ɪɴꜰɪɴɪᴛᴇ ᴠᴀʟᴏʀ: ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴇʀᴏ'ꜱ ᴛᴀʟᴇ

ɴɪɴᴇ - ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ ʟᴇᴏ'ꜱ ꜱᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴛʀᴀɪɴɪɴɢ

-6 MONTHS LATER-
-ICY TRAINING GROUND-

Leo’s journey to control his snow power was far from easy. When he first began his training with Cavalry Commander Aurora, he had little more than raw potential—an immense power inside him, untamed and dangerous. The icy winds of the Glacialia Kingdom mirrored the turbulence within him. For weeks, he struggled with even the simplest exercises, unable to command his abilities at will.

The training began with the basics. Aurora, a seasoned warrior with her own hidden abilities, stood in front of Leo each day, her gaze unwavering. “Before you can master your snow power,” she would tell him, “you must master your mind and body. The sword is your first lesson in control.”

Each morning, they would practice swordsmanship, not just to build Leo’s combat skills, but to teach him discipline. The training ground was a frozen expanse, surrounded by towering ice walls that seemed to loom as constant reminders of the strength he had yet to unlock.

In the beginning, Leo was all force and frustration. His sword strikes were powerful, but unfocused. His snow power would flare up unpredictably, causing gusts of wind or sharp bursts of ice to form in response to his emotions. Aurora was there each time, blocking his wild attacks with ease, her movements measured and calm.

"Focus, Leo," she would say, stepping aside as another gust of snow whirled uncontrollably from him. "Your power isn’t just a weapon—it’s part of you. Until you accept that, you will never control it."

For months, this pattern continued. Leo would practice his swordsmanship, each swing a battle not just with Aurora but with himself. His frustration mounted with each failure, but Aurora remained patient, never showing more than mild approval when he made progress, and never scolding him when he faltered.

One day, after what felt like an endless cycle of training and mistakes, Aurora decided to take a different approach. She unsheathed her own sword, its blade gleaming with a faint, bluish light—an indication of her own power, though she seldom used it in training.

“You need to understand how power flows,” she said, stepping forward to demonstrate. As she swung her sword, a thin layer of ice formed in the wake of the blade, delicate but precise, shimmering in the air before vanishing into the snow beneath her feet. “Control is not about force; it’s about balance. Watch.”

She repeated the movement, slower this time, allowing Leo to see how her power intertwined with her technique. The ice followed her command effortlessly, shaped by her will, not her strength.

“Try again,” she instructed, stepping back.

Leo took a deep breath and raised his sword. He attempted to mimic her calm, steady movement. As his blade sliced through the air, a few snowflakes gathered around the tip, but they scattered quickly, dissolving into the wind.

“Better,” Aurora said, though her tone was firm. “But you’re still thinking of your power as separate. It is not something you wield—it’s something you are.”

Weeks passed, and Leo’s frustration gave way to understanding. Slowly, through endless repetition, he began to internalize Aurora’s lessons. He learned to keep his emotions in check, to let the cold that coursed through him become an ally, not an enemy. His sword strikes grew smoother, and with each day, the bursts of uncontrolled snow and ice became less frequent.

Aurora continued to guide him, using her own power sparingly but effectively to demonstrate what mastery looked like. “When you strike,” she would say, her sword carving another perfect arc through the air, “you must already know the outcome. Your power will respond to your intent.”