I woke up in the morning feeling refreshed and fully recovered, without a trace of mana exhaustion. My mana was full, and my body brimmed with vitality.
A heavy sigh.
"It feels so good to have a healthy body again."
I got out of bed and checked on Berus. I could tell he was very different from a week ago; his fur was no longer unkempt or falling out, and it had almost regained its color and shape.
He was still skin and bones, but his appetite was good. I did not know what virus or bacteria his body was fighting, but I hoped it was something his immune system could overcome.
Casting the healing spell once a week seemed to be enough. When I cast it for the second time, I could now sense traces of mana in his body and see that it was still having an effect.
For now, I had nothing but guesses about why this had happened, but my near-death experience had improved both my mana and my body. I currently had 75 mana, 3.4 strength, and 3.6 speed. With buffs, I could raise my strength and speed to 4.2 and 4.4.
If I were to offer a hypothesis, when I tried to cast a level-three spell while still a level-two Druid, more mana entered my body than I could control, nearly killing me. But because I survived instead of dying, that excess mana caused my body and mana capacity to grow.
I knew perfectly well that I had only been lucky this time. This method could not be used for training, because it meant tossing a coin between life and death every time. If I tried to train this way, the odds of dying were far greater than the odds of surviving.
The day of my spar with Wayland had arrived. I could defeat him again because I was stronger than last time, but I had some doubts about Wayland's physical abilities.
In our previous fight, the highest stats he had used were 3.5 strength and 3.3 speed, but Identification was not completely reliable.
I felt he had not had many chances to truly display his full abilities in our last fight. Yes, he had not underestimated me during the fight, but that did not mean he had used all his strength, so I should not be overconfident.
So I decided to bring my sword, dagger, and throwing knives. I had just fastened everything to my belt and was about to head for the door when I heard familiar voices in the hallway. When I opened the door, all the Stark children were standing before me, and Robb raised a hand in greeting.
"Hello. Arya and Bran are very curious about the puppy, so we thought we'd come take a look. They've been curious for days."
Arya pushed Robb aside, stepped up to me, and asked with both curiosity and unease.
"Aermir, how's the puppy? He's better now, isn't he? He'll be all right now, won't he?"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down, Arya. You've asked a thousand and one questions in a second. Calm down."
I patted her shoulder to calm her, then continued.
"Let's answer your questions one at a time. The puppy is much better than he was a week ago. I can say he's started to improve, but he's still sick, and we don't know whether he can beat this illness. Only time will tell, but I've done my best."
Arya and Bran were happy to hear that the puppy was improving, but hearing that he might still be ill made them a little nervous and unhappy. When I saw their unhappiness, I immediately continued.
"He's much better now, and he even got up and walked around today. Would you like to come in and play with him? But if he doesn't want to move, don't force him. If he doesn't want to play, it means he's tired and needs a good rest. You understand that, right?"
They nodded excitedly and quickly rushed into the room. My room was small, and with six people inside, it felt a little crowded, even though we were all children.
Sansa sat in the chair by the table, watching the puppy intently. Robb, Jon, and I sat on the bed, watching Arya and Bran play with him on the floor. Robb turned to me and glanced at the sword hanging from my belt.
"Are you going to practice?"
"More or less. I promised to spar with a squire today."
Jon asked, "Do we know the person you're fighting?"
"Even if you don't know him, you've probably heard of him. I'm fighting Waylan Flint, Manderly Flint's eldest son."
Their eyes widened at once, and Jon began speaking excitedly, with a hint of nervousness.
"Isn't he about fifteen? Why are you fighting someone that much older?"
"Actually, he's fourteen, and I've already fought him once before. I even beat him. This will be his revenge match."
Both of them stood up excitedly, and Robb said,
"Are you sure you're only nine? What kind of nine-year-old can beat a fourteen-year-old? You don't look nine, either."
He was right. The average nine-year-old boy in the North was 1.3 meters tall, while I was 1.5 meters tall. He and Jon were both ten and stood 1.45 meters tall. Although they were a year older than me, they were five centimeters shorter.
"Let's go watch. It might be a great match," Arya said. I did not know when she had come over to us or how long she had been listening, but she insisted that Robb go watch the match with her. Unable to refuse, Robb had to agree.
We left my room and started down the hallway, but I noticed Sansa beginning to fall behind. I could tell from her face that she was hesitating over whether to come with us.
"Sansa, what's wrong? Is there a problem?"
"I don't think I should go with you."
"Why not?"
"A lady shouldn't go to places like the training yard." This was Septa Mordane and Lady Catelyn talking.
"Why do you think that?"
"Septa Mordane says places like that aren't suitable for a lady. Only savage and brutal women go to such places." I let out a deep sigh. It was just as I had thought.
"I heard other knights in the training yard talking about a lady named Maege Mormont. She's a member of House Mormont and one of the greatest warriors in the North. Many people have tasted defeat and death beneath her great hammer. Do you think Lady Maege Mormont is savage and brutal?"
"I don't know, but the septa says we shouldn't go against the teachings of the Seven or behave like tree-worshipping wildlings."
"Sansa, do we live in the south? Do you think Lord Stark, your siblings, and I are tree-worshipping wildlings?"
