Chương 24: Shota and Kenji

Shota Kotetsu is qualified to meet his mentor. Commencing teleportation to Mentor 'Kenji Kotetsu'… Shota's world went black. A beat later, his shoes settled firmly against wooden floorboards with barely a stumble. The planks creaked beneath his weight, and the sharp clack of wooden swords striking one another immediately filled his ears. He had arrived in one of the training rooms of The Forge—one of the most prominent guilds in all of Astoria.

Its influence stretched across the world, backed by the largest army of any guild and some of the finest blacksmiths and craftsmen alive. A maroon banner hung along one wall, bearing an insignia: a longsword pointed downward. Barrels occupied each corner of the room, packed with an assortment of wooden training weapons—longswords, shortswords, broadswords, halberds, glaives, polearms, katanas—you name it, The Forge had it.

What truly separated the room from an ordinary training facility was the humanoid robot fighting in the center of the dojo. Its metallic frame roughly resembled a person, though an LED display served as its face. Streams of data flickered across the screen in real time, tracking power output, accuracy, reaction speed, and movement efficiency as it exchanged blows with its opponent. Shota's father. Kenji Kotetsu—the Guild Master of The Forge. Kenji appeared middle-aged, his dark hair pulled into a topknot.

Years of combat had left his features weathered, with several scars cutting across his face—a harsh contrast to Shota's smoother, almost pretty appearance. He wore a loose navy robe that flared around his legs whenever he moved, and both he and the training machine were engaged in combat, both wielding wooden longswords. Not wanting to interrupt, Shota quietly moved to the edge of the room and watched. His gaze sharpened as he studied every movement his father made.

Wood struck wood in rapid succession, and neither fighter gave an inch. Kenji brought his sword down in an overhead strike. The robot caught it with a block, redirected the blade into a parry, then snapped back with a counterattack. Kenji deflected it and immediately answered with another strike. Every exchange flowed into the next—attack, defense, counter, recovery—until neither side seemed capable of gaining a decisive advantage. The numbers across the robot's face continuously updated in realtime.

Power: 100% Accuracy: 100% Reaction: 100% Movement: 100% The readings never dropped. Minutes passed beneath the relentless crack of wooden blades, then Kenji finally broke the stalemate. He knocked the robot's sword off-line with a sudden parry, stepped inside its guard, and drove his training blade forward in a thrust. The tip stopped less than an inch from the robot's LED face. The display froze.

Then colorful pixelated confetti exploded across the screen as a triumphant fanfare chimed from the machine's speakers. Difficulty Level: Kaiser Grade: A+ Kenji lowered his sword.

"Thank you for your services." The training bot hunched over its frame in a bow. A faint mechanical whir followed as it turned away and crossed the dojo. It returned its wooden sword to one of the nearby weapon barrels, then shuffled toward a charging dock mounted flush against the wall. The sleek charging device was shaped like a chair, with an LED screen mounted above the headrest displaying the dock's status.

At the center of its smooth metal seat, a long and girthy cylindrical circular charging port protruded from the surface. The robot approached the station, turned around, and lowered itself into the seat. With a precise mechanical adjustment, it slotted the tube directly into it rear. The LED screen blinked to life. Charging — 37% A long rectangular battery indicator appeared beneath the text, and just over a third of its segmented bars illuminated.

"I assume you're doing well without the need for me to spectate you?" Kenji asked, his deep voice carrying across the training room. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the wooden sword gliding through the air. It dropped neatly into the barrel among the other training weapons.

"Yes, Father," Shota replied formally.

"Your rank?"

"First."

"That is good news." Kenji's expression remained composed, his voice an even rumble.

"Let's use this intermission stage to sharpen your edge."

"Yes, Father." Kenji raised one hand, and his dimensional ring flashed. Two longswords warped into existence—real weapons this time, their sharpened steel catching the light. He tossed one toward Shota, who caught it by the hilt, then closed both hands around his own. Kenji settled the blade beside his hip. Then lunged. Shota barely had time to brace before steel crashed against steel with a sharp clang. Their blades locked between them, both swords trembling beneath the pressure.

Father and son stared directly into each other's eyes as Kenji steadily leaned forward, increasing the force behind his weapon little by little. Shota clenched his jaw and dug his heels into the floorboards, but resisting the raw strength of a Kaiser opponent quickly became impossible. Before Kenji could completely overwhelm his guard, Shota twisted his blade free and hop-stepped backward.

As he retreated beyond Kenji's reach, Shota snapped his arm forward and whipped the tip of his sword toward the back of his father's hand. Kenji caught the attack instantly. Rather than block with his blade, he lowered his grip by a fraction and intercepted the strike with the thin steel crossguard. Shota's sword bounced harmlessly away.

