A few days had passed since the rather… unexpected conclusion to Riley's practical test and training with Beon.
The sun hung lazily above the snow-covered mountains, casting a soft light across the frozen landscape.
Hoo…
A faint puff of steam escaped Riley's lips as he exhaled into the cold air.
His breath came slow and steady, no longer clouded by fatigue—just calm.
With both hands firmly on the hilt, he brought his sword down in one smooth motion.
Foosh—!
The blade cut through the air like a whisper, carving a clean arc through the silence.
Though there was no mana, no skill technique added to it, the effect was still undeniable.
A sharp gust of wind followed the swing, slicing through the snowy ground ahead of him.
A shallow line was etched neatly into the earth, as if a blade had sliced through silk—precise, controlled, and clean.
It was his thousandth slash of the day.
The final piece of his training quota.
