The Paladin did not allow a single moment for celebration. He immediately shifted his grip on the executioner’s sword, bringing the hilt close to his chestplate. Stepping deeply into a forward lunge, the ancient knight thrust the massive blade straight into the empty space.

The surrounding air compressed at the very tip of the weapon before detonating in a deafening sonic boom.

"The fourth form discards the cutting edge entirely to focus on penetration," the Paladin instructed, easily retracting his weapon. "You are no longer swinging a blade through a wide arc. You must compress your entire body weight and forward momentum into a single microscopic point at the tip of your sword. If your wrist bends by even a fraction of a millimeter during the extension, the kinetic feedback will instantly shatter your arm."

Solomon swallowed hard and raised his silver longsword to his chest. ’So now I have to turn myself into a human bullet,’ he thought while adjusting his footing. ’It looks easy, but I know it isn’t.’

He pushed off his rear boot and lunged forward, thrusting the weapon straight ahead. The sudden burst of momentum threw his center of gravity completely off. His wrist buckled slightly at full extension.

"Your elbow flared outward," the Paladin pointed out calmly. "The energy escaped through your joints before it ever reached the sword. Keep your arm completely tucked until the final moment of release."

Solomon scrambled back up and brushed off his knees. He reset his stance, pulled the hilt close to his ribs, and launched himself forward again. The blade pierced the air, but the resulting force felt hollow and weak.

He lunged a third time, knowing exactly what to expect. The long cycle of repetition started all over again.

One hundred days faded into the blinding white canvas. Solomon thrust the silver sword forward repeatedly until his knuckles bruised and his elbow joints burned. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

He constantly struggled to channel the explosive kinetic energy directly through the center of the blade without losing control of his wrist.

The Paladin regularly painted roasted vegetables and fresh water into existence to keep the boy functioning.

Solomon would eat the imaginary food in complete silence, resting for only a few minutes before returning to the endless lunging drills.

Three hundred days evaporated into the void. He finally learned to keep his elbow tucked tightly against his ribs, ensuring the kinetic force traveled in a perfectly straight line from his back heel straight through his shoulder. He anchored his footing and thrust the weapon again.

Five hundred days merged into the blank horizon. His body memorized the exact muscle tension required to keep the blade perfectly steady during the explosive forward motion. He stripped away all hesitation from his mind, focusing entirely on the singular point of impact.

On his five hundred and sixty-seventh day of practicing the fourth form, Solomon lowered his stance and anchored his rear foot against the unseen ground. He coiled his muscles tight, aligned his wrist perfectly with his forearm, and exploded forward. The silver longsword shot through the empty space like a fired projectile.

All of his kinetic energy condensed seamlessly into the very tip of the blade, triggering a violent crack that echoed across the endless white expanse.

Solomon smoothly retracted his weapon and exhaled slowly. He had successfully mastered the fourth form.

The Paladin lowered his sword and gave a single nod. "You have fully mastered the first four forms."

Solomon dropped the tip of his silver blade to the unseen floor and let out a long breath of relief. "Great. Now that I am finally done with the training, you need to let me out of here just as you promised."

The Paladin shook his head. "Before you leave, I will teach you the fifth, sixth, and seventh forms."

Solomon tightened his grip on the hilt and frowned. "That is not what we agreed upon at all."

"I told you to master the first four forms, and you have accomplished exactly that," the Paladin replied calmly, resting his weapon against his shoulder. "You merely have to learn the rest of the sequence. Since you cannot use magic and have not awakened your mana core, you obviously cannot master these advanced techniques today. But you must still understand how they work."

’He wants me to memorize the theory without taking the practical exam,’ Solomon thought, rolling his shoulders to ease the lingering tension in his back.

"Once you awaken your magic in the future, you will need this foundational knowledge to actually use these strikes," the Paladin continued, stepping backward into the open expanse. "You must comprehend them to complete the Imperial Sword Arts. Only then will you be able to develop your unique eighth form and ultimately weave your own sword dance."

