The late autumn sun draped the courtyard with a warm light. Leaves fell from the tree at the slightest touch of the soft breeze, ruffling quietly as the wind shuffled them across the courtyard grounds. The nipping chill in the air announced the coming of winter. It wouldn’t be long until the first flakes of snow sprinkled down onto the calm sanctuary.

  Sebastian sat by the fireplace, book in hand. He didn’t actually need the fire to keep warm, but he enjoyed the flickering light and the satisfying crackling. With his current cultivation, neither the cold of darkest winter or the heat of a roaring fire could penetrate his skin. And yet the subtle sting of the crisp breeze and the caress of the warmth from the fire soothed him as he read.

  The book he was reading was the third and last in a set of three volumes. They were far, far longer than they needed to be. Sebastian spent weeks reading each one of them but they were filled with so much flowery nonsense that it took a great deal of willpower and concentration not to throw them in the fire. Still, once in a while, they did get into some actually useful aspects of swordsmanship. Nuggets of true wisdom hidden in a haystack of the most boring and meaningless verbose ramblings that Sebastian had ever seen.

  If the books were to be believed, and Sebastian did decide that their authenticity was likely genuine, then the author was a decorated and highly experienced swordsman who had been commissioned to write a series of books on his thoughts and conclusions regarding the art of the sword.

  The author explained, not openly but in his own words such that Sebastian could piece it together through subtext, that the commission was paid by the word.

  It seemed that even swordsmen with levels in the sixties or possibly even seventies were subject to greed, given just how many words he had managed to squeeze out of his story. That or it was pure pettiness. Regardless, Sebastian had to respect the hustle, however painful it was to read.

  Piecing together those rare nuggets of wisdom within the three volumes into actual coherent advice that he could use to elevate his own swordsmanship to the next level was difficult but not impossible.

  He held the book in his right hand and reached out with his left to take a sip of his tea. Halfway through, he halted and sighed. It had been months and yet he subconsciously made the same mistake over and over.

  Although his arm had begun to heal in the past few months, he had only regenerated a stub from his shoulder. For the first month and a half, he remained painfully aware that his arm was gone. As the shoulder fully healed and a stump began to regrow, which he could actually move, his mind created a phantom limb that tricked him several times a day. The essence that moved through his spirit arm didn’t help the subconscious confusion either.

  The realization broke his immersion so he snapped the book shut and put it aside, grabbed the cup of tea, and leaned back to take in the calm of his current circumstance.

  This was everything he had ever wanted in life, a comfort beyond anything he achieved on earth. At least, it was everything he ever wanted, back then. Back on earth, where comfort was the best life had to offer. Here, in this world, there was more to be had. More to be done. He enjoyed these comforts—because there was no reason to deny them—but he couldn’t let them distract him.

  He stood up and stepped over to the small training platform made of stone plates, raised slightly above the rest of the ground. By the side of the platform stood a rack with various weapons. He picked up the sword he had taken as his new weapon. He had been training with it for the past few months. It resembled his old one, that broke against the Overlord. A one handed sword, its blade was fairly long, straight, and double-edged but only about an inch wide. The small crossguard was more decorative than the one on his old sword. The same applied to the pommel. Overall, the old sword was plain and simple whereas this one was far more decorated and detailed.

  His feet were bare, a habit he had taken to during his time training at the house. He used the cold stone plate to ground his thoughts when he trained. This world didn’t have true sweatpants but he had found some thin, soft, black pants that felt close enough and when combined with a simple white t-shirt, he felt right at home.

  Sebastian took a deep breath before he began. His feet stood shoulder-width apart, with his left foot slightly in front for stability. Carefully and precisely, he executed the movements of his [Intergalactic Sword Art]. He primarily focused on the footwork.

  For the past month, he had been trying to apply some of the concepts of the [Fleeting Cloud Step] into his Sword Art.

  There was still a long way to go but when he pushed with his back foot to slide his left foot forward there was a smoothness to his movements.

  He shifted his weight to his front leg and stepped to the side.

