Rio stood across from Ogram, the distance between them just enough to breathe—but not enough to feel safe.
Ogram rested his sword casually against his shoulder, his sharp eyes scanning Rio from head to toe.
"Hm."
A brief pause.
"I never asked your name."
Rio straightened slightly.
"It's Noctis, sir."
Ogram's brow lifted just a fraction.
"Noctis, huh…"
He adjusted his grip on the sword, then stepped forward once, planting the blade tip lightly against the ground.
"Fine."
A faint smirk tugged at his lips.
"Let's see how long you last."
Rio didn't move.
Didn't reach for a weapon.
Didn't even know if he should.
Ogram noticed.
"…You don't even know how to hold a sword, do you?"
It wasn't a question.
Rio stayed silent.
Ogram clicked his tongue.
"Tch. Useless."
But he didn't attack.
Instead, he turned slightly and tossed a wooden training sword toward Rio.
Rio caught it—barely adjusting in time.
The weight felt… unfamiliar.
Not heavy.
Just—
Wrong.
"Listen carefully," Ogram said, his tone shifting slightly. Not softer—but more focused.
"This isn't about strength."
He stepped forward, positioning himself properly.
"It's about control."
He raised his sword.
"Your grip is wrong."
Rio glanced down.
Ogram moved closer and adjusted his hands without hesitation.
"Not too tight. You're not strangling it."
He shifted Rio's stance with a light tap of his foot.
"Balance your weight. If you can't stand properly, you can't swing properly."
Rio followed, stiff at first, then gradually adjusting.
"…Like this?"
Ogram didn't answer immediately.
He circled him once.
Then—
"Hm. Better than nothing."
Ogram stepped back and raised his own sword again.
"Watch."
His posture changed.
Subtly.
But completely.
The lazy, irritated old man disappeared.
What stood in front of Rio now—
Was something else.
"Every swing has purpose," Ogram said.
"No wasted movement."
He lifted the blade slightly.
"Too wide, and you lose speed."
He shifted.
"Too tight, and you lose power."
Then—
He moved.
The swing was simple.
Clean.
Straight.
But Rio's eyes widened.
He hadn't even seen when it started.
Only the end.
The air split with a sharp sound, a faint pressure rippling outward as the blade cut through empty space.
Ogram stopped.
Lowered the sword.
Like nothing had happened.
"…What was that?"
Rio's grip tightened unconsciously.
That wasn't flashy.
There was no energy burst.
No visible technique.
And yet—
It felt dangerous.
Ogram glanced at him.
"That?"
He snorted lightly.
"Just a basic cut."
Rio didn't respond.
Because that made it worse.
"Again," Ogram said.
He stepped back into position.
"Watch closely this time."
This time, Rio focused harder.
Every movement.
Every shift.
Every breath.
Ogram inhaled slightly.
His body aligned.
Then—
He stepped forward.
The blade moved.
Rio's eyes tracked it.
Barely.
A straight line.
Perfect.
No hesitation.
No wasted motion.
The air cracked again.
Sharper this time.
More precise.
Ogram stopped.
"…You see it?"
Rio hesitated.
"…A little."
Ogram clicked his tongue.
"Tch. That's already more than most."
He turned fully toward him now.
"This is where you start."
He pointed at Rio's sword.
"Swing."
Rio swallowed.
Then moved.
His swing was slow.
Unsteady.
The blade wavered slightly before completing the motion.
Ogram watched.
Silently.
Then—
"…Terrible."
Rio exhaled quietly.
"…Figured."
"Again."
Rio swung.
"Wrong."
Again.
"Too stiff."
Again.
"Your shoulders are tense."
Again.
"Stop thinking so much."
Minutes passed.
Then longer.
Rio's arms began to ache slightly.
His breathing grew heavier.
But he didn't stop.
Ogram watched the entire time.
Correcting.
Adjusting.
Breaking down every mistake without hesitation.
Eventually—
Ogram raised a hand.
"Stop."
Rio lowered the sword, exhaling.
Ogram stepped forward again.
"…You're not completely hopeless."
Rio blinked slightly.
"…Thanks. I think."
Ogram ignored that.
Instead, he turned and took a few steps away.
"…Now watch carefully."
His tone changed again.
More serious.
More focused.
"This—"
He raised his sword.
"—is a technique."
The air shifted.
Not violently.
But noticeably.
Ogram's stance lowered slightly, his grip tightening just enough.
For a brief moment—
Everything stilled.
Then—
He moved.
Faster than before.
Cleaner.
Sharper.
The blade cut forward in a single, decisive motion.
This time—
Rio saw it.
Not clearly.
But enough.
A line.
Invisible.
But present.
The air split.
A faint distortion followed the path of the blade, lingering for just a second before disappearing.
