He was pulled away from his thoughts by the sharp knocks on his door.
He took a shaky breath and "Come in" he said, his voice raspy but steady.
The oak door swung open, revealing Eligius. He looked directly at Artorias.
"Young Artorias, my Lord ordered me to personally guide you through your training. I will be shaping you into a weapon he can use, I hope you are ready for what awaits you." He narrowed his eyes, he was testing Artorias. Which Artorias didn't hold himself back when he answered.
"I am more than ready, you want to guide me? Do it. Break me and reshape me if you want, I don't care as long as I can get stronger."
Eligius looked at him expresionlessly for a moment then nodded. "Then follow." Eligius turned on his heel and walked through the corridor.
Artorias followed behind without a word. Together they descended the staircase and arrived into a massive subterranean courtyard.
It was a grand space, lighted by strategically placed mana-crystals that cast a beautiful glow over polished marble floors. Racks of gleaming weapons lined the walls, alongside training dummies. It was an arena built for one purpose.
Eligius stopped in his tracks and turned to him. "Grab a weapon, whichever one you want."
Artorias did as he told obediently, he looked at the high quality weapons and with a few seconds of thinking he grabbed a sword. He didn't swing it or play with it. He knew it wouldn't amuse Eligius. "Swing it to me." Eligius said.
Artorias didn't hesitate. He tightened his grip on the hilt. The steel was heavier than he expected, his muscles still wasted away from his time in the dark, but he forced his arms to bear it. He lunged forward, putting his entire weight into a vicious downward cleave aimed straight at Eligius's shoulder.
Eligius didn't draw a weapon. He didn't even shift his stance until the very last second.
With a slight pivot of his heel, the man stepped smoothly to the side. Artorias's blade sliced through empty air, the momentum dragging him clumsily forward. Before Artorias could correct his footing, Eligius casually extended a foot. Artorias tripped, sprawling hard onto the polished marble with a loud clatter.
"Too wide," Eligius noted, his voice entirely devoid of exertion. "You showed that strike before you even lifted your arms."
Artorias scrambled to his feet, his jaw clenched tight. The heavy stone of guilt he had carried in his room was gone, replaced by a sudden, burning humiliation caused by his own inadequacy. He rushed forward again, this time swinging the blade in a horizontal arc.
Eligius simply stepped inside the guard. He raised a single, leather-gloved hand and slapped the flat of Artorias's blade away with a sharp smack. The reverberation shot up Artorias's weakened arms, numbing his fingers. In the same fluid motion, Eligius drove the palm of his other hand squarely into Artorias's chest.
It wasn't a lethal blow, but it carried the force of a war machine. Artorias was thrown backward, sliding across the floor, gasping as the air was forced from his lungs.
"You grip the sword like you are trying to strangle it," Eligius said coldly, finally walking over to a rack and picking up a plain, unvarnished wooden sparring stick. "You swing with your shoulders, ignoring your hips. You have no foundation. You are not a warrior, Artorias..." He said coldly and "Not yet at least." He added quietly.
Artorias was panting heavily to even his ragged breathing. He looked at eligius with rage and shame mixed in his expression. Artorias dug his boots into the polished marble, forcing himself back to his feet despite the sharp ache radiating through his hollowed chest. The humiliation stung far worse than the physical impact, feeding the dark, raw anger he had just decided would be his weapon. With a furious, ragged shout, he lunged again, completely abandoning whatever meager restraint he had left. He swung the heavy steel wildly; a barrage of clumsy, desperate slashes fueled entirely by adrenaline and the agonizing memories of his powerlessness. He didn't care about his hips or his foundation; he just wanted to wipe that effortless, judging calm from Eligius's face, blinding himself to the fact that every careless, overextended strike left him completely exposed to the older man's wooden stick.
Eligius didn't retreat. He stepped into the upcoming charge with infuriating precision.
Crack. The plain wooden stick lashed out faster than Artorias could track, biting sharply into his exposed ribs. Artorias gasped, his swing faltering, but before he could pull back to defend himself, the wood struck again crack this time biting hard behind his left knee.
His leg buckled. Artorias caught himself with a snarl, ignoring the sharp, pulsing pain, and thrust the heavy steel blade forward in a desperate lunge.
Eligius simply tapped the flat of the sword with his stick, effortlessly redirecting the lethal point away. As Artorias stumbled past him, carried by his own reckless momentum, Eligius brought the stick down hard across Artorias's right wrist.
The bone-jarring impact sent a shockwave of numbness up to his shoulder. Artorias's fingers involuntarily uncurled, and the steel sword slipped from his grasp, clattering loudly across the polished marble.
Before the sound could even echo through the cavernous room, Eligius's foot swept Artorias's remaining leg out from under him.
He hit the floor violently. The last of his breath left him in a hollow, agonizing wheeze. Artorias lay there, his chest heaving as he stared up at the glowing mana-crystals on the ceiling. He tried to push himself up, his fingers clawing uselessly at the smooth stone, but his wasted muscles simply refused to obey. His arms trembled violently before collapsing beneath him. His vision blurred at the edges. He was completely, utterly spent.
Eligius stepped into his line of sight. The older man stood over him, the tip of the wooden stick resting lightly against the hollow of Artorias's throat. Eligius wasn't even sweating.
"Rage makes you predictable," Eligius said, his voice calm and echoing in the vast, quiet room. "It makes you swing at the ghosts of your past while the man standing in front of you breaks your bones. You wanted me to break you? Consider it done."
Eligius pulled the stick away and tossed it casually onto a nearby rack.
"If blind anger is all you have to offer, the Kingdom will put you right back in a cage before the week is out," Eligius continued, looking down at the broken boy. "Rest for five minutes. Then stand up. We are going to teach you how to hold a sword without strangling it."