Timeless Assassin - Chapter 835

Chapter 835: The Next Generation
(Meanwhile on Ixtal, Soron’s POV)

Staying true to his promise, Soron re-invited Amanda and the children back to the stone castle a couple of days after their first meeting, as this time he went one step further than simple hospitality and decided to initiate little Caleb and young Mairon into the very first foundations of what it meant to walk the path of a warrior, for although they were only five and three years old, he believed that lessons planted young had a way of taking root far deeper than anything learned later in life.

The training ground was spacious and open, the stone floor polished smooth by centuries of footsteps, as sunlight filtered through the tall walls in warm streaks, while Soron placed a simple wooden table in front of the children, setting a bright red apple at its center.

Both boys sat cross-legged on the floor, Caleb sitting upright like a tiny scholar while Mairon leaned slightly to the side with one cheek puffed adorably, as though the seriousness of sitting still for more than two seconds already strained the limits of his patience.

“Today we learn something important,” Soron said, his voice soft and steady as he knelt beside them, his presence warm enough to calm even the fidgety Mairon who instantly straightened his back with a proud little grin.

“A warrior is not someone who swings wildly, nor someone who depends on strength alone. A warrior is someone who understands how a strike works, how force behaves, and how to use it correctly.”

Soron began, as Caleb nodded far too seriously for his age, his tiny hands folded in his lap, while Mairon copied him an instant later but tilted his head so dramatically that he looked like a confused duckling.

Soron smiled gently before placing two large blunt sticks in front of them.

“To begin, poke a hole through this apple using these,” Soron said, as both boys grabbed a stick each with the excitement of children receiving their favorite toys.

Caleb positioned himself with exaggerated determination, narrowing his eyes as though preparing for a world ending mission, while Mairon held the stick upside down and poked his own knee by mistake, flinching and letting out a tiny “Ow…” that made Soron stifle a laugh.

“Try,” Soron encouraged, as Caleb struck the apple first, the stick bouncing harmlessly off the smooth skin, as he tried again and again with increasing confusion while the apple remained unbothered, as though mocking him with its shiny red surface.

Mairon followed a moment later, thumping the blunt stick against the apple with all the force his three year old arms could muster, yet achieving nothing except pushing the fruit an inch across the table.

After a dozen failed attempts on both sides, Caleb frowned and shook his head in defeat, while Mairon simply placed his stick on top of the apple as though hoping that it would do something magical, while Soron nodded patiently.

“Good. You tried,” he said as he withdrew the blunt sticks and placed two sharp pointed sticks before them.

“Now try again.”

He instructed, as Caleb immediately perked up, gripping the pointed stick with far too much enthusiasm, as he jabbed downward and pierced the apple’s skin with a soft *pop* of triumph, his entire face lighting up brilliantly.

“I did it,” Caleb said, showing Soron the stick as though it were some sacred treasure, while Soron nodded warmly.

Mairon jabbed next, missing twice, hitting the table once, then finally piercing the apple on the fourth try, as he instantly gasped in excitement as though he had just conquered a kingdom.

“See see, look look,” Mairon said, bouncing where he sat as he pointed wildly at the tiny hole.

As Soron placed a gentle hand on his head and smiled.

“Well done, both of you,” Soron said, before placing the last tool on the table, a pin sized needle glinting softly in the light.

“Now use this.”

He instructed, as Caleb blinked in surprise, then picked the needle carefully and pressed it into the apple with minimal effort, the needle slicing through the skin like it was nothing.

Mairon mimicked him immediately, giggling happily when the needle sank in so effortlessly that he almost overbalanced in excitement.

Soron watched them for a moment, seeing the pride in their small faces, before asking softly, “Of the three tools, which was the easiest to use?”

Both boys instantly held up the needle with the same naive confidence only children possessed, Caleb doing so with perfect posture while Mairon held it slightly backward with the sharp end dangerously close to his cheek.

As Soron corrected Mairon’s grip gently before continuing.

“That is correct,” Soron said, folding his hands behind his back while his voice softened even more. “When you grow up to become strong warriors, always remember this lesson. It is not important how much strength you apply behind your strike, nor how powerful your arms grow, but how small the area of impact is where your strength lands.”

The words were simple, soft, almost playful, yet they carried with them a wisdom that could guide a lifetime.

“My father taught me this lesson when I was three and my brother was five…..

As back then he said–”

“Soron, You do not need to be the strongest…..”

Soron recounted as he walked toward a rack and fetched two small wooden daggers sized perfectly for the children’s hands.

“You do not need to be the fastest. You do not need to be the most gifted. You only need to be technical. For what matters at the start is having the correct fundamentals. And everything begins with learning to strike correctly.”

He finished, as he placed the wooden daggers in their hands.

Caleb held his weapon like a budding Assassin, his expression serious, while Mairon waved his in the air like an excited puppy trying to swat a butterfly.

“Ha–”

“HIYA!”

Mairon voiced, as Soron brought a small training dummy forward, barely taller than the boys, and tapped its chest.

“Even you, with the force of a child, can slice this dummy cleanly,” Soron said, his voice gentle and encouraging, “if you learn how to concentrate your entire strength onto one single point.”

He guided, as both children stared blankly, their expressions adorably clueless as they tried to make sense of the complex idea.

Mairon pouted in confusion while Caleb nodded despite clearly not understanding anything.

Soron chuckled softly and continued anyway, as he knew full well that neither of them truly grasped the lesson today, yet he also knew that seeds planted in young minds had a way of resurfacing when needed, even years and years later.

Which was the true purpose of this lesson today.

As although he knew very well that neither Caleb nor Mairon were going to follow the path of a proper warrior so early.

However, this was a lesson to guide their fundamentals whenever they did begin.

“You may not understand now,” Soron said, placing a reassuring hand on both of their shoulders as the boys leaned into him naturally, “but one day, perhaps a decade from now, when you hold a real blade in your hands and face your first true challenge, you will remember a fragment of this conversation, or maybe even just the feeling of this moment, and it will guide you on the path ahead.”

He blessed, as Caleb smiled faintly, his young heart sensing the warmth in the words if not the meaning.

While Mairon looked up at Soron with wide, trusting eyes, then lifted his wooden dagger and whispered, “I will poke the bad ones.”

Which immediately made Soron chuckle and ruffle his hair.

“Yes,” Soron approved, “one day you will.”