Torrin followed her instruction. He began with a simple form, his right foot slightly extending forward and his stick held above his head horizontally. His stick whistled through the air like a blade. He flowed into a more complex form and was soon lagging.

His breathing became ragged and his arms felt like lead. He was only half way through his final form, but was unable to finish due to the fatigue his young body felt.

'My forms are incomparably sloppy. I'm not used to moving in this body at all, and I've got no endurance!' Torrin lamented silently.

Grams stood with one hand planted firmly on her cane and the other rubbing her chin as she hmm'd, inspecting Torrin's forms.

"Alright, boy, that's enough. Cycle some mana to clear away your exhaustion." She said, walking towards him.

After cycling mana from the ring for a few minutes, he felt completely refreshed.

"Grams, what are we doing out here?" Torrin asked curiously.

"I told you I was going to train you, no? Tonight we'll work on your sword aura and intent..." She trailed off, looking far in the distance as if her words reminded her of something.

"You know about swords, Grams?" Torrin asked with wide eyes. The old hag seemed to know a little bit of everything, hell even a lot a bit of everything, she was even a Master Artificer and Alchemist.

'Who would think such a simple looking old lady was so diverse and powerful?' Torrin thought, reminding himself not to judge a book by the first page.

Instead of answering, she lifted her cane before her. Silver strands of power slowly enveloped the cane. Torrin took a step back, the power of those strands was intense, they seemed to cut the very air.

Once the energy seemed to solidify around the cane, forming a shining silver blade in her hands, she waved it simply in a direction away from them.

*BOOM*

The silver energy stretched from the cane as she waved it, forming into an arc of moonlight that stretched 10 feet high. When it hit the ground, a large trench was carved for 100 feet.

Torrin stood with his eyes wide in surprise, jaw slack. This was something he'd only seen in his old world, he hadn't tried using sword aura in this world, he hadn't even thought about it.

"Hehehehaha!" Grams cackled wildly seeing his expression, bent double due to her mirth.

"Boy, I've lived for a long time, I know more than just a few tricks. Now let's see your intent, try fusing it with that little stick I gave you. Once you've got that steady, try applying sword aura to your stick--forming it into a blade."

Torrin had trained with a sword for half his life in his other world. He had begun to understand the sword in a way that transcended what normal people could comprehend.

This was the beginning of the Way of the Sword. It was to begin understanding the higher truths of existence. There were many Ways, many truths to be unlocked, but his focus was always the sword.

His sword aura shot forth like a small cloud, much less controlled than when Grams had summoned hers, and wrapped around his stick. The stick was cut into tiny pieces almost instantly. He looked at her cane with his eyes narrowed.

"Sorry, Grams, this stick isn't strong enough to hold the sword aura," Torrin said, a little embarrassed at the display.

"The stick isn't the problem, boy, you have no finesse! You have no fine control over the aura nor have you focused your intent. You can't try infusing a piece of wood with such a wild aura, it's not an actual blade. You must cloak it in the aura, using your intent to define the stick as your blade--as a part of yourself so your aura won't touch it."

Torrin pondered what she'd said, nodding his head as she spoke. In his past life by the time he learned how to use sword aura, he only trained with actual blades, so he had no reason to hone his skills to such a degree. Never really had a chance, either, being murdered so young.

"Okay, Grams, but what is the difference between intent and aura?" He'd been trained by a supposed Master Swordsman since he was young and had never heard these two referred to as different things.

"The difference is that your intent is how you define your application of your understanding of the higher laws--the truths of the universe. The sword aura is the actual manifestation of that intent, it can also be called Sword Energy."

Torrin's head hadn't stopped bobbing up and down since she began speaking. He was truly interested in magic and mana, going so far as to follow her demented experiments, carving trenches in his body with mana to be better later. But swords were definitely a tier above in his eyes. He had always loved swords.

She tossed him another stick, exactly identical to his previous one.

'Where does she keep all of these things? Under that robe of hers?!' He thought, head tilting slightly in puzzlement.

He tried again, this time focusing his intent on the stick.

'This is my sword, it is sharp, honed to a razor's edge. It is an extension of myself. My aura will surround it, leaving the blade alone, only surrounding and protecting it.'

Thoughts were flowing from his mind into his "blade", the stick felt as if it were becoming sharper to his senses. He didn't stop, allowing sword aura to surround the stick but not harm it. The aura came out more like smoke than an entire cloud this time. His control wasn't perfect, so the stick slowly started to chip away as deep cuts appeared along it.

"Much better," Grams praised, nodding her head in approval, "But until you can form that aura into a blade, keep practicing. I'm going to enjoy a cup of tea, let me know when you've succeeded."

