Kian Goldmaul POV

  It’s been a few months since I started learning some magic. I’m currently 4 years old. It’s the afternoon. In the morning, I did martial arts training with Niko, and now I will do swordsmanship like in the usual routine, but this afternoon it seems like another thing will be added.

  Niko’s towering figure is standing in front of me, but unlike as usual, we’re not in the backyard but inside the house.

  “Alright, listen. We will be changing the routine a little. From today, once every week you will be sparring with the doll I control so you would have a bit more fighting experience. As for martial arts sparring, it will come later. You need stronger basics first. Unlike swordsmanship, unarmed fighting depends heavily on clean technique, so we’ll delay sparring until your foundation is solid, as it needs more control over your body—and your small and young body doesn’t help. Or we would’ve started months ago.”

  After saying that, he pauses for a few moments, thinking about something before talking.

  “For the sparring, we wouldn’t do it in the backyard like usual but in a more professional place. We will go to the city’s civil–military training facility because sparring over there is safer.”

  “Alright, follow me. We will be heading there. We will be taking public transport as it’s a bit far from us, and we will be going to the tramway stop. There is one close to us. It will put us almost directly next to the facility. Alright, let’s waste no time and go. And there is no need to prepare anything—they have everything you need, besides the doll, which I will bring with me.”

  After he finished speaking, he walks through the front door as I hurry to follow behind him. As we leave the house, we walk through the housing areas on pavement, and after what felt like 5 minutes, we arrive at the tramway stop.

  After a minute, the tram arrives. It only has 2 cars and 1 extra floor for upstairs—a double-decker tram with an almost flat front. Almost fully white, beside some blue stripes. Unlike the glider, the tram is connected to the rails at the ground.

  As it stops, the doors open and a small cable connects to it on the top, which is likely for recharging.

  We start boarding and sit on the first two empty seats we find, I sit next to the train wall while Niko sits on the other seat.

  As the doors close, the conductor starts collecting the fare. As he arrives to us, he speaks.

  “Is the kid with you?” Niko nods at him as he withdraws what seems like a card from his wallet, which was in his pocket, and presses it against the scanner, paying for the ride.

  …

  …

  …

  After 11 minutes and passing multiple areas—housing, shopping, and open space areas—we arrive.

  After walking for dozens of seconds, we arrive in front of the facility.

  It’s quite simple. The building is rectangular—50 meters long, 30 meters wide, and four stories tall, with a flat roof. Multiple windows at the front on all floors, and there’s a wide entrance at the center.

  The facade is gray stone, with no banners—just a plain sign above the entrance that reads: “Martial Arts Training Facility.”

  As we enter, we’re greeted by a front desk where a man around the age of 40 is sitting in front of a computer.

  He looks up at Niko, not recognizing him. “Are you here to register?”

  Niko nods slightly before reaching to his wallet and bringing out a different card and handing it to the receptionist, who scans it.

  “Niko Papas?” he says before looking at me. “The kid’s name?”

  “Kian Goldmaul.” After saying my name, he hands him another card.

  After 3 minutes, he hands Niko the cards back with two certificates. “The kid can only enter with you or his parent until he’s of age.”

  After another minute, he hands a different card and says, “Room 302.”

  We excuse ourselves and get in the elevator. After we arrive, Niko scans the card on the door card reader and we enter.

  The room is 12 meters long and 8 meters wide, mostly empty. The floor is covered in thick, dark gray rubber matting. The same matting lines the walls on all sides except the front wall.

  The front wall holds four full-length mirrors, evenly spaced, surrounded by the same rubber padding.

  On the left wall, racks hold multiple sparring weapons: wooden practice swords with rubber tips and edges, rubber-tipped spears, training knives, and more—all designed to reduce injury.

  The right wall has a row of multiple simple benches bolted to the floor.

  The room is clean, quiet, and well-maintained. Not a speck of dust.

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  “Well then, we will start immediately.” Niko heads straight to the rack. He picks two of the smallest swords in there.

  He hands me one while he puts the other on the floor and reaches for his backpack.

  He withdraws the familiar doll from it, which has the exact height and body structure as me.

  The doll looks no different from a human kid—with hands, legs, torso, and other body parts. The only difference is that it’s fully gray without any hair and no face.

  He throws it at the ground. Before long, Niko goes to the bench and sits down.

  After a few seconds, the doll stands up, as it seems he started controlling it. The doll picks up the wooden sword and walks 2 meters away.

  “Alright, kid, whenever you are ready.” I nod and put the sword in the fighting position I trained. I breathe in and out a few times before talking. “Ready.”

  I grip the sword a bit tighter as the doll walks toward me slowly, step by step.

  When it arrives at my strike distance, I move first. I lift the sword slightly upward and on my left shoulder, twisting my hips, and strike the doll with a diagonal cut.

  The doll’s shoulder moves and swings left, side-stepping, dodging my strike, and as it does, it immediately counterattacks. I urgently block it, which causes me to lose my strength slightly.

