One, two, three. And charge. Back. Charge again. Back. And slash.
The long sword in Athran's hands only flashed in the bright, burning sun, as its blade repeatedly hit the leather plates, covering a training dummy. His feet brushed against the dry grass as he turned around it in circles, more dust arising beneath his rugged boots. His black hair was hanging around his face, picked up and blown back by the wind. He wiped the sweat off his face and let his sword down, peering into the distance. There was no one around, and the training field was silent. There was no one but him.
He picked up his weapon and continued training. As he was taught in his youth - you improve all the time. There's no time when you'd be too old to train. And there's never a thing that couldn't be improved, or learned. The thudding of his sword rang through the air as he approached the training dummy with a series of well-aimed, strong slashes and thrusts, until the figure itself fell apart after an exceptionally violent blow. Athran stepped back. There was only one problem with training in ordinary training fields - he destroyed everything. Sooner or later, the equipment would break, fall into shards, shatter and rip. One training dummy could hardly last more than a week, not if he held nothing back. And there was still no fire.
He breathed in and stepped back, staring at the pieces of wood and leather, laying across the ground. After a while, he grabbed the bottle of water, till now placed on his shirt and coat nearby. It was warm and stale, but better than nothing... He put his sword back to its sheath and grabbed a pair of long, slim scimitars. It was time to practice dual wielding.
He unsheathed them and continued training. Soon, the leather plates were covered in cuts and scratches, but he didn't perceive them - his mind was slowly sinking into memories and thoughts.
Lost in the streets of a city. Bleeding on the cold stones where even fire couldn't help him, alone in the dark. The first time when I was alone. The first time when I was by myself, and there was no one. No one! There never was anyone... He shook his head to chase the bleak thoughts away, and kept slashing the wooden figure with his long scimitars.
Training was the only thing he could concentrate on during daytime, when not flying with Maigrod, or fighting. Nothing kept him entertained...
Such is the price to pay. I traded my loneliness for my skills... I knew what I'm going into, I'm the only one to blame. From the start, I knew how it will be. One of the scimitars glinted in the sun, reflected its rays from its ornate surface, and sliced off a piece of the wood. I can't even really regret it... Always torn to two as if I didn't even know what I want! The blades clinked as they clashed together, and the wood thudded as they hit it. What do I even want? I always think I've reached my goals, and then they disappear like morning dew in the summer sun! What do I want off this? He kicked into the figure and kept slashing it. I'm a fool! I don't even know what I want, I'm chasing after the wind like a complete... Idiot!
He leaped into the air, kicked into the figure's head with both of his feet, and fell into the dust below. The stick on which the training dummy was placed broke, and the figure collapsed onto the ground. He kept staring at the sky in complete silence, hearing even his pounding heartbeat.
Really, what am I chasing after?