Solomon sighed, leaning his weight against his longsword. "Fine. Show me the magic."

"I will repeat the fifth, sixth, and seventh forms again and again until you have comprehended them fully," the Paladin said.

He raised his blade high above his head and began the demonstration. Golden light erupted from his steel as he unleashed the fifth form, creating a sweeping crescent of energy that scorched the surrounding void.

He fluidly transitioned into the sixth form by plunging his weapon into the floor, shattering the invisible ground with a localized tremor.

Finally, he gathered mana into his gauntlets for the seventh form and leaped upward, bringing down a devastating shower of radiant swords.

The Paladin landed smoothly, reset his stance, and immediately performed the entire sequence a second time. Then he did it a third time, and a fourth.

Solomon sat cross-legged on the floor and watched the blinding explosions over and over again. As the hours stretched on, the overwhelming visual spectacle of the magic began to peel away from his perception.

He stopped looking at the golden fire and focused entirely on the Paladin’s body mechanics.

He noticed the underlying patterns almost immediately. The fifth form was simply the horizontal sweep of the second form, but the kinetic energy was replaced with outward-flowing mana.

The sixth form mirrored the downward momentum of the first form, driving raw power directly into the earth instead of slicing through the air.

The seventh form perfectly combined the rotational balance of the third form with the explosive release of the fourth.

Beneath all the terrifying magic and roaring power, the advanced arts shared the exact same foundational simplicity as the basic physical strikes he had just spent years bleeding over.

Solomon watched the golden mana flow through the Paladin’s limbs, finally understanding how the entire sequence connected into one continuous and perfect system.

Two hundred and thirty-four days of pure observation passed before Solomon fully comprehended the underlying mechanics of the final three forms.

He knew he would not be able to execute the magic flawlessly the exact moment he awakened a mana core, as the techniques would still require intense physical practice. However, the exact blueprints were finally etched completely into his mind.

Solomon lowered his longsword and wiped his forehead. "I understand the theory now. Can I go back?"

"Not yet," the Paladin replied, planting his boots firmly on the unseen floor. "The entire reason I pulled your consciousness into this domain was to ensure you could actually kill me. Merely learning the forms will not guarantee your victory."

The Paladin raised his executioner’s sword and pointed the tip directly at Solomon’s chest. "From this moment onward, we will spar continuously. We will duel until I am absolutely confident that you possess the skill to defeat me outside this void."

Solomon stared at the blade without saying a word.

"You do not need to hold anything back," the Paladin added, assuming the exhausted boy was simply too stunned to speak. "Go completely all out. No matter how severely you are injured in this mental space, you cannot perish. I can mend your flesh and fix your broken bones in a fraction of a second."

The Paladin braced his stance, fully anticipating a violent tantrum. Any sane person who had just spent years performing grueling physical labor in an empty room would naturally snap at the prospect of an endless, one-sided deathmatch.

Instead, a low chuckle escaped Solomon’s lips.

He rolled his shoulders until the joints popped loudly, gripped the hilt of his weapon with both hands, and settled into a perfectly balanced guard.

A wild, adrenaline-fueled grin slowly stretched across his face, exposing his teeth and completely transforming his exhausted demeanor. His eyes widened with raw excitement.

Solomon was a pure battle maniac at his core, and as long as a strong opponent stood in front of him, he would happily fight until the very last drop of blood left his body.

The sheer intensity radiating from the boy’s twisted smile actually caused the Paladin to subconsciously take a half-step back.

’He is actually looking forward to the slaughter,’ the Paladin realized, tightening his grip on his own weapon to mask his sudden hesitation.

"Don’t hold back either," Solomon whispered, his voice trembling with anticipation.

Solomon pushed off the invisible ground and launched himself forward. He seamlessly chained the first form into a brutal downward strike, forcing the Paladin to raise his guard immediately as their blades crashed together.

The endless spar officially began.