Years slipped away in Frostwood, turning Grey from an eager apprentice into a skilled teen. The air hummed with magic as we readied for our last sword spar.
"Your moves have a new vibe, Grey," I noted as we clashed swords.
"Thanks, Master. Watch this one!" Grey spun, unleashing a flurry of strikes that left me impressed.
"Getting fancy, huh? Just remember, purpose over complexity," I advised.
We continued, the dance evolving. Grey's unpredictability grew, and I acknowledged, "Nice move, adding a bit of surprise."
As our spar intensified, complexity became our language. Each clash spoke of years of growth and refinement. Amidst our dance, Grey paused, sword in hand.
"Master, tomorrow is the day I will start to learn astrum," Grey said with a mix of excitement and gratitude.
I nodded. "Indeed, Grey. But for now, let's enjoy the artistry of the blade."
Our final exchange approached, and with a swift maneuver, I gained the upper hand. The clash of steel echoed, and I disarmed Grey with a grin.
"Looks like I take this one, Grey," I said. But rather than disappointment, Grey's eyes held respect.
At that moment, I reached behind a nearby tree and retrieved a sleek black cane. "This is for you, Grey," I said, handing it to him. "Consider it an inheritance. But vow to use it only in truly dangerous situations."
Grey accepted the cane, confusion in his eyes. "A sword in the guise of a cane?"
I nodded. "Indeed. Vow to wield it when danger is imminent, and it will serve you well."
Grey, with a solemn expression, vowed to use the black cane only in dire circumstances. The moon above witnessed this exchange as we concluded our last spar in Frostwood, embracing the transition into the mysteries of Astrum, and the unspoken bond of the black cane, now both a weapon and a promise.