She walked back to the hut as Torrin focused on his stick, disappointed that he wasn't able to control the sword energy enough to prevent damage to it.

Soon the entire stick was gone, no longer able to handle the stress of his aura.

He sat down for a moment, looking at the silver moon high in the sky, trying to digest what she had said, trying to parse out any morsel of wisdom that might have been hidden in her words.

He thought back to how she had formed the blade around her cane. Her sword energy was like thin tendrils of water surrounding the cane, solidifying into a blade. His sword energy looked more like a diffuse cloud the first time, and smoke the second time.

'Though her energy was much stronger than mine, it doesn't seem like more is better for what I'm trying to do. Her energy was tightly compacted into something like threads, controlling each one to weave them together later.'

He felt as if he had an epiphany thinking this.

'Now I just need another stick...'

Searching the plain he saw no trees, so he decided to go ask her for another stick. When he turned around, he saw an entire pile of identical sticks laying in front of the door.

His eager expression fell, seeing the sticks. 'She thinks that it would take me this many tries to get control of my sword aura?'

The pile contained at least 100 sticks by his guess. If it was going to take that long, it would definitely be a long night.

Sunlight piercing the horizon broke Torrin's focus. He'd been working on controlling his aura the entire night. He'd already used all of the sticks, each one lasting a little longer than the time before, but he still couldn't hold a steady blade for more than a minute.

Though it was still the consistency of smoke, he could now move it like Grams had, as if they were smoky little tendrils. His control was nowhere near perfect, but he'd improved greatly.

He sat on the ground, hand stretched before him, using his hand as a base for his blade. Since it was his own hand, it was predefined as part of himself without focusing his intent--his sword aura wouldn't harm him unless he intended it to.

Silvery tendrils of smoke slowly coalesced from his hand, threading together slowly and forming a blade. Sweat poured down his head with his eyes squinted in concentration.

'This is my blade. Sharp as any real sword, but far deadlier. With a simple wave of my hand, my blade can cut anything in its path.'

Finishing his mantra, his hand chopped forward. The energy formed a tiny arc smaller than his fist as it shot towards the ground. It carved a shallow mark along the ground for a few feet before dissipating.

"Good, good, boy. You've improved greatly in just one night. I am truly impressed by your talent with the sword, boy, and that's no easy feat--impressing me, that is."

A crackly voice rang out behind him followed by a piercing cackle, causing him to jump to his feet in surprise.

"Grams! Would it kill you to announce yourself before scaring your poor apprentice to death?" Torrin's heart was pounding in his chest. He'd been so lost in his practice that he hadn't heard her come out of the hut.

He turned and saw her sitting in her plush chair, drinking a cup of tea. His brows scrunched together, wondering how she'd gotten the massive chair through the tiny door of the hut.

"No matter, boy, let's get you some breakfast and some rest before we start on your rune lessons."

She quickly rose from her chair and it disappeared as if it had only ever been an illusion.

"Well, boy? Come on, we don't have all day!" She exclaimed, seeing his shocked expression and frozen body.

Torrin had seen her make things vanish and appear many times now, but it still left him dumbfounded. In his old world rich people would often have dimensional rings that contained an area about the size of a small closet.

His surprise wasn't even due to the size of her chair. It might almost be better described as a small couch; The thing was huge.

But even that chair might fit in the most high end dimensional ring. He was surprised because the only jewelry he'd ever seen her wear was the ring she'd given him, so he didn't know where she was storing the items.

She finally rolled her eyes at his slack jawed expression saying, "I keep all my stuff in my pocket dimension."

"Pocket dimension? Like with an artifact? We had dimensional rings in my old world, do you use something like that?"

"Pfft, no, boy! I've told you many times now but you don't seem to listen. I'm a very old lady with many tricks. Many things are understood by this here old lady. Space is just one of them." She said haughtily with a massive grin plastered on her old face.

'Understanding space?! What is she going on about?' Torrin thought, confused by her explanation.

Seeing his brows crease in thought, she just waved her hand and he began floating behind her as she walked in the hut.

The expansive inside of the hut compared to its outside reminded him that yes, she really must have some understanding of space. The inside of the hut was several times greater than its outward facade.

All throughout breakfast he continued pondering her understanding of space, wondering how she could learn such a thing and whether or not he'd ever be able to do anything like that.

"Boy, your face is going to be stuck like that if you keep thinking any longer. I'll make a deal with you, if you're able to complete my training, that is."

Torrin perked up and returned to the moment hearing her words, all his attention focused on her. His eyes were wide like a puppy dog looking for a treat.