  “You struck too low,” Niko says from the benches.

  “You didn’t account for a dodge. In a real fight, I would’ve taken advantage of your opening and loss of strength by hitting your sword again and hard enough to make you drop it—knocking it out of your hands—then strike you on the neck before you could recover.”

  “Before striking next time, try predicting what your opponent might do. And that high diagonal cut is too slow, almost hesitant. Try to fix that.”

  I nod, stepping back, making some distance, and gripping the hilt of my sword tighter. I control my breathing, trying to focus harder than before.

  I focus fully on the doll’s movement. Remember—it moves like a human. Even muscle movement is humane. I think to myself before closing the distance.

  After closing the distance, I put the sword hilt on my right at the height of my chest before doing a straight stab.

  The doll deflects the strike by hitting the sword with its sword’s flat side, making it pass by its left shoulder. It immediately steps to the right and straight-stabs directly at my neck, which I dodge by side-stepping.

  But it didn’t stop there. The sword followed through with a slash, which I blocked with my sword, as I had enough time to pull my sword back to intercept the slash.

  The doll maintained pressure and adjusted its blade angle before it slid down the flat and struck my hand. Damn it—stupid! My guard was open. I left my hand hanging fully in the open.

  “I don’t need to tell you what went wrong this time,” Niko says. “Your dodge and block were clean. But you forgot to guard your palm and left it exposed.”

  He glances at me and my hand. “We will pause for five minutes before resuming.”

  I sit on the bench beside him, rubbing my stinging knuckles.

  “Although they’re made of rubber,” he adds, “they’re still meant to hurt a little. Otherwise, you wouldn’t learn from the mistake.”

  He pauses for a few seconds.

  “When you reach twelve,” he says, “you’ll begin full combat integration—how to fight using your body with the sword, kicks, punches, elbows, feints, and more.”

  He doesn’t look at me. Keeps his gaze on the doll.

  “I can’t teach you that now. Not because I don’t want to. But because your body won’t hold the form. Your reach is short. Your hips can’t shift fast enough. Your arms tire after a few strikes.”

  A pause. Then, quieter:

  “You’re not behind. You’re exactly where you need to be.”

  He glances at me—just once. “And you’re trying harder than most do at twelve.”

  “But the basics? They’re all you get until your bones and muscles catch up to your mind.”

  I nod, understanding. I already expected this—and accepted it. My body’s just too weak to handle everything yet.

  After five minutes, I return to the center.

  But before we start, an idea hits me.

  I look at Niko, who is still sitting on the bench. “Niko, I know a certain magic ability. It doesn’t attack—it’s more of a passive ability. I want to test how it acts during a fight. Can I use it?”

  He pauses the doll and turns to me before replying. “Go ahead. I don’t mind.”

  I drop into the basic sword stance and channel a thin stream of Veythar—just 0.01 points—forming a lens in my eyes. A few moments later, The Fool’s Line activates.

  Two faint lines appear from the doll’s torso. One of them leads toward empty air. The other stretches toward Niko, who’s still watching from the bench.

  I nod. The doll starts walking toward me, same as before, sword raised in guard.

  This time, it attacks me first—a straight downward cut aimed at the top of my head. I block it.

  Nothing useful. I’ll channel more Veythar to my core. I push more Veythar—0.02 now—and step back to create space between the doll and myself.

  Instantly, all lines vanish.

  Before I could wonder why, a new line flickers downward—aimed at my head.

  0.1 seconds later, the doll’s sword follows that exact path.

  I block again, using just the tip of my blade, then sidestep left and slash toward the doll’s neck.

  As I strike, another line appears—this one from the doll’s sword toward my blade.

  And again, at 0.1 seconds later, its flat slams into my sword, deflecting it clean.

  It’s showing where the doll will strike.

  …Does it show movement too?

  I retreat three steps and reset into guard.

  A line appears on the floor—short, straight. The doll steps exactly where it ends. Then, a second line from its shoulder to my head.

  Its sword lifts to the start of the line—and strikes.

  I extend my blade just enough to block.

  Immediately after, it retracts its sword—and another line appears.

  But this time, the doll moves 0.05 seconds faster. Its blade strikes toward my shoulder before I fully process the line. I barely get my guard up in time.

  It withdraws.

  I counter—grip the sword from my right and slash at the doll’s left side.

  It blocks it.

  Then—before the line even appears—it strikes my shoulder. I’m a step too slow. The hit lands clean.

  “Hmm.” Niko studies me, arms crossed. “It seems to let you react faster than you should be able to. I had to move the doll four times faster just to land a hit.”

  He tilts his head, thoughtful. “But it doesn’t feel like you’re slowing time. More like… you’re seeing the move before it happens.”

  He gestures to the bench. “Take another five-minute break. And don’t use that ability for now.”

  “Train with your bare eyes. You’ll learn more from your mistakes that way.”

  Hey… seriously—how did he figure all that out from just a few exchanges?

  I think to myself as I honestly sit on the bench, surprised.

  Chapter ends.