"You dare attack while fleeing, coward?" Kenji sneered.

"You deem it cowardice. I call it a tactical retreat." Shota shrugged, letting the longsword hang loosely in his grip.

"How exactly do you expect me to beat you in a contest of strength with that kind of rank discrepancy?" Kenji shook his head, letting out a long, dissapointed sigh.

"A commander does not hide behind a level difference." His voice dropped.

"He pushes forward regardless of the adversity before him. He does not flee. He fights until the end—until his men tear through the enemy, or until he sacrifices his own life so they may live to fight another day." If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it. Kenji raised his sword again, his gaze narrowing.

"In the end, you only have one option." He aimed the blade at Shota.

"To fight."

"That sounds a bit excessive, don't you think?" Shota retorted, carelessly wagging the tip of his sword toward his father's direction.

"Sure, you can wear your honor on your chest, die a noble death, and have your name etched into history. But at the end of the day, if you're dead, who leads your army when they need you most? A faction without someone to guide it will fall apart eventually, and your men will die all the same." Kenji scoffed at his son's retort, the corner of his mouth curling into the faintest smirk.

"Your logic is sound…" He allowed the silence to stretch for a moment.

"When you lack the strength."

"An ordinary commander has the luxury of choosing how he wishes to lead his army. A commander of The Forge has one option, and one option alone: eviscerate every adversary personally, regardless of how many soldiers stand behind him. His army exists merely to accelerate the process—not to tip the scale." Kenji tightened his grip around the sword.

"For that, you must become powerful. So powerful, in fact, that the title of commander no longer suits you anymore—replaced by the title of ruler." Shota raised a brow and folded his arms.

"And that's what you expect from me? To become a ruler?" Kenji shook his head.

"Not an expectation. A certainty. As I said, a commander of The Forge has only one path to walk, and that applies to every current and future leader of this guild." His eyes settled on his son.

"I've watched you walk that path every step of the way, and I don't think it suits me." Shota shifted the sword against his shoulder.

"Being shackled to your guild, carrying that kind of responsibility everywhere you go… Why would any sane man willingly choose that life?" Kenji clicked his tongue and slowly shook his head, disappointment creasing his face.

"You are too young to understand. Eventually, I won't need to force you to seize the throne. You'll sit upon it willingly, of your own volition." He raised his blade.

"Until then, it is my responsibility to hone you for the day that comes." Kenji planted one foot against the floor, setting his stance shoulder-width apart, then extended his sword in front of him. The peace of the training room vanished. Pressure crashed over Shota as a dark azure aura erupted from Kenji's body, flames twisting around his frame without producing a trace of heat.

The air itself seemed to thicken, and Shota's chest tightened beneath the oppressive force, forcing him to drag in short, shallow breaths as a bead of sweat slid down his temple. His father was restraining himself—releasing only enough of his Aura Flare to keep Shota under constant pressure without crushing him outright. Kenji remained motionless within the burning azure haze, sword held steadily before him. He stood like a statue. He was waiting for Shota to attack.

Testing whether his son had the nerve to become the aggressor against someone whose strength eclipsed his own by a thousandfold. Shota stared at him for a beat, then a massive grin split across his face, his eyes widening as adrenaline surged hot through his veins.

"Now you're speaking my language, Dad!" Shota accepted the challenge. But he couldn't face his father as he was now. Sword Sense An azure ring formed around Shota's irises. His senses sharpened instantly, the world around him snapping into full clarity. He could hear the steady rhythm of Kenji's breathing, the faint electronic beeping of the charging dock in the corner, even the muffled clack of training swords coming from the adjacent rooms.

Shota burst forward in a blur, crossing the three-foot gap between them in less than half a second. His sword swept horizontally toward his father's ribs. Kenji didn't need Sword Sense to read the attack. He extended his blade toward his side, already prepared to intercept the strike. Shota never intended to follow through. At the last instant, he snapped his arm upward, redirecting the blade toward Kenji's chin. Kenji's brows lifted slightly at the feint, but surprise was all Shota earned.

In a split second, his father twisted his wrist, pulled his elbow above his head, and brought his sword down vertically in front of his face. Steel collided inches from Kenji's chin. Shota immediately recoiled and launched into another attack. Then another. And another. His blade carved through the air from every angle—shoulder, ribs, neck, thigh—each strike targeting an opening revealed by Sword Sense. But Kenji parried them all.

The ringing of steel crescendoed into a relentless rhythm that echoed throughout the training room. Sweat soaked Shota's forehead and streamed along his jaw. But he refused to slow down. Through Sword Sense, he could perceive every brief opening in Kenji's defense. Against an opponent closer to his own level, those gaps would have been fatal. Against Kenji, they meant nothing. The difference in strength was simply too great.

