letting you use a tool this time."
Ragnar was very glad that when dinner arrived Bahamut didn't force him to use his hands. They were tingling and raw now, feeling like they were burning. He couldn't grasp anything with them, for being so sore. He was hunched over and stiff too. With the greatest effort, he managed to eat his meal almost like a dog. He began to wonder if every hero's first day was this miserable…
When dinner was over with, Bahamut took Ragnar out back to the opening in the City of the Ancients. At last, he told Ragnar to strap on his sword. The youth's hands had just recovered enough to be able to hold it, and he was glad that it was so lightweight or he never would have lifted it. Bahamut himself stood opposite him, and began to crack his neck and limber himself up. As he did, he snapped his hand down once. Immediately, a white sword materialized in his hand. Ragnar reacted in surprise yet again as it appeared. However, he calmed quickly, and looked down at it. It appeared to be a fine weapon itself, gleaming in the dim light of the setting sun, and sharp and double-edged. The handle looked like it was made out of dragonscale and bone… For all Ragnar knew, it was.
Bahamut himself grimaced a little. He waved his sword two and fro through the air a moment, and then looked back to Ragnar. "I'm not going to pretend to be an expert, Ragnar. I memorized much of Odin's technique, but at best I'm just an advanced student, not a proper mentor. I never used swords. However, I do know enough to know that I will be teaching you a very specific style. Before I begin, I want to tell you something. In case the historical accounts didn't make it clear, let me tell you. In every single fight between me and my brother, I was always sorely outclassed. In terms of strength, speed, and stamina, I was the one who always lacked. And yet, I beat him twice and seriously damaged him on another occasion. Do you know why?"
Ragnar stared back silently for a moment, but in the end shook his head. "No, master."
"Because my opponent lost his focus." Bahamut simply answered. "He lost control. He grew angry and made blatant mistakes. Without the proper focus, anger is nothing but a hindrance. I was able to stay alive in my fight with Griever and outdo Wyvern multiple times because I used my brain. Whenever possible, I made the enemy play into my hands. When they do that, you are the one in control, even if you appear to be on the defensive. It's up to them to make themselves formidable, because while they think they're pushing you back, they're the one who had better not show any weaknesses to exploit. Lose your temper…and you'll be dead in seconds. Keep control. Keep focus. And where you are concerned…never initiate the fight. Understand?"
The youth gave a single nod.
Bahamut nodded back. "Very well. Then let's begin. We'll start slow. Get into your ready position."
At this, Bahamut demonstrated it. He spread out his legs, appropriating the proper balance to each limb, and then raised the sword and brandished it in front of him in a way that gave him the ability to attack, but also made a good guard. Ragnar looked at this a moment, but then mimicked the great esper. He shifted his feet out in the same way, and raised his sword into the same position.
Bahamut gave a nod. "Very good. Now…begin."
Ragnar immediately yanked up Ragnarok, gave a yell, and stormed forward with the sword behind his head, ready to bring it down in a massive overhead chop on Bahamut. The esper watched him for one second doing this, before emitting a tired sigh. Then, just as Ragnar was about to get in range, he merely put his sword down, stood up, and answered Ragnar with a powerful thrust kick right into his exposed stomach.
The air went rushing out of the youth's lungs before the force of the blow ripped him off of his feet and made him sail backward a good seven feet. He landed on the ground hard, bouncing a bit, and he gagged and winced as a result. Ragnarok clattered out of his grasp. He gasped, trying to get his breath back, and wincing and writing on the ground a moment. His whole lower body was wracked with pain. At last, he managed to open his eyes, but at that point he froze. Bahamut was poised over him, and his sword was at his throat.
The young man paled for a moment. Cold sweat ran down his brow. However, it lasted only a second. After that, Bahamut pulled the sword away from him, and extended a free hand downward. Ragnar hesitated, but then reached up and grabbed it. The esper pulled him to his feet soon after.
"Two lessons to learn from this." Bahamut spoke. "One…never leave yourself so open. Two…listen to me when I tell you something. I told you that your stance has to be defensive. Don't make the first move. Wait for me and then intercept."
Ragnar looked a bit downcast at this, but gave a nod in response. He slowly exhaled, picked Ragnarok back up, and went back to his position. Bahamut then turned and walked back to where he was before. He turned and held up his blade again. Both returned to the ready position, and touched swords.
"Alright…begin."
Ragnar didn't move a muscle.
Bahamut's brow creased in irritation. "What's wrong with you? I told you to begin!"
The youth looked a bit surprised at that, and was caught off guard. He fumbled a moment, but then dove forward and brought his blade down again, this time keeping it lower by shoving it down on Bahamut once more. The esper snorted. With one hand, he easily flung Ragnar's blade to one side and out of his grip…and then shot forward like lightning to smash his elbow in the young man's face. It was only because he went easy on Ragnar that the youth's nose didn't shatter. At any rate, he was knocked back even further this time as sharp, dazzling pain radiated through his skull. He groaned on the ground, unable to rise from that blow. Within an instant, Bahamut was on him again, and pointing his sword at his throat.
The esper looked to him with disdain when he pulled his sword away. "Ragnar…do you have some problem understanding me?" He addressed him. "This is the third time I'm having to tell you not to make the first move."
The youth shook his head, clearing the stars out of his eyes. But then, he looked back up to Bahamut with a puzzled expression, and even a bit irritated. "But…you told me to begin. You yelled at me when I didn't attack…"
"And what do you think your opponent is going to be doing in battle?" Bahamut snapped back harshly. "Making pleasant conversation? Complimenting your mother? Your opponent is going to be yelling at you, cursing you, goading you, and doing everything he can to unsettle you so that you're that much easier to kill. So that you understand things a bit more clearly…whenever we spar, I am your enemy, not your teacher. I will be doing everything in my power to be as fierce and ruthless as a true opponent would be. As such, you had better not listen to anything I say until I tell you we are finished. Now…let's try it again."
