Rumble. Rumble.

  The arid sands rumbled with a great quake. It was low and steady, like a vermin crawling upon the earth, grotesque yet instinctual. Even the daft could understand the implicit danger that would soon erupt from the earth. However, a certain boy stood atop the dunes with a meager stick in hand.

  Was the boy insane? There could be no other explanation for such an occurrence. What he was about to witness was far beyond the ability of ordinary humans. However, the boy himself could also be considered quite the ‘extraordinary existence.’

  “So you noticed me? Good. This makes things easier on me.”

  The curly haired, dark-skinned boy raised his right foot, a mystical blue energy emanating from his sole. He stomped in a manner akin to a sumo wrestler. It was hard, heavy, and would scare off any wildlife in a 3 mile radius - all except for one.

  Having had enough of the persistent irritation, the creature emerged from the depths with a violent growl, sand spewing outward like a water spout. It was so massive that one could equate the eruption to a volcanic explosion.

  “Ha! You really are massive!” The boy laughed boisterously, as though the threat before him was nothing more than a plaything, or perhaps a field test. “Let’s see…perhaps I should take a similar stance?”

  Out of a childish sense of rivalry, the boy raised his wooden stick in a manner similar to a knight raising his blade. He wanted to both emulate and outdo his savior, a man he wholeheartedly considered a rival.

  Roughly a mile away from the ensuing battle, Adra and Abraxas observed the ensuing battle with anticipation.

  “So, what do you think of him so far? Pretty impressive, eh?” Adra asked with a braggadocious tone.

  Abraxas shared not her eager expression. He merely extended his cold gaze towards the boy, his inquisitive gaze sharpening. “His Contours…they pour from his being like a torrential downpour. I have never seen a person with such ample supplies.”

  “Hehe! That’s the talent of my one and only student. I don’t know where the hell he came from, but he really is a once-in-a-lifetime talent!”

  “Hmm…”

  Abraxas, despite his extended praise, seemed oddly hesitant when commenting on Ereth’s improvements, as though there were an invisible ‘flaw’ he was trying to decipher.

  “I am by no means talented. In fact, one could call me the least talented amongst all warriors. It is not my place to comment on such matters. However, if you truly wish for my opinion, then I have but one qualm.”

  “Go ahead. Speak your mind, oh warrior,” Adra said with a half-mocking tone.

  “His refinement…it’s quite atrocious.”

  Returning to the perspective of the battlefield, Ereth, with stick in hand, unleashes a downward slash with all his might. From a human perspective, the slash was the pinnacle of mastery, the single most beautiful strike ever achieved by man. However, when judged by the criteria of gods, then this strike…was most inadequate.

  His Contours burst wildly, attacking everything around him in a cone rather than a straight cut. It was far more similar to a shotgun blast than a cutting slash. The attack only managed to marginally wound the duneworm as it continued its march.

  “Shit. This power really feels impossible to control. It’s like a wild beast!”

  Though controlling the Contours of the Heart was by no means an easy feat, it was not an impossible task for the ordinary person. If one could consider the quantity of Contours for an average adventurer, then it would be something akin to a rivulet. Such a meager amount was easier to control and master.

  Ereth, however, with his overwhelming talent, has a reservoir equivalent to a rushing tsunami.

  This may seem like a valuable advantage at first glance, but there comes a crippling weakness that many talented adventurers must overcome, that being refinement. Battle-tested human techniques quickly break down when magic is introduced to the equation, drastically reducing Ereth’s overall prowess in combat.

  Though his swordsmanship may have reached well above a Rank 2 adventurer, his refinement was that of a Rank 6, the lowest possible rank.

  The duneworm convulsed from the intense pain, writhing, aching, and gnawing. Its annoyance had evolved into hatred. The boy, no, the enemy before the duneworm would be obliterated — that alone the creature knew.

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  It charged towards the lone swordsman, eager to consume its prey whole. Its mass alone kicked up an intense wave of dust.

  “He is too arrogant,” Abraxas commented. “Skipping from ‘formation’ to ‘projection’ is a foolish move. Even the most talented of individuals cannot perform such a feat.”

  “Hmph.” Adra averted her gaze, huffing with a bit of attitude. “Well…he still has room to grow. Don’t go around critiquing my work when it’s clearly in its infancy!”

  “I don’t think it's appropriate to call another human being a ‘piece of work,’ but I suppose you have a point.”

  They stood upon the distant sand dune, observing Ereth as though he were an art piece to be critiqued. He would certainly defeat the beast, that much was certain, but the criteria for a ‘successful’ training session did not necessarily lie in victory, but control.

  ____

  “I suppose I overstepped my limits a bit,” Ereth said with a confident grin. “Somthing like this won’t work, so let's return to the basics.”

  The stick that he had used to unleash his previous strike had exploded, leaving nothing left but white, chalky ashes. Rather than channeling his Contours through an external medium using ‘projection,’ he would return to the basics of ‘formation.’

  He closed his eyes, took in a deep breath, and raised his concentration to its limits. By circulating the energy within his body, Ereth contained his flowing Contours into a thin protective barrier around his body. This process was known as Formation, the basis of all Internal Magecraft techniques.

  With a single bound, Ereth shot towards the duneworm like a flying comet. Defensive maneuvers were useless against such a foe and didn’t suit Ereth’s fighting style. He would land the finish blow before the beast could make its move.

  “Yeah, right here should be good.”

  He landed on the gaping wound of the duneworm, exploiting its obvious weak spot. The skin of the beast was rather tough and thick, so any surface-level attack would only waste time, and jumping inside its mouth would likely dissolve the young man in its stomach acid before he could even land a blow. He instead formed a spear hand, jabbing his arm into its deformed flesh.

  The beast’s wailing resonated like a symphony from hell. If it weren’t for formation, Ereth would have likely blown out both of his eardrums.

  The young knight hacked, slashed, tore, and dissected the beast with an unending flurry of attacks, flesh carved away with every masterful movement. The beast had no choice but to roll over, hoping to crush the boy in one foul swoop. With its sudden rotation, the attacks finally stopped, and for a moment, it thought its counter attack succeeded.

  However…the boy would not be killed in such a pitiful manner.

  “This position is rather convenient for me.”

  “...!”

  The beast felt a strange premonition, a sensation akin to a prophecy. Death was nigh, and it could no longer escape its gruesome fate.

  Ereth had no intention of finishing the fight with ‘Formation’ alone. His refinement was simply too immature for such an outcome. Instead, he would use his own overwhelming talent, and subsequent inadequacy, to his advantage.

  He mustered up every ounce of the Contours in his body, reducing the duneworms head to a purple, bloody mist that rained down to the surface.

  “...”

  Though victory had been claimed, Ereth couldn’t help but feel a brewing sense of disappointment well within his heart.

  “It’s still not enough. I only won through a cheap trick. If I want to become stronger, I need to master this power…”

  He clenched his fist with both frustration and determination. The road before him looked long and arduous, but he had no intentions of giving up. For the first time in his life, he had someone beside his father to look up to and aspire towards.

  Some day, he would surpass the Black Knight Abraxas in strength, and the Fiery Mage Adra in skill. All that stood between him and his goal was a gap in experience.