Apollo’s brain was beginning to have difficulty in thinking logically. Sometimes the world felt like it was spinning even though he was standing perfectly still.

It was harder for him to understand his own swings. His bokken flew around him while the red tassel danced in the chaos.

Apollo’s mind was becoming increasingly muddled. It simply hurt too much.

Eventually, he couldn’t take it and began screaming.

His screams echoed in the room and cleared his head, if only slightly.

Apollo continued screaming, but as time went on, it was losing effectiveness.

Soon, no matter how much Apollo screamed, it wouldn’t make a difference.

Apollo diverted a stab with the tip of his wooden sword, making it miss his body by a hair. As he continued blocking, a vision appeared in his head.

He was with his mother. He was a baby and in his hands was a small wooden sword.

His mother kept both of her hands clasped around his own and moved the sword around with little jumps.

He saw that his mother had a big smile on her face and he was laughing.

A chuckle escaped his lips as the blood left his body.

When he awoke again, a soft laugh seeped through his lips.

His head cleared ever so slightly.

He picked up the bokken while trembling with soft laughter.

He blocked the stabs from the knife with a wide smile on his face.

Once the knife pierced Apollo’s chest he simply cackled.

“Well done! You really are good with that knife!”

Apollo laughed like a madman, swinging his bokken around like it was a whip. His feet were dancing across the floor, twisting and sliding.

In the end, his chest was still pierced by a knife.

Slowly his head became less muddled. It was filled with dopamine from all the laughing he was doing.

The stimulation from his laughs grew, slowly making his smile larger and his swings more excited.

…

As time passed, the excessive dopamine was hurting his brain. He could feel his blood pulsating through his head, overloading it.

Apollo did not realize it, but his eyes were slowly widening.

His eyes were as wide as can be, causing his mind to become more stressed. However, at this point, he could no longer tell the difference.

He began swinging his sword for the sake of swinging it.

The events became a blur to Apollo.

…

He saw himself standing in a field. In his hand was a bokken and in front of him was his mother.

His mother swung a wooden sword around.

“Watch carefully Apollo. To swing the sword you must do it like this.”

Apollo tried to follow his mother’s movements but did so clumsily.

His mother sighed.

“The way I learned how to swing the sword was through battle. Perhaps you will learn faster by being in a fight.”

Apollo’s mother swung her sword at Apollo, which he blocked.

Apollo’s mother began circling him as she struck, forcing him to hastily block using his sword.

Apollo didn’t know what he was doing, thus it was easy for his mother to strike the back of his knee.

Apollo fell to the ground in pain.

His mother had a stern expression on her face.

“Stand up.”

…

Apollo was on his knee, with a knife piercing his chest.

Despite that, he stood up and swung one more time at his assassin.

Apollo’s vision darkened once again.

He was starting to have difficulty in differentiating his visions and real life.

Apollo smiled.

“Mother? Why are you hiding from me, mother?”

Apollo spun around, trying to find what he believed to be his mother.

A small frown appeared on Apollo’s face.

“Ah, you will only play with me if I pick up my bokken. Don’t worry, I’m on it!”

Apollo continued swinging his bokken and blocking the knife. He felt like he was dancing and performing a show for countless people.

Apollo and his bokken appeared to merge, as though they were on the same wavelength.

Each strike, each swing, and each death slowly imprinted itself within Apollo’s mind. He did not even understand why he was swinging his bokken the way he was.

It just felt right.

Through Apollo’s ragged breaths, he tried to talk to his assassin.

“Mother? Am I doing it properly? You still hit me, I must be doing something wrong.”

A knife pierced through Apollo’s chest.

While the blood was pouring out of him, Apollo was still smiling.

“Ah, sorry mother. I will try my best next time!”

Apollo did not know how many times he died, or how long he spent fighting off his assassin.

However, at some point, it became strange to him while his hand was empty. It was like he had lost part of himself while his bokken was not in his hand.

Apollo did not bother to optimize his breathing, opting to talk as he swung his bokken.

“Is it like this? Oh no, I probably should’ve swung it slower. Sorry, mother!”

Little nicks appeared on his bokken as he fended off the slashes.

For the first time, he was able to stay alive for five minutes.

At this point, his assassin no longer bothered hiding. The assassin took out her second dagger, swinging it along with her other dagger.

“Stupid kid, I’m not your mother.”

Apollo laughed.

“What do you mean mother? You must be joking.”

The assassin frowned, not letting up on her strikes.

Slashes quickly appeared one after another on Apollo’s skin.

It was only a few seconds before a knife plunged into his chest.

Apollo was smiling as widely as ever.

“Wow, mother! You are so good at this!”

…

Apollo learned how to tilt his bokken in elusive ways to block the onslaught from both daggers.

Time passed in a blur.

Eventually, he went a full hour blocking his assassin’s strikes.

Despite that, his bokken did not even have a scratch mark on it.

The assassin stopped attacking and stared at Apollo.

“Who taught you your swordplay kid?”

Apollo smiled happily.

“What do you mean mother? It was you!”

The assassin’s face twitched.

“What?”