"Lady Catelyn may follow the Seven, but you must remember that you're a northern lady, and your father is the lord of the North. Yes, northern women may not be knighted, but that doesn't mean they can't be warriors. There's only one person who can tell you what you can and cannot do, and that person is your father, not Septa Mordane. If you want to come with us today, I hope you'll forget what Septa Mordane said and listen to your own heart. When you see your father, I hope you'll tell him what Septa Mordane said about the Old Gods."
After our conversation, she decided to come with us, and I smiled when I heard her answer. There was still hope for her.
Since today's fight would use blunted steel swords, we wore full armor as usual.
I had grown used to the weight of my armor by now. It used to slow me down considerably and hamper my movements, but a year of fighting in armor had allowed me to adapt completely.
We were both in the arena, watching each other closely, but Wayland was different today. He showed none of his usual arrogance. He did not even open his mouth as we faced each other.
I held my sword higher than usual, leaving an opening around my lower body, but Wayland did not take the bait.
So I launched the first attack, feinting a high vertical cut before angling it to the left at the last moment, attacking the left side of his body instead of his head. But the attack failed. He suddenly positioned his sword and blocked me, but I drew my sword back without hesitation and tried to thrust at his chest.
He was faster than I had expected, slipping past my sword and inside my guard before headbutting me.
The sudden blow stunned me. My nose hurt like hell, and I lost my balance, falling backward. At that moment, he raised his sword and made a diagonal cut at my right side. I still could not regain my balance, but I saw the attack and rolled left, putting distance between us.
I had suspected it, but I was the one who had not taken this fight seriously. He really had not used his full strength last time. He was now displaying 4.5 strength and 4.3 speed, and I had started the fight without buffing myself like an idiot.
"Volhen gryves (Aspect of the Bear), Volhen Keli (Aspect of the Cat)."
The buffs took effect immediately, and I felt strength fill my body. Even with the buffs, however, I was still slightly weaker than him, though a little faster. I had 4.2 strength and 4.4 speed. I no longer underestimated him and focused completely on the fight.
I took a quick step forward, feinting a diagonal attack from the left, but at the last moment, I swung my sword overhead and attacked diagonally from the right.
When Wayland realized he could not swing his sword in time, he chose to retreat instead of blocking. My sword scraped across his steel armor with a shrill screech, leaving a large scratch and a slight dent from his left shoulder to his chest.
He also knew he could not retreat in time, but that was why he wore armor. He knew he would be all right and that his armor would protect him.
This time, he attacked, charging toward me, but because I was faster, I stepped back and placed my sword in his path. If he did not stop, he would run into my sword.
This was the opportunity he had been waiting for. He quickly drew his sword back and swung it hard to one side. As it struck my sword, he tried to force me back a step, as though he were about to break through my guard again, but I no longer underestimated him and could predict his movements to some extent.
If he wanted to get inside my guard and grapple, he would not draw his sword back. The fact that he had done so meant he was preparing another attack, and from that position, he could only attack my legs. If I stepped back, my left leg would turn and be unable to defend. I pretended to fall into his trap, feigning a backward movement with my right foot, but when he began swinging his sword, I jumped back with my left leg while swinging my sword at his head with all my strength using my left hand.
My swing did not carry much force as I jumped backward, but because it was an attack that would strike his head, even the strength of my arm alone would cause considerable damage.
By the time Wayland realized his trap had failed, it was too late. He could either take the blow to his head or sacrifice his arm. Naturally, he chose the latter. Just as my sword was about to strike his head, he thrust out his arm and absorbed the full impact.
But he would not come away empty-handed. He used his right hand to defend against the blow while switching his sword to his left, trying to attack my right side. I had already anticipated this, however, and drew the dagger from my waist, using it as a shield to block his attack.
This was a dagger I had commissioned from Mikken, with one sharp edge and one blunt edge. It had a long, narrow blade and a U-shaped guard.
Thanks to that guard, I could trap an opponent's sword between the blade and guard with just a slight twist of my wrist. That was why it was useful for defense, but I could not use this dagger all the time, because using it meant holding my sword in one hand, which meant losing a great deal of power when attacking.
My attack might not have been completely successful, but from the state of his right hand, I could tell he would not be able to use it in this fight, and his sword was now under my control as well. Before he could fully understand what had happened, I quickly slid the dagger in my hand along his sword. At the same time, I loosened my grip on my sword slightly, reversed it, and slammed the hilt into his face.
I did not want to injure Wayland permanently, so I struck the right side of his helmet. His head swayed badly from the blow, and he fell to his knees. The strike might have caused a mild concussion. I placed my sword against his neck.
"This fight is over." After I spoke, there was dead silence, and then Arya and Bran began cheering. Once their loud voices broke the silence, everyone began discussing and arguing about the fight.
I offered Wayland my hand. He glared at me a little, but after a heavy sigh, he took it. Then I pulled him up and helped him stand.
His taking my hand in front of everyone at that moment meant two things;
First, he acknowledged my superiority. Second, there was no longer any enmity between us, and we were at peace.
Of course, that did not mean I could trust him completely, but as far as I knew, Wayland was either a simple fellow or an Oscar-worthy actor. What I felt from this fight, however, was that Wayland cared about nothing but the sword.
Thanks to my 5x Skill, my understanding of the sword deepened every day. It would not be a lie to say that I had nearly fifteen years of experience because of this skill. This fight gave me a deeper understanding of Wayland. In my eyes, every strike, every block, and every step represented thousands of hours of training.