No matter how perfectly Shota timed his attacks, Kenji intercepted each one at the final possible moment, almost as though he were deliberately allowing the blade close enough to give his son hope before batting it aside. Their exchange continued for nearly five minute before Kenji finally stopped indulging him. He slipped past the next slash, opened his free hand, and drove his palm into Shota's chest. The impact knocked the air from Shota's lungs and sent him skidding several feet across the wooden floor.

"Good. Good!" Kenji roared, a fierce grin spreading across his scarred face.

"That's the vigor I want to see." He raised his sword again.

"Now, let's raise the bar. How well you can split your focus?" Mana particles shimmered into existence above Kenji's head. They gathered rapidly, compressing and taking shape until the outline of a longsword formed in the air. A moment later, the weapon solidified completely, identical to the steel blade in his hands. Shota wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his sleeve and grunted.

"Fine by me." Mana gathered above him in response, and his own conjured sword took shape. The two AetherBlades shot forward at nearly the same instant. They collided in midair with a violent metallic crack, grinding against one another as each fighter fought for control. Kenji and Shota surged forward beneath them, trailing just behind their airborne weapons. Their physical swords crashed together a beat later. Above them, the AetherBlades remained locked, and below, father and son resumed their duel.

Now Shota had two battles to fight at once. Overhead chops were blocked. Thrusts were answered with sidesteps. Slashes met swift parries. Above them, their AetherBlades mirrored the exchange, weaving through the air and colliding in a constant ring of steel. The duel remained locked in a stalemate until Kenji finally broke through. With one devastating swing, he smashed Shota's sword from his grip. The weapon spun across the training room with a sharp whir, leaving Shota disarmed. But not completely.

At the exact moment Kenji overwhelmed him in close combat, Shota poured more force into his AetherBlade and knocked his father's conjured weapon away. Both swords went flying in opposite directions—Shota's physical blade to one side of the dojo and Kenji's AetherBlade to the other. They impaled the walls at the same instant. Kenji's arm remained extended, the tip of his sword hovering barely an inch from the bridge of Shota's nose.

Behind Kenji, Shota's AetherBlade hung in the air, its point leveled at the back of his neck. Shota held one palm upward with two fingers extended. All he had to do was curl them inward and give the command.

"I guess it's a tie," Shota said, a wide grin spreading across his face. His chest rose and fell with ragged breaths, and sweat had drenched his hair, leaving damp strands clinging to his forehead.

"And so it may seem." Kenji, by contrast, looked untouched. Not a bead of sweat marked his face, and his breathing remained slow and composed. Father and son relaxed at the same time. Kenji withdrew the sword from Shota's face while Shota dismissed his AetherBlade, its shape dissolving into drifting mana particles. Across the room, Kenji's conjured weapon dispersed as well. He then extended a hand toward the opposite wall, recalling Shota's physical sword into his grip.

"You've been prioritizing your mastery over the Aether compared to your melee combat." Kenji tossed the weapon back. Shota caught it by the hilt.

"You're getting sloppy with your training."

"It's not considered sloppy if I intentionally chose to prioritize my Aether." Shota gave a careless shrug and tilted his head in mock deference.

"What if I just prefer that over melee combat?" Kenji slowly shook his head at his son's dismissive attitude.

"A kid is still a kid in the end. Then all we can do is correct the imbalance." He turned and crossed the room toward the training robot resting in its charging station. Gripping it by the shoulders, Kenji pulled it free from the dock. The machine's LED display flickered awake with a soft electronic chime. Kenji tapped through several options on the screen and finally settled on one.

Combat Difficulty: Kaiser The robot immediately moved toward the weapon barrels, picked up a wooden sword, and marched back toward Shota. Its mechanical joints whirred softly as it stopped several feet away and raised the training weapon.

"You will spar with this bot in melee combat at Kaiser difficulty until the intermission ends," Kenji said. Shota's smile faded slightly.

"The only rest you'll receive is when your body collapses from exhaustion. And even then, the fight will continue." Kenji's voice remained low and controlled, yet every word carried enough menace that he didn't need to raise it.

"I'll permit you to use the Aether side of your class that you cherish so much to keep the bot from killing you while you catch your breath and drag yourself back to your feet."

"Do I make myself clear?" Shota squared himself toward the machine, lowering into a combat stance with his knees slightly bent and his sword held firmly before him. A dark azure Aura Flare erupted around his body. It lacked the crushing magnitude of his father's, but the sudden pressure was still enough to rattle the wooden training weapons inside their barrels. Shota stared down the Kaiser-level machine, then glanced toward his father with a crooked grin.

"You know, now that I think about it, I don't think you're a commander or a ruler." Kenji raised a brow. Shota tightened his grip on the sword.

"You're just an abusive father." The corner of his lip curled up.