What?
What was Yvain thinking i chapter?
[Well, now Yvain thought that fag that man head on was easier for him than fag these old politis.]
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!”
BLAAAAAAAST!!!
“WAAAAAAAA!”
Yvain dashed across a vast clearing, his breaths quid ragged, as two hulking mech armors—shiny new models—lumbered after him.
They fired bursts of ser beams, the miniature version of what they used in the war, yet menag, that zipped through the air, singeing the grass at his heels.
Not too far behind, Emperor Burn trailed the chaotic se, his cackle cutting through the temosphere.
"IS THIS REALLY FORCE TRAINING?!" Yvain yelled over the noise, dodging another ser that scorched a path armingly close to him. “WAAAAAAAAAH!”
"This is physical training. Outsmart the AI ons targeting you automatically with their sers!" Burn called back, his voice bubbling with a vilinous mirth that seemed thhly unhelpful.
Burn’s ughter echoed around them, a sound that seemed to find particur joy iuation.
Yvain, meanwhile, turned agility into an art form, weaviween ser bsts with a grace born of sheer panic, his every move a relut dah teology.
"WHAT’S ! Are you askio dodge raindrops in a thuorm ime?! YOU’RE CRAZY!" Yvain shouted back.
Burn just ughed harder, thhly enjoying the spectacle of his new sword pying a high-stakes game of tag with maes.
“What? You wanna give up? Do you even want to find your master?” Burn teased.
Yvain flinched.
This so-called Force training was Burn's test training idea, aimed at ensuring Yvain's body was as robust as his Vision talents.
The idea was that Yvain o be more than just a le magical sniper; he had to ehe occasional grunt work of close bat without wheezing like a retired draft horse.
The training regime, cooked up by Burn (possibly during a moment of sadistic whimsy), was multifaceted.
It wasn’t enough for Yvain to simply summoral armies or rain magical destru from a safe distano, he o dodge, duck, dip, dive, and dodge—essentially being a nimble ninja in a wizard’s robe.
"Stamina and defense, boy! Imagine you're dang—except every misstep could singe your dearest behind," Burn would shout, almost helpfully, as Yvain scampered around trying not to get zapped.
In theory, blending Ford Vision was a masterstroke—marrying the endurance of a marathon runner with the devastating finesse of a sharpshooter.
In practice, it looked more like teag a cat to swim by throwing it into a ke and yelling, “Paddle!”
The goal was to transform Yvain from a delicate magic wielder into a robust mage-warrior, capable of dispatg enemies whether they were across the field or in his face.
But as Yvai about, narrowly avoiding ser bsts, he couldn’t help but think that perhaps his survival was less a testament to his emerging skills and more to his growing paranoia about what Burn might think of .
"Great, so now I’m training to be an acrobat in a circus aext, you'll have me juggling fming swords, or maybe dang on tightropes over spike pits!" he'd mutter under his breath, adding a mental o maybe skim a few self-help books on boundary setting with tyrannical guardians.
"Pussy boy, how gentle was your master in training you that you keep protesting like this?"
“My master’s training is harder than this!” Yvain yelled in anger. “A muscle brain like you won’t uand!”
"Ho..." Burn smirked, intrigued to have finally found a youngster who wasn't intimidated by him. He yelled ba response. “So I am the ooo lehat you dare talk back?”
Yvain paled.
“Make it faster!”
BLAAAAAAST!
“GAAAAAAAAAH!!!”
***
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the sky in shades of dramatic red, Yvain y sprawled on the ground, gasping like a fish out of water after the day's grueling physical training.
Burn, ever the keen observer, had finally measured up the young king's prowess—or ck thereof—in mastering the Force art.
“Not bad for a Vision user,” Burn muttered. “Maybe because you’re young.”
It was a se remi of a tragiic py: here y Yvain, in the same defeated pose as when he had trained before trying to force his nobles into magical allegiance.
Well, only that time he was bsting apart outdated mechs with his Vision art.
The grouh Yvain might as well have been a bed of honor, or so his heavy panting suggested.
Burn's training regimen, which could easily be mistaken for a medieval boot camp meets a futuristic torture device, had pushed Yvain to his limits.
The old mechs he used to demolish? Child's py pared to the relentless force of Burn’s "basic exercises."
Indeed, for Yvain, the jouro mastering Force art was looking to be as long and painful as a saga penned by a particurly spiteful scribe, and Burn was just the man to write it.
“When... haa... huff... are you going to... start... training me... in my father’s... Force art?”
Burn raised his eyebrows, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Starting tomorrow, I suppose. Yile, and your stamina isn't half bad—probably a side effect of your previous trainings."
"Really?!" Yvain's eyes widened in surprise. "I actually start tomorrow?!"
"Yes," Burn replied nontly. "You absorb knowledge like a sponge—quickly and effitly. Just keep up with the physical training, and you'll master your Force faster than anyone else."
Yvain was skeptical. Burn wasn’t known for doling out trust or pliments easily. He wondered if this ued praise was just another one of Burn's strategieuvers, ed in a rare pliment to keep him motivated—or perhaps off-guard.
"B-but..." Yvain sat up, suspi creeping into his expression. "How do you know I'll be able to learn my family's Force art? And how did you find out about it, anyway? Did you ever witness my father's abilities firsthand?"
"I have," Burn replied. "It was iing."
Yvain turo face the man who stood against the backdrop of the setting sun. His silhouette was dark, yet his white hair seemed to glow, outshining even the sun itself.
He appeared every bit the regal and formidable figure he was destio be—a man who had risen to bee a great ruler. All his maniputive, cold, and pragmatic traits stemmed from the fact that he truly embodied the qualities of one.
Burn turo Yvain.
"In my youth, I sidered your father the only man who posed a threat to me."