  He moved forward and back, side to side. He turned and shifted, sliding across the stone plates as if ice-skating. The leaves and the dust on the platform trembled slightly when his feet moved past them. Just a month ago, when he began his efforts, the air pressure from his movements would stir them around the platform. Now, his presence barely affected them.

  As he settled into his footwork, he gradually added attacks to his movements. A vertical slash when he stepped forward, a horizontal slash when he side-stepped, and a diagonal slash when he shifted his weight.

  His mind conjured the image of Silas in front of him.

  The phantom responded to Sebastian’s actions just like the real Silas had during their sparring. His attacks were dodged or blocked. In the gaps between attacks, the phantom launched ruthless counter-attacks that forced Sebastian to defend himself. Just like when he sparred with the real Silas, he found himself pushed back. His attempts to break through were thwarted, time and time again.

  To smoothly bridge the gaps between defense and offense was difficult, and the phantom made use of the gap between the two more effectively than Sebastian could.

  In response, he reached inward. He remembered the feeling of bringing out a powerful sword intent when he sliced the Overlord’s appendage after it had ripped his arm off. Desperation had a tendency to bring out more of him than he could consciously conjure, but he didn’t give up. He grabbed hold of a thin strand of intent and pulled it to the surface.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Woosh

  His sword cleaved the phantom in two.

  Intergalactic Sword Art

  Stage: Foundation proficiency increased

  With that final slash, Sebastian’s proficiency with his first stage increased to Peak.

  He continued his training without letting the small breakthrough distract him. The difference between High proficiency and Peak was immense. Intentionally bringing such a powerful intent into his swordsmanship gave rise to an epiphany. Like a puzzle piece which when clicked into place allowed him to see a greater image.

  The [System] also helped correct his movements, smoothing over slight mistakes. Perfecting his swordsmanship.

  The phantom’s counter-attacks no longer caused him any grief. Not only could he keep up, he could use his intent to intensify every aspect of his swordsmanship.

  Although he had wielded his intent before, it was always during times of desperation. When his life was in danger. Now he could bring out his intent as he moved normally.

  Every swing sliced through the air with purpose, and the world listened.

  If he intended to cut something, reality itself would accept it as the natural order of events.

  Out of curiosity and excitement, Sebastian quickly fetched a simple spear. It was more of a training tool than a true weapon and was made entirely of metal. He moved outside of the training platform and stuck the spear into the ground. After a deep breath, he imbued his intent into his sword and swung.

  Whing - Thud

  The spear’s metal shaft yielded with a surprising ease. His sword cut through it like butter.

  Of course, that only worked because the spear wasn’t wielded by a warrior with an intent of their own, but he still felt a sense of pride and wonder well up from within. The feeling of growing stronger was every bit as intoxicating now as it was when he first arrived in this world.

  Along with his training Sebastian also kept a strict routine of cultivating every day. The fact that he rarely needed to sleep helped him find plenty of hours for both his cultivation and training with his Techniques and his Sword Art.

  He continued with this routine for months. Every day he felt it more clearly than the day before. His fears were correct. He wouldn’t be able to make the leap to a second stage on his own, he needed some help.

  Where to find that help was the next question.

  He had spent some time during his first month to familiarize himself with the town, but he still wasn’t an expert. He spent practically all of his time at the house, after all. He had learned, however, that there were a few sword schools in town, and Sebastian figured that it was as good a place as any to try to elevate his swordsmanship to the next level, even if he was a bit older than their usual students.

  Celder wasn’t a big town in the grand scheme of things, it was smaller than Blackoak, but it still bigger than one might expect. Certainly bigger than the other small towns he saw during the train ride to Luxendorf. The main street was lined with shops and restaurants with people making use of the last chances of warmth before the winter to sit outside as they enjoyed some afternoon tea and snacks.

  It was a bright town, both in terms of colors of the buildings and the dispositions of the people. The people of Celder were kind and helpful.

  Sebastian asked for directions to the sword school that best fit his needs and found it without issue.

