Across from Zeta stood Harren Darkstone, the father of his predecessor—and also his now.
He had bragged more than once about being a former Tier 7 swordsman—and that he retired by choice, not by force... or so he claimed.
He was holding a wooden sword in his right hand, his eyes narrowing at Zeta. He radiated excitement, thrilled to pass down the skills he had honed during his time as an adventurer and from his grandfather.
Without wasting any time, he took a wide stance, bowing slightly. Then, he smoothly drew back, and in that moment, a blue aura-like glow began to seep from his body, giving him an ethereal shimmer—before he twisted his hips and launched a fast, descending arc that sliced the large rock in front of him—all in one strike.
Damn... Now this is fantasy!! Ain't no one back on Earth slicing down that huge-ass boulder in one strike, Zeta thought, sweat dripping down his cheeks—not from fear, but from uncontrollable excitement at the idea of becoming that strong.
[Ding! Host has perfectly copied the skill "The Falling Crescent."]
And hearing that his ability had copied the skill without a problem, his excitement soared.
"Got it?" Harren asked, looking back at his son with a proud smile.
If this were an animation, his nose would've grown three to five inches—that's how proud he looked. Every father wanted to look cool in front of their kid.
"Well..." Zeta hesitated a bit.
"Ah, don't worry if you didn't get it... I took almost three months to learn this skill, haha." Harren let out a hearty laugh.
Damn, I wonder what expression he'll make if I tell him the skill he took three months to learn—I learned in one look, Zeta thought, a grin threatening to break out.
"Well then, let's start our first lesson. Since you've never held a sword before, let's go back to the basics." Harren said as he showed him the standard swordsman stance.
It was the foundation—feet shoulder-width apart, sword held at waist level, eyes forward, chin tucked slightly.
...
"Alright, I'll show you some basic moves you can perform from that stance," Harren said before launching into horizontal and diagonal strikes—all flowing with practical footwork.
He then proceeded to call out each move, explaining their purpose, technique, timing, and more.
And Zeta absorbed it all, like a sponge. His absurd talent, even one the system couldn't measure, kicked in.
He didn't even need to rely on Mimic. He could replicate the movements with raw talent, frame by frame, with ease.
However, there was one noticeable difference between Harren and Zeta—their speed and strength.
No matter how perfect his form was, without power and speed, it was practically useless—all bark and no bite.
Perfect technique meant jackshit if he lacked the strength and force behind it. It would be all flash and no function. He'd be dead before he could even take down a goblin.
"Ohhh! As expected of my son! You're learning so fast, it's almost hard to believe it's your first time touching a sword!" Harren praised him, a stupidly cheeky smile tugging at his lips.
Luna, who had been watching the training session, furrowed her brows. Her arms were folded, as usual. She hadn't come to teach, she just came to observe—curious about Zeta after seeing that glitchy magic pathway.
She hadn't told anyone about what she witnessed yesterday—too afraid people would call her crazy. Because... it was just too hard to believe. Nobody had ever shown anything like that before.
Seems like that glitchy magic pathway suggests that Zeta possesses a level of talent that far exceeds what a normal pathway can measure.
She had come to that conclusion after her lesson with him, when he had literally learned a wind-element magic spell within half an hour. He had mimicked her exact movements and rhythm on his second try.
And now, seeing him learn swordsmanship with ease, as if he'd done it many times before, just confirmed it.
...
As Harren continued watching his son flawlessly perform everything he demonstrated, his brows furrowed, and a frown broke out on his face.
"Wait... you sure you've never done this before?" Harren asked, confused at how someone with zero knowledge of swordsmanship could execute all those moves—in perfect form, no less.
"Dad, you know I've never even been outside the house much... and I spend most of my time indoors with Mom," Zeta replied with a completely straight face.
Haha... I wonder how he feels—looking like a stupid bitch in front of his own son, Zeta laughed mentally, his mouth twitching slightly.
He's right... damn, how stupid can I be... ugh, Harren thought, realizing what he'd just said, before coughing awkwardly.
"Ppf—" Luna, who had been watching from the sidelines, almost burst out laughing.
"Ahem!" Harren, hearing her trying to stifle her laugh, turned even more embarrassed.
"Alright, let's move on."
"I'll show you my signature move then—" Harren quickly changed the subject, wanting to avoid the conversation entirely.
He walked to his left, where a wooden training dummy stood. It was a life-sized replica of a human body.
With everything in place, he positioned himself a bit away from the dummy.
"My father used to say... one clean cross can end three fights. So don't blink, son... or you'll miss it all." Harren said, his tone serious for once, nothing like his usual dumb expressions.
He held his sword tightly in his right hand and exhaled slowly.
In a flash, his left foot slid forward, his boots grinding softly on the grassy surface. His stance widened, low and fluid.
Then, a faint blue aura shimmered around his sword.
And then he moved.
The first slash came downward—fast, piercing, and sharp. However, it wasn't meant to hit.
Mid-strike, he twisted his torso, causing the blade to just barely brush past the dummy's shoulder, baiting a non-existent guard.
In that same motion, his back leg pivoted.
Without pause, the second strike burst outward—a horizontal slash that ripped through the air with a thunderclap.
"Huh? But nothing happened?" Luna asked, puzzled, watching from nearby.
As a magician, anything related to swordsmanship was still unfamiliar territory for her.
But just a second later—
CRASH-SHUNK!
The dummy's entire torso split clean in two.
A perfect, cross-shaped gash was carved deep into its wooden chest, making Luna's eyes go wide.