The village square was unusually silent beneath the midday sun. For the first time in days, the warmth was not felt from the sunlight but from the weight of the words hanging in the air.
Altan's family stood waiting in front of their home, when heavy footsteps echoed from afar. Villagers stepped back. A man known for his thick beard, gray cloak, and the craftsmanship on his sword's hilt walked slowly into the square.
Thalor.
His eyes swept over the crowd before settling on Altan.
> "This boy is rotting here," he said, his voice calm but hard as stone. "I will take him as my apprentice."
Altan's father stayed silent at first. Then he stepped forward, his gaze locking onto Thalor's.
> "So you've finally decided to come back."
Thalor gave a slight nod.
> "I'm not here to resolve our old disagreements. I came for the boy."
> "The boy is my son, Thalor. And our traditions still stand," the father replied. "Do you remember how we used to do it? One step. If he makes you move a step, you take him. If not, the matter ends here."
Thalor smiled faintly.
> "I made that rule. Of course I remember."
Llyn stepped forward, eyes glowing with excitement.
> "I want to try as well. If I succeed… will you take me too?"
Thalor turned to her and gave a slight nod.
> "Everyone gets one chance. But be prepared for the consequences."
A stone circle was drawn in the center of the square. Silence fell over the villagers.
Llyn took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Sparks of energy formed between her palms.
> "Ready!" she shouted.
Thalor didn't move.
Her assault came like a storm. Dust swirled, stones cracked. Every strike was calculated. But Thalor blocked them all using only his left hand — never once drawing his sword.
Ten seconds in. His face remained unreadable.
At twenty seconds, sweat began to drip from Llyn's brow.
At thirty seconds, she slammed the ground with both hands, sending a shockwave through the earth. Thalor's left foot wavered — and slid half a step back.
A soft gasp echoed through the crowd.
> "One step," Thalor said. "Well done, child. But you're not ready yet."
Then his eyes turned to Altan.
> "Your turn."
Altan stepped forward and glanced at his father.
> "This wasn't your idea, was it?" he asked.
His father didn't answer.
Altan inhaled deeply. Though he stared straight ahead, his mind raced. He had carefully observed Llyn's duel. Power alone didn't work. Nor did speed.
Thalor's defense had no gaps — but even the strongest guard could grow tired from repetition.
Altan loosened his body. Then he sprang forward. His first strike was a feint — a wide right slash. Thalor blocked it easily.
At that moment, Altan rolled back and tossed a small stone toward Thalor. As Thalor tilted his head to avoid it, Altan lunged in from below with a hidden dagger.
Thalor met the dagger with his sword.
And yet — his left foot slid back.
One step.
The crowd held its breath. Altan was panting.
Thalor grinned.
> "Calculated, calm, and bold. I like that."
Altan dropped to his knees.
> "I knew it wouldn't be easy."
His father stepped forward and faced Thalor.
> "This is the tradition. He made you move. He can be your apprentice now. But…"
His tone hardened.
> "If you ever harm my son, I won't care about tradition."
Thalor nodded.
> "He's under my responsibility now. And I'll make him more than the boy you know."
Altan closed his eyes. He tried to suppress the swelling feeling in his chest.
For the first time in his life, he had taken the step — but perhaps, for the first time… someone else had taken a step for him.
---
📜 End of Chapter Note:
Thalor's arrival brought not only a mentor, but also the return of old wounds and forgotten debts. For the first time, Altan was judged by the eyes of an adult. He was no longer just a village c
hild — he was now a student. But every apprenticeship comes with a price. And this one… had just begun.