"If I only need to learn the first four forms, then I have already mastered them," Solomon said while resting the silver longsword on his shoulder. "They are literally just basic directional strikes."

The Paladin let out a deep chuckle from behind his white visor. He gestured toward the empty canvas with his gauntlet and invited the boy to demonstrate.

Solomon stepped forward to execute the sequence immediately. He swung the silver blade down in a vertical chop, followed it with a horizontal sweep, chained a diagonal slash, and finished with a forward thrust. He dropped his stance and looked back at the towering warrior. "Can I go back to the labyrinth now?"

The Paladin stared at him in absolute silence for a long moment. He shook his armored head in obvious disappointment. "How can a warrior actually be so terrible at wielding a blade?"

Solomon widened his eyes and pointed his weapon at the knight. "What are you talking about? I copied your exact movements."

The ancient warrior stepped forward and retrieved his executioner’s sword from the invisible floor. He repeated the first four forms in a rapid sequence. The sheer kinetic force behind his strikes created localized vacuums in the void, pulling the surrounding space inward before violently snapping it back out.

"Your attempt was an insult to the blade itself," the Paladin said, transforming into a strict instructor instantly. "You must start swinging your weapon right now and actually train."

The Paladin planted his steel boots firmly on the unseen ground and raised his greatsword high above his helmet to break down the first form. He explained the exact millimeter placement of the fingers on the hilt, emphasizing how the grip dictated the entire flow of energy.

"The kinetic energy must travel upward from your calves, transfer through your hips, and multiply across your shoulders before ever reaching the blade," the Paladin commanded, adjusting his own posture to show the mechanics. "The angle of your wrists has to align perfectly with your spine to generate maximum torque."

’He wants me to understand a physics equation before I even swing,’ Solomon thought, wiping sweat from his face. ’And I agree with that, but I think everyone executes attacks differently. Although I have never learned actual sword arts, so I won’t say it out loud.’

A simple vertical strike contained an entire library of anatomical and physical science. Solomon gritted his teeth and mimicked the stance, raising the silver longsword to bring it down with all his might.

The resulting strike felt weak and completely unbalanced, causing his boots to slip across the blank floor.

"Your footing is entirely wrong," the Paladin noted, stepping closer to adjust Solomon’s shoulders with a firm shove. "It looks like you will be swinging that sword for a very long time."

Solomon reset his stance and swung again. The blade whistled through the empty space while completely missing the trajectory the ancient knight demanded. He reset his footing and struck downward a third time, repeating the vertical chop endlessly until his arms burned.

Three weeks bled into the void. Solomon swung the silver sword thousands of times every single day, yet he still could not grasp the perfect alignment required for the first form. He forced his bleeding hands to grip the hilt tighter and pushed through the agonizing cramps tearing across his back.

Four months passed without a single successful strike. Solomon collapsed onto the unseen floor with his muscles screaming in agony. This mental domain belonged entirely to the ancient knight, so Solomon experienced extreme hunger and thirst without ever actually perishing from the deprivation.

The Paladin allowed him to take short breaks when his body completely failed him. He would swipe his gauntlet across the void and literally paint a plate of roasted meat or a wooden cup of water into existence.

"Eat quickly," the Paladin ordered, dropping a freshly painted loaf of bread near Solomon’s boots. "Your form is still lacking intent. You are merely moving your arms."

"I am moving everything exactly how you showed me," Solomon argued between bites, his throat completely parched.

The grueling training resumed immediately after every meal. Solomon pushed his ruined body back to its feet and raised the silver longsword. He swung the weapon downward, corrected his grip, adjusted his spine, and struck again.

Two hundred days faded into the endless canvas. Solomon swung the blade while his hands blistered and healed in a continuous cycle of physical torture.

"Again," the Paladin’s voice echoed through the emptiness.

Five hundred days vanished. Solomon swung the blade again, his mind stripping away every distracting thought until only the silver steel remained.

Eight hundred and seventy-six days merged into a continuous loop. He swung the blade again and again, refining his muscles to remember the exact angles and physics the Paladin demanded.

"Focus your intent," the Paladin commanded, watching the boy execute his ten thousandth swing of the day.

Finally, on the one thousand one hundred and seventy-second day, Solomon planted his boots firmly on the invisible ground. He twisted his hips, aligned his spine perfectly with his wrists, and brought the silver longsword crashing down. The blade sliced through the white void with a terrifying shriek, sending a visible shockwave of kinetic energy ripping across the canvas.

He had finally mastered the first form.

Solomon lowered the silver longsword and let out a long exhale. He wiped the dripping sweat from his chin with the back of his hand and looked at his calloused palms.

The Paladin gave a single nod of approval. He immediately raised his own massive executioner’s sword to chest level. The ancient knight twisted his waist and unleashed a flawless horizontal sweep. A visible ring of kinetic force expanded outward and warped the white canvas for a fraction of a second.

"The second form requires a completely different physical foundation," the Paladin instructed while returning to his neutral stance. "The first strike utilized gravity and downward momentum to generate power. A horizontal sweep relies entirely on centripetal force and pure core rotation. Your boots must anchor you to the earth while your hips snap forward like a loaded spring."

