Amukelo: The Burdened Path

Chapter 95 - You Have Potential

Dainor raised his hand, then brought it down sharply. "Begin!"

Amukelo surged forward, closing the distance in a blink. His blade whistled through the air as he swung with renewed force, this time clenching the hilt tighter, making sure his attack carried true impact.

Padrin's eyes flickered with interest as he lifted his sword, his stance adjusting just enough to catch the attack at the perfect angle.

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This time it was a solid clash. Not the weak, easy-to-stop strike from before. This time, there was weight behind it.

Padrin's lips quirked into a slight smile. But then Amukelo followed through with the same dagger maneuver. His smile vanished.

Padrin pushed Amukelo's sword back with a swift flick of his wrist, then stepped back just enough for the dagger's tip to slice through air instead of his ribs. With fluid precision, he instantly reversed the momentum, thrusting his blade straight into Amukelo's torso before he could recover.

The impact stung, forcing Amukelo to stop mid-motion. He let out a frustrated exhale, stepping back as he muttered, "Damn it."

Padrin sighed, shaking his head slightly. "That was better." His voice wasn't mocking, but it held undeniable authority. "Your strike actually had force behind it this time. But what did you do right after?"

Amukelo's shoulders tensed.

"You went for the exact same move with your dagger." Padrin crossed his arms, his stare sharp. "You were literally just praised for your creativity. And then you turn around and repeat the same predictable attack?"

Amukelo nodded quickly, absorbing the words, then jogged back to his place.

Padrin exhaled. "One more round." His voice dropped lower, a subtle edge creeping in. "If you don't surprise me this time, that's it. I won't waste any more of my time."

Amukelo's jaw tightened, his fingers flexing around his weapons. His mind raced. He had to do something different. Something unexpected.

Dainor smirked, sensing the growing tension in the air. He raised his hand, waiting a beat longer than usual to let the anticipation simmer before finally calling, "Begin!"

Amukelo exploded forward, his speed sharper than before. But this time, he wasn't just charging in blindly.

His fingers twitched around his dagger, and as he moved, he suddenly hurled it high into the air.

It wasn't a direct throw—it spun in a slow arc, almost lazily, its path intersecting the battlefield in a way that wasn't immediately threatening.

Padrin raised an eyebrow, his stance completely unshaken. Then, at the last possible second, he simply stepped aside, letting the dagger drop uselessly behind him.

But by the time he did—Amukelo was already there. He made a powerful two-handed swing.

Padrin's expression shifted—only slightly, but enough for the others to notice.

His sword flattened at the impact, the force of Amukelo's strike actually pushing it slightly off-course.

Padrin jumped back immediately, just enough to be out of reach of Amukelo's follow-up strike. But his eyes had narrowed with genuine interest.

Amukelo smirked. He had forced him to move.

But before he could do anything more, Padrin struck with a single thurst.

Amukelo barely had time to register the blade before it connected just below his ribs.

His breath left him instantly, his body locking up from the sudden loss of air. He stumbled back, his knees buckling, his chest tight as he gasped for oxygen.

Padrin lowered his blade, watching him with analyzing eyes as Amukelo clutched his stomach, still struggling to breathe properly.

"Better." His voice wasn't mocking. It wasn't even arrogant. It was simply a fact.

"You actually forced me to move," he continued. "That's not bad."

Amukelo, still gasping, looked up.

Padrin shrugged. "But you were still wide open."

The frustration boiled in Amukelo's chest, but he nodded. He wasn't angry at Padrin. He was angry at himself.

He knew he had an opening—he could feel it right before Padrin struck. But his reaction was too slow.

Padrin turned away, already walking back toward the wall, his stance completely relaxed again.

"That's enough," he said flatly. "I'm done here."

Amukelo gritted his teeth and pushed himself up, still breathing hard. His entire body felt sluggish, like he had been thrown against a wall over and over, but his mind was still racing.

He couldn't just let Padrin leave like that. "Wait!"

Padrin paused. His back was still turned, but his head tilted slightly, enough to acknowledge the call without truly engaging.

