39

The Witcher: The last King of the elves

Chapter 39 – Sword Training

Continent, Northern Lands, Elven Empire, deep within the Black Forest.

Beyond the trees stood an adult figure with long golden hair, eyes closed, and in his right hand a sword resting on his legs.

He was sitting on the ground upon stone steps leading up to the castle that was currently being rebuilt. His chest rose and fell while white streams of air came out with each breath, lasting for an hour and a half.

“I don’t know what’s coming, but surely none of this will be as easy as before, and I must not ignore anything that could arise. I will be fine as long as I stay strong.” Thranduil, who was the figure training his breathing method, thought with strong determination never to underestimate his enemies.

The cold northern wind blew, mixed with snowflakes, and struck Thranduil’s body.

He practiced the breathing method in a climate of minus 30 degrees Celsius.

Although it was very painful and seemed like self-inflicted wounds, Thranduil still did not stop practicing. The breathing method he was training not only increased his magical power, but also gave him total control over its use, taking advantage of every drop of magic in his body.

This is why he had mistakenly thought that his magical power had increased, when in fact it hadn’t. What was happening was that he was manipulating it in a perfect flow that gave him total control over every part of his magic.

From today on, every night and part of the morning, Thranduil would practice this breathing method. He had to accustom his body to it so he could also keep his magical power hidden from others.

In this world, magic was not exclusive to a certain group of people; everyone could access it with proper training.

That is why he would push himself harder, train much more intensely, and never relax even though his strength was increasing on its own.

Training in this way would make him stronger.

Especially in the coldest month of winter— the colder the climate, the more suitable it was for the breathing method that manipulated magic and transformed it according to a control method he had found in these ruins.

After completing the breathing method practice, Thranduil held his sword. According to his father, it would not be enough to be powerful in magic; he also had to be strong in swordsmanship.

Swish! Swish! Swish!

The sword in Thranduil’s hands simulated a raw technique, emitting a sharp sound as it cut the air, easily splitting a large log of wood that was in the distance. Manipulating a single longsword, Thranduil’s whole body was pushed to the limit, his muscles began to burn, and part of his magical power began to move through each of his limbs at great speed.

Thranduil took a deep breath and quickly wiped the sweat from his body. In his mind, he pictured that magic spell he had been memorizing earlier.

Knowing he could now become stronger and stronger, Thranduil believed that continuing to practice would make him more worthy of his power.

“Calm yourself, hide, and work in silence…” Knowing all that he could achieve in the future, Thranduil thought to himself.

He had spent much time trying to evolve his magic, and through pain, he had now been able to create a variation of fire.

Today he finally believed he had achieved many notable changes, realizing at the same time that the natural flow of his training had also improved greatly.

According to Thranduil’s estimation, with a month of training he could become much stronger— to the point of being able to lift a weight of 300 kilograms. Based solely on his strength attribute, he was stronger than many, considering he was not even close to reaching his limit.

He was just beginning. It was only a matter of time and effort before he became stronger.

…

“At last, it’s here!” That night, Thranduil was standing on the walls of the territory.

Following his gaze, the distant sky was dark. Dense black clouds were quickly approaching like a tsunami.

The light in this part of the forest was being devoured rapidly. One could vaguely see a massive moon slowly rising into the sky behind the dark clouds.

That moon was as red as blood!

It was also at this moment that an aura appeared in the air that made Thranduil feel very uneasy and even caused his calm heart to stir slightly. “Transmit my order: all elven teams outside must return to the territory!”

“As you command, Your Majesty the Great Elven King!”