Solomon raised his weapon to chest height. He twisted his torso and swung the blade across the empty space. The silver steel dipped slightly near the end of the arc. Consequently, the kinetic energy fizzled out completely before leaving the metal.

The Paladin stepped forward and pointed at the boy’s posture. "Your shoulders dropped. The blade must remain perfectly parallel to the ground from the beginning of the swing to the very end. Any deviation bleeds the power into nothingness."

Solomon gritted his teeth and reset his stance. He anchored his boots against the invisible floor and rotated his hips. The blade whistled through the white void. However, the trajectory wavered again near the end of the motion.

He swung a third time. He swung a hundredth time. The grueling cycle of endless repetition restarted without any mercy.

Months dissolved into the blank horizon. Solomon swung the silver longsword until his obliques cramped violently. He eventually collapsed onto the unseen ground while gasping for breath. His entire torso throbbed from the constant rotational strain.

The Paladin swiped a gauntlet across the emptiness to manifest a wooden bowl of stew. "Eat. You are overcompensating with your dominant arm. Both hands must pull and push the hilt with equal force to maintain the horizontal plane."

Solomon accepted the bowl with trembling fingers. ’This guy genuinely expects absolute perfection on every single millimeter of movement,’ he thought while chewing the painted food. ’A microscopic error ruins the entire strike. I don’t even know how long it has been since there is no day and night here. Maybe a few months, I guess.’

He finished the meal and pushed himself back to his feet. He widened his stance slightly and gripped the hilt. He swung the blade across the void.

Two hundred days evaporated into the endless training. Solomon’s blisters hardened into thick layers of tough skin. He swung the weapon horizontally.

Four hundred days faded away. He adjusted his core rotation to generate maximum torque without losing his balance. He swung the blade again.

Seven hundred days merged into the routine. Solomon stripped away every unnecessary movement from his body to achieve absolute efficiency.

On the one thousand eight hundred and seventy-second day of his confinement, Solomon planted his feet firmly on the invisible ground. He locked his shoulders and snapped his hips forward with explosive speed. Both hands pulled the silver hilt in perfect unison.

The blade sliced through the white expanse on a flawless horizontal plane. A sharp shriek echoed across the void while a devastating ring of kinetic energy erupted outward.

Solomon dropped his arms to his sides and stared at the rippling distortion fading into the white canvas. He had finally conquered the second form.

The Paladin gave a short nod and immediately stepped forward. He raised his massive executioner’s sword over his right shoulder, shifting his weight to his back foot before unleashing a rapid flurry of diagonal strikes. It carved an intricate web of flashing light across the white canvas.

"The third form demands perfect harmony between your upper and lower body," the Paladin instructed, returning his weapon to a neutral guard. "A diagonal strike forces you to attack completely off-center. You must transfer your kinetic energy from your rear heel directly across your torso to the opposite shoulder while swinging. Any imbalance will instantly break your footing."

Solomon wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead and raised the silver longsword. He planted his back foot, twisted his torso, and swung the weapon at a sharp downward angle. The sudden shift in momentum pulled him entirely off balance.

His boots slipped across the invisible floor, sending him tumbling onto his side.

The ancient warrior pointed his gauntlet at the boy’s legs. "Your center of gravity shifted too early. Your blade must lead the transition."

Solomon pushed himself off the unseen ground and gritted his teeth. ’This guy turns every single swing into a physics exam,’ he thought while brushing imaginary dust from his bare knees.

He gripped the silver hilt and reset his stance. He swung the blade again. The trajectory wavered as his hips failed to match his arm speed.

He swung a third time. The grueling cycle of repetition restarted without any hesitation.

Fifty days faded into the white void. Solomon swung the sword diagonally, repeatedly adjusting his weight transfer to keep his boots anchored.

One hundred days vanished. He forced his legs to hold perfectly still while his upper body twisted at extreme angles. The Paladin painted wooden cups of water into existence whenever the boy collapsed, forcing him to hydrate before resuming the endless routine.

Three hundred days merged into the blank horizon. His muscles finally memorized the exact path the kinetic energy needed to travel across his torso.

On the two thousand one hundred and seventy-sixth day of his total confinement, Solomon dug his rear heel into the unseen canvas. He transferred his weight seamlessly across his core and unleashed a blinding flurry of diagonal slashes.

The silver longsword traced a flawless, deadly web through the empty space. A sharp crack echoed through the void as the kinetic force ripped outward in perfect unison.

Solomon lowered the blade and let out a long breath. He had conquered the third form in exactly three hundred and four days.

And now... only the fourth form remained.

❖ ❖ ❖

N/N- Hey guys, this Chapter is two thousand words long, which is equivalent to two Chapters. The reason I published it as one is obvious. I don’t want to take too many Chapters in his training.

I skipped what I could and kept what was important. If I had skipped everything, his achievement and hard work wouldn’t have felt so personal. Think of it as a short training arc.

Let me know what you guys think. I will carry it forward in the future and learn from the feedback. Thank you for reading.