"No, I will not give you any more of my time." His voice was flat, dismissive.

Amukelo took a deep breath, willing his lungs to work properly, then shook his head. "No, that's not what I want." He took a step forward, ignoring the soreness in his muscles. "I wanted to say... thank you."

Padrin finally turned, one eyebrow raising slightly, the only indication that he was surprised by the words.

Amukelo bowed slightly, a gesture of genuine respect. "At first, I just thought you were arrogant, but... now I see just how much I've improved simply from those few matches. Thank you for that."

For a moment, Padrin just looked at him,. Then, after a beat, the corner of his mouth quirked up in a smirk.

"Whatever." He waved his hand dismissively, but there was something else in his tone—not mockery, not condescension. "Just don't disappoint me." His blue eyes narrowed slightly, the smirk still playing on his lips. "Make sure that next time I see you, you've corrected all those mistakes. Otherwise, forget about ever sparring with me again." And with that, he left.

Amukelo let out a long breath, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair before turning back toward his friends.

They were waiting for him, standing next to Dainor and their previous sparring opponents. As Amukelo approached, Bral grinned and clapped him on the back, nearly knocking him over.

"Ahh..." Amukelo groaned, stretching his sore limbs. "He crushed me." He let out a half-hearted chuckle, but it was filled with frustration. "He wasn't even using his second hand, and I was destroyed."

Bral let out a sharp laugh. "What are you complaining for? You got to have a match with him. That's huge!"

Amukelo frowned. "Really?"

Dainor nodded. "It's not often Padrin offers people his time." His voice carried a weight of certainty, and his keen eyes studied Amukelo carefully. "And right now, he's struggling with finding a training partner on his level. It's not that there aren't skilled fighters here—there are. But he keeps outgrowing them. And those who are stronger than him already have their own partners."

Amukelo's eyes widened slightly. "Wait, are you saying..."

Dainor smirked. "Who knows? Maybe he saw something in you."

Amukelo's stomach twisted—with excitement, nerves, disbelief.

"You proved yourself in a way," Dainor continued. "You took his advice and applied it immediately. You have potential, kid. And if you manage to grow in strength and catch up to him, you might become his training partner."

Amukelo's jaw dropped slightly. "Really?!"

Dainor nodded. "It's rare to find someone who can match his pace of growth. If you show that you can keep up, he might just consider it."

Idin chuckled, crossing his arms. "I can't believe that the first thing Amukelo gets after joining this facility is a nod of approval from someone everyone here would kill to impress."

Bral snorted. "Honestly, it's kind of annoying. We've been here longer, even if just a little bit, and Padrin barely acknowledges us."

Bao rolled her eyes. "That's because he knows you're an idiot."

Bral clutched his chest dramatically. "That hurt. Deeply."

Dainor watched them with an amused smirk, then cleared his throat. "Anyway."

The group fell silent, turning their attention back to him.

"Based on what I've seen today, I'll be creating your schedules and assigning you to specific classes. I want to make sure you get the most out of your time here." His gaze landed on Amukelo and Bao in particular. "You both have different weaknesses, but your strengths are clear. You'll need different approaches in your training, but if you commit to it, you'll improve fast."

Both Amukelo and Bao nodded firmly.

Dainor continued, "It'll take me about an hour to finalize everything. In the meantime, use the open training space however you see fit. Practice, stretch, spar with others—just don't sit around doing nothing."

With that, Dainor and Ewan turned and left, disappearing through one of the doors as the rest of the spectators slowly trickled out, now that the excitement had settled.

Amukelo let out a deep sigh, rolling his shoulders. "That's... a lot of pressure," he admitted.

Bral grinned and punched his shoulder lightly. "Don't complain. You got an opportunity most people would never even think of getting. In fact, I'm kind of jealous."

Amukelo chuckled weakly, rubbing his sore arm. "You? Jealous of me? That's a first."

Bral threw an arm over his shoulder, laughing loudly. "Yeah, yeah, don't get cocky. You've still got a long way to go."