The morning cold bit sharper than usual.
Darwin felt it instantly as he stepped out of Gajisk's cabin, the frost stinging his cheeks like tiny needles. His muscles were still recovering from yesterday's brutal footwork attempts—thighs aching, shoulders sore, and his left wrist swollen from gripping the wooden practice sword for too long.
But today wasn't a sword day.
It was something far worse.
Something Gajisk called—
**Forge Breathing.**
A technique not meant for swordsmen or mages,
but for people who needed their bodies rebuilt from the inside.
Darwin.
"Sit," Gajisk said, tapping the snow-cleared stump in the clearing.
Darwin obeyed, lowering himself carefully, the cold seeping through his clothes and touching the heat of his skin.
Gajisk stood before him, arms crossed.
"You want your sword style to work? Then your body must change first."
Darwin nodded silently.
"You're missing an arm. Your balance is broken. Your stamina drains too fast. If you keep swinging that sword like you did yesterday, you'll collapse halfway through a real fight."
Darwin's jaw tightened, shame pricking his stomach.
Gajisk continued, voice firm and sharp:
"So today, we begin strengthening you from the inside out."
He placed a hand over Darwin's sternum.
"Forge Breathing is not magic. It's not aura. It's not some fancy swordsman trick."
He tapped Darwin's chest again.
"It is control. Of breath. Of air. Of your body."
Darwin inhaled quietly.
Gajisk raised a thick finger.
"Listen well. Forge Breathing has four stages."
He extended one finger at a time:
**1. Iron Tempering**
"Your body adapts to controlled air flow. Muscles harden, joints stabilize, and your stamina increases."
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
**2. Steel Forging**
"Your control deepens. Breaths circulate evenly. Your movements become smoother, heavier, and more grounded."
**3. Adamant Body**
"The breath cyclone inside you becomes dense. Your strikes carry weight beyond normal human strength. Bones strengthen."
**4. Everbane Body**
"The breath ceases to be breath. It becomes a force that wraps your muscles, amplifies them. This is a stage very few reach."
He lowered his hand slowly.
"This technique saved my life when I was your age. It might save yours."
Darwin straightened instinctively.
"What do I do?"
Gajisk smirked.
"You breathe."
---
**. The First Attempt**
Darwin closed his eyes, steadying his trembling fingers.
Gajisk placed a hand on Darwin's back.
"Inhale through the nose. Slow. Deep. Pull it down… lower… lower… not your chest—your stomach."
Darwin tried.
A cold rush filled his lungs, but it stayed too high, stuck in his ribs. His breath quivered, hitching halfway.
"Again."
He tried.
The air entered cleaner this time, sliding down into his belly but dispersing too quickly.
"Wrong. Don't scatter it. Focus it."
Darwin clenched his teeth and tried again.
This time the cold air settled lower—like a small knot beneath his ribs.
Gajisk nodded.
"Good. Hold it."
Darwin held.
Five seconds.
Eight.
Ten—
His body spasmed, a shock shooting up his throat as his lungs panicked.
He coughed violently.
Air burst out of him in a messy gasp.
Gajisk clicked his tongue.
"Iron Tempering is about control. If your body panics, you fail."
Darwin wiped his mouth and reset his posture.
He tried again.
And again.
And again.
Each time, the cold air sank a little deeper, swirling faintly before slipping away.
But slowly—painfully slowly—
a pattern formed.
A tiny cyclone of breath began to spin just behind his navel, cold and sharp.
His body trembled against it.
His lips grew numb.
His fingers tingled from lack of oxygen.
But…
It was working.
---
After nearly an hour, Darwin's breaths became heavier, steam rising visibly with every exhale. His body shivered from the cold air circulating through him, but his core felt different.
Fuller.
Tighter.
Like a furnace heating from inside out.
Gajisk watched silently, eyes sharp.
Darwin inhaled slow—
—and the air spiraled down, forming a tiny vortex inside him.
He held it.
Not long.
Not perfectly.
But he held it.
The snow around his feet shifted as his body heat spiked for a moment.
Gajisk nodded with rare approval.
"You've begun Iron Tempering."
Darwin exhaled shakily.
His body hurt. His lungs burned. His head pulsed.
But a faint, deep warmth stayed inside him.
A warmth he hadn't felt before.
It wasn't mana.
It was his body responding.
Slowly waking up.
---
Darwin opened his eyes, the clearing blurry from mental strain.
Gajisk stood before him, placing a thick blanket over his shoulders.
"That was enough for a first day. Don't push further."
Darwin ignored the blanket's warmth and looked at his trembling hands.
"So this will… strengthen me?"
"It will make your body worthy of your own sword style."
Darwin lowered his gaze.
He remembered yesterday's failed attempts at a perfect slash.
He remembered collapsing.
He remembered his frustration.
His weakness.
If this breathing could fix even a fraction of that…
He needed it.
Gajisk huffed quietly, seeing his resolve.
"You're forging both your body and your sword style from scratch. No teacher. No guide. No structure."
The old blacksmith smirked.
"That path isn't for normal men."
Darwin met his gaze.
"I'm not normal."
Gajisk chuckled.
"No, you're not."
He placed a hand over Darwin's shoulder.
"Now rest. Tomorrow we refine both—your stance and your breathing."
Darwin nodded, exhaustion finally washing over him.
He glanced once at his sword resting in the snow.
Soon.
Soon the slash he wanted would come.
Soon his style would take form.
Soon his body would match his will.
For now… he let the warm cyclone inside his abdomen whirl quietly.
Steady.
Precise.
Growing.