"Bahahaha! Boy, your training has just begun. It's a long and hard road ahead of you, but if you can learn what I have to teach, a little storage dimension will be the least impressive thing you learn from me." She laughed boisterously before boasting once more, her eyes showing that manic gleam that always sent a chill down his spine.

Although he was worried by her expression, he took her words and stored them away.

"Thank you, Grams." He said respectfully, giving her a nod of acknowledgment before walking to the bed to process the mana from their meal.

Hours later he was back to his usual training. He analyzed the runes he'd need for his core, followed by intensive mana practice. The finesse he'd need to carve the runes into his inert core was almost beyond belief, but he actually began making astounding progress on this day.

The work with his sword aura had helped him understand a finer sense of control and he was able to adapt that to his mana work. The mana was much more pure and powerful than his sword aura, so even without using what Grams called Mana Sight, he could still see the threads of mana that he was weaving together before him.

"Oho! Look at that, boy! You really are impressing this old lady, now. It seems our little sword exercise had given you a bit of insight into control." Grams spoke excitedly, making a smile tug at Torrin's lips.

"Thanks. What you showed me last night really opened my eyes to the importance of control, I can almost feel the mana as if it were a part of me."

His practice continued until Grams stated that it was time to carve his left arm channels now. He dreaded his fate, but couldn't argue with her. As he lay on the ground in the center of the main room of the hut, he moved the ring to his left hand so that it would be less travel time getting the mana in and out.

After what seemed like years of excruciating torture, he was able to finish carving the channels of his left arm. His control was much greater than before, so he was even able to carve all the way to his inert core.

Another potion. Another spell. His shattered mind the only thing remaining of his torment. He lay curled in the fetal position, slowly rocking back and forth.

'Dad... Mom... Little Terrin... I hope you're okay...' He had put up a mental barrier to prevent himself from remembering his family, but the pathway carving had left his mind in tatters once more, and tears began streaming down his face as he thought of them.

A week slowly passed like this, a cycle of training and torment. His control over sword aura and mana had improved to such a degree that he'd reached the second stage of Way of the Sword, he could now turn an ordinary stick into a solid blade for an hour. But today's task was different and would be a huge achievement... If he didn't die.

He currently lay on the floor, breathing deeply. His mind would no longer shatter from the indescribable pain of carving his pathways. He didn't know if that was a good thing, being so accustomed to pain.

But today was different, he had finished all of his pathways except one. He'd connected his entire body to his inert core through the new pathways, his bones and flesh, his organs. These things were already connected by the old pathways, but now they looked like they had spiderwebs covering them, the extent of the change was night and day compared to his old pathways.

Now his task was simple. Connect his entire head to his pathways. He'd only gone as far as his neck and now had to finish Grams' grand design. He needed better pathways for his mouth, nose, eyes, and brain.

Torrin breathed out heavily, "Grams... Surely my brain doesn't need to be carved apart by mana, right? That doesn't sound very safe..." He tried getting out of it, but knew it was in vain seeing her stern expression.

He sighed.

"Fine, fine... Let's get on with this," He said, reaching out his hand for her to hand him the new leather strap that he'd bite down on to prevent him from biting his own tongue off during the process.

He allowed mana to flow through his new pathways, it shot around like a comet in the sky, flowing into every part of his being. He slowly rotated the strands of mana, compressing them together into an even finer strand.

Once he had the strand that he was going to use, he began to rotate it, giving it a drilling force.

He breathed out through his nose one last time and inhaled sharply as he began carving the first channels in his neck, leading toward his mouth. He didn't stop, the image of Grams' design firmly planted in his mind overlaying his current network.

He worked quickly, not daring to stop for fear of never trying again. He kept his control firm, not willing to damage his pathways by letting the mana spiral out of control.

Minutes passed, and his entire head felt as if he had inhaled fire.

Sweat poured from his face and blood trickled from his mouth, nose, and eyes. The bloody tears a symbol of his completion of his eye pathways.

The final stretch was before him, all he had to do was complete his brain connection, but fear was preventing him from taking this last step.

"Now, Torrin! Don't lose control, you must finish now!"

The old crone's voice rang directly into his soul and he pushed forward.

An ice pick straight to his brain.

He shuddered, biting through his leather strap completely. Every muscle in his body was taught as a bow string, straining to the point that his bones began to creak ominously.

His strand of mana was connecting parts of his brain directly to his mana pathway and he could feel his teeth grinding together as he finished with the last section.

Darkness was beginning to set in, his threads of mana almost coming undone.

"Torrin! NOW!" The voice sounded desperate.

He pushed on, the voice like a bucket of ice water to his senses. He finished his final connection and allowed the mana to slow its rotation, pulling it back through these new scorched pathways and down into his ring.

He breathed a sigh of relief and knew no more.