The esper extended a hand to Ragnar once more. The youth swallowed a bit, feeling a bit uncomfortable again. However, he took the hand in the end and got pulled back to his feet. Once he was up, he began to go for his sword next.
"And by the way," Bahamut added as he did this. "You know that I am a good ten times stronger than you. I know that I am a good thousand times stronger than you.So why are you attempting to overpower me? You should play to your strengths if you don't know my weaknesses. Look for an opening instead."
The youth slowly exhaled, but nodded as he bent down and grabbed Ragnarok again. After this, however, he inhaled and stiffened himself. He was going to do it right this time. No matter what happened, he was going to please Bahamut. He was going to do everything he said correctly, and handle this using his brain. He was determined to do it before this night was done. Once he had his sword, he immediately returned and went into ready position. His face was more stern now, focused and determined on getting it right.
Bahamut saw this…and stoicly raised his own blade and touched it to his. Both were at the ready, and glared into each other's eyes for a moment.
"Begin."
Ragnar didn't move a muscle. His own eyes pierced Bahamut's strong, powerful ones, and he held. He wouldn't move first this time. He would wait and act on what he saw. He stood as still as a statue, waiting for Bahamut to make the first move. The esper stared silently back, glaring at him with his old cold vision.
A minute passed…then another…and another…and another… Ten minutes went by, and still neither opponent moved. Bahamut was as cold and steely as ever. Ragnar was confused. Why wasn't he moving? Was this another test or something? He thought of attacking at this point…but he quickly dismissed the idea. He wouldn't be the first this time. No matter what. He continued to hold, and didn't change his outer expression in the least.
Ten minutes later…and Ragnar began to quiver. Light as Ragnarok was, it was a pain to hold it in this position. The youth was too sore and tired from that day. His knees were beginning to shake, and his grip trembled. Ragnarok slowly scraped alongside of Bahamut's own sword. But still, the esper was as still as a statue, and glared at him unendingly. Ragnar forced himself to do the same.
Thirty minutes later…and nothing. The youth was beginning to breathe hard now, trying to keep his eyes focused on Bahamut. He was blinking regularly now, and struggling to stay aloft. His legs were turning to jelly. He wavered on his feet, touching and removing his sword from Bahamut's every few seconds. He was exhausted and sore. His muscles were burning. He couldn't keep this up forever…but still Bahamut did not move. Ragnar thought of attacking again. It would be better to lose than to stay in this agonizing position. But he was determined not to disobey Bahamut this time…and he waited. He began to wonder if Bahamut was in some sort of trance, or even if he had fallen asleep with his eyes open. However, he continued to stand and wait in the end.
After another ten minutes, it was too much. The strain was making Ragnar dizzy. He hadn't the reserves left for this. He was nearly stumbling on his own two feet now. It didn't matter whether or not Bahamut was going to attack him or not anymore, or if he would yell at him for breaking off. He couldn't do it anymore. Letting out a groan, Ragnar let his arms drop, he released Ragnarok, and then clattered to the ground in a heap.
The young man closed his eyes and lay there. His muscles screamed for joy at relaxing. His stiffness was assuaged. But in the end…he knew he couldn't do it. He had broken off. Still, he lay against the ground and struggled to regain his strength. It didn't matter. When he finally had some of his bearings back, he cracked open his eyes, expecting to see Bahamut standing over him with his sword at his throat.
He was a bit surprised with what he saw instead. Bahamut was crouched over him now, and he was giving him a small smile.
"Well done."
Ragnar blinked once, and looked confused. "Well done? I passed out before my opponent…"
"True, but that was beyond your control." Bahamut simply replied. "What you did do was obey me. You refused to let my own silence and stillness, nor your own exhaustion and irritation, goad you into making the wrong move. It seems you do know how to obey and listen, even when the results are painful for you. You've mastered the first tenet of this technique in the first night, when many other people would lack the patience to do so. I wanted to make sure to hammer this lesson home before anything else.
"We will do no more for sword practice tonight. Tomorrow, we'll truly begin with moves and steps. True sparring is still a good month away. For now, I want you to go to bed. This was your first day, so I'll let you sleep. Starting tomorrow, however, I'll want you to start reading some of that suggested material. I learned long ago that improving one's body is only half of the way to being a great warrior. Your mind must also continue to train."
The esper held out a hand to Ragnar. The youth sighed tiredly.
"I'm too tired to move…"
The esper withdrew his hand after that. He looked down at the youth for a moment, seeming to be considering something. Then, in the end, he reached out and grabbed Ragnar by the shoulder. Pulling him off the ground with ease, he raised him up with one arm, and put his other arm behind his own neck and held it. He stood, bringing Ragnar to his feet with him. The young man was a bit surprised. He didn't think Bahamut was going to give him any assistance tonight. However, the esper merely smiled at him, before turning to the shell house and beginning to drag Ragnar back toward it.
The young man thought for a moment after this, thinking about what Bahamut had told him. In truth…it made him feel a bit happy. So he had done something right in the end after all. And he made the esper proud…made his idol proud. That was something of high estimation to the young man. It made him feel good inside. And that made everything else a bit more bearable…a bit more hopeful.
As Bahamut took Ragnar across the threshold and into the home, the youth, for the first time that day, looked forward to continuing the training tomorrow.
To be continued...