No explosion.
No destruction.
Just—
A cut.
Perfect.
Absolute.
Ogram lowered his sword.
"…First Form."
A pause.
"Straight Cut."
Rio stared.
His mind trying to process it.
"…That's a technique…?"
Ogram glanced at him.
"…What did you expect? Fireworks?"
Rio didn't answer.
Because that single cut—
Felt more dangerous than anything he had seen so far.
Ogram turned fully toward him again.
"Your turn."
Rio blinked.
"…You're joking."
Ogram didn't smile.
"Do I look like I am?"
Rio tightened his grip on the wooden sword.
His arms still ached.
His body still wasn't used to it.
But—
He stepped forward anyway.
"…Alright."
Ogram watched him closely.
Not relaxed anymore.
Not dismissive.
Observing.
Because even he—
Was curious.
What kind of swing—
Would come from something like him.
Rio stepped forward, the wooden sword still unfamiliar in his grip.
His arms ached slightly from the repeated swings, his stance not yet stable, his breathing uneven—but he didn't stop.
He couldn't.
Ogram was watching.
Everyone else had slowed down too, their attention subtly shifting toward the center.
Rio adjusted his footing, remembering what Ogram had shown him.
Balance first.
Grip second.
Don't force it.
He exhaled slowly.
"…Alright."
---
He raised the sword.
Ogram's voice came, calm but sharp.
"Don't copy what you saw."
Rio paused.
"…What?"
"Understand it," Ogram said. "If you just imitate, you'll fail."
Rio frowned slightly.
That's not helpful.
Still—
He moved.
A step forward.
A shift in weight.
His shoulders aligned.
Then—
He swung.
At first, it was normal.
Clumsy.
Unrefined.
Exactly what Ogram expected.
But halfway through—
Something changed.
Rio felt it before he understood it.
A faint pull.
From within.
His grip tightened instinctively.
…What is—
The swing didn't stop.
But it didn't feel like his anymore.
The movement corrected itself.
Subtly.
His posture adjusted without thought.
His balance shifted.
Perfect.
Ogram's eyes narrowed.
…That's not his movement.
Rio's vision blurred slightly.
A faint pressure built behind his chest.
Not pain.
Not exactly.
Just—
Too much.
Stop.
The thought came too late.
The sword cut forward.
And for a brief moment—
Everything aligned.
Too perfectly.
The air split.
Not like Ogram's.
Not clean.
Not controlled.
Violent.
A sharp distortion tore through the space in front of him, the air bending unnaturally as multiple forces collided within a single motion.
A flicker of heat.
A crackle of lightning.
A ripple of something far deeper—
Something that didn't belong.
The floor cracked.
A thin line spread outward from where the blade passed, splitting the reinforced surface like glass under pressure.
Silence.
Rio froze.
His breath caught in his throat.
"…What…?"
The sword slipped slightly in his hand.
His fingers trembled.
That wasn't—
Ogram moved instantly.
He stepped forward and slammed the flat of his blade down in front of Rio—
The pressure vanished.
Completely.
Like it had been cut off.
"Enough."
His voice wasn't loud.
But it stopped everything.
Rio staggered back slightly, his body suddenly feeling heavier than before.
"…I didn't—"
He stopped.
Because he didn't know how to finish that sentence.
Ogram stared at him.
Not irritated.
Not amused.
Serious.
"…You didn't control that."
It wasn't a question.
Rio's grip tightened again.
"…No."
Around them, the hall had gone quiet.
Completely.
Even the experienced members were watching now.
Not casually.
Not with interest.
With caution.
Ogram glanced briefly at the cracked floor.
Then back at Rio.
"…You felt it, didn't you?"
Rio hesitated.
"…Yeah."
"That wasn't your technique."
Ogram's voice lowered slightly.
"That was your core leaking into your movement."
Rio's chest tightened.
Core…?
Ogram stepped closer again.
Not aggressively.
But with purpose.
"You're unstable."
---
The word landed heavily.
"If you swing like that again without control—"
He paused.
-
"You won't be the only one getting cut."
Rio went still.
That—
Wasn't a warning.
That was a fact.
---
Ogram exhaled quietly, then straightened.
"…Tch."
For a moment, he didn't say anything.
Then—
"…Again."
Rio blinked.
"…What?"
---
Ogram looked at him like he was stupid.
"Did I stutter?"
"…You just said—"
"I said you're unstable," Ogram interrupted.
"Not useless."
A pause.
"Which means we fix it."
Rio stared at him.
Then slowly—
Tightened his grip again.
"…Right."
But this time—
As he raised the sword—
He was aware of it.
That thing inside him.
Watching.
Waiting.
And if he wasn't careful—
It wouldn't just move his sword.
It would move him.