  He made his way down the streets of Celder by foot and reached the sword school after an hour and a half. It was located on the outskirts of town. The school wasn’t the only building in the area but there was a good distance to the closest house. The school could pass for two ordinary homes. The two houses were connected, though, with one clearly newer than the other.

  If not for the sign hanging in front of the main building saying, {Violet Dawn Sword School}, Sebastian might not even have recognized that it was a school.

  He ambled up the front porch steps and knocked on the door. There was no answer so he tried again. This time, someone called out from inside, “Come on in, the door’s open!”

  Sebastian opened the door and was met with a simple hallway. Even the inside could pass for an ordinary home.

  “Come through, I’m in the back,” a man called out from the backyard, so Sebastian stepped over the clutter on the floor. Various dummies of wood and straw lay about, in different states of disrepair.

  The back door led to a porch overlooking a large, fenced-in backyard. The building on the right hand side was longer, extending out to form an L-shape that together with the simple picket fence framed the backyard. Over by the other building was a man stacking some wooden swords onto a rack.

  He was a couple inches shorter than Sebastian. Short hair, clean shaven, lean but muscular. His white shirt was similar to Sebastian’s except his sleeves were puffier, and there were some buttons down the front of his shirt, just three by the collar though. Both his shirt and his brown trousers were noticeably more focused on comfort than appearance, a priority Sebastian certainly agreed with.

  “What brings you to my humble school, are you looking to enroll your kids?” the man asked when he looked up to greet his visitor.

  “No, I’m more so here for myself, actually,” Sebastian replied while scratching his neck.

  It took the man by surprise, clearly it wasn’t a question he got often. “Oh, well it’s never too late to get some training in. I’m not sure I’m really looking to enroll adults though.”

  Sebastian chuckled. “It’s like this. I’ve hit something of a bottleneck in my swordsmanship lately and there’s only so much I can do on my own. I could really use some help. Either by getting some advice from someone more experience than myself and/or by finding someone skilled to spar with. I figured that someone who runs his own school might be a good fit for both.”

  The man placed the last of the wooden swords on the rack and stood to face Sebastian. He clicked his tongue. “What level are we talking?”

  “I’m currently level 43. As far as my swordsmanship goes, I’m honestly not sure how I would rank or judge it, but I feel like I’ve gotten pretty decent recently. Think you can help?”

  Hearing Sebastian’s level made the man take the inquiry more seriously. He made a good effort to consider the situation before answering.

  “I’m level 45 myself, so that’s a decent match up.” He clicked his tongue again. “Can’t lie, it’s tempting. I’ve been teaching kids and teens here for the last decade, and I have been feeling a little rusty lately. Could be good to get some training in myself. Especially now, with the ceasefire in the East. Since the various mercenary companies are bound to return and start recruiting again, I’m probably gonna be seeing more students coming in and need to keep sharp. So it would be a good time to get that rust off.”

  “Wait, ceasefire?”

  “Oh, you haven’t heard?” he said, surprised. “With that Overlord attack on Luxendorf a while back, Lumeria called a ceasefire. They had to send several of their generals and the Duke of Luzzera to fight it off, so they simply didn’t have the manpower left to continue their campaign.”

  Sebastian felt a lump in his throat from the news.

  That Overlord must have veered north and attacked the city after it snacked on my arm and killed Dolan. He took a deep breath to process. “I didn’t know, I’ve been staying in, focusing on my training recently.”

  “That’s some dedication, huh?” He nodded approvingly. “Well, I haven’t actually entertained a deal like this before, but I guess we could do some spars every now and then, for a fee of course.”

  Sebastian valued the training more than he did whatever fee he’d have to pay. He smiled and said, “Fantastic! I’m Baz, by the way.” Sebastian extended his hand.

  The instructor accepted the handshake and replied, “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, I’m Oren.”

  “Well, Oren, are you up for a spar right now?”

  Patreon to stay 10 chapters ahead of Royal Road.

  Patreon. It's still a first draft thus far (though definitely in readable shape) and will be going through some changes soon, but I really like it so far. The plan is to begin release after Akashic Fate is complete here on Royal road.

  Patreon.