"Hey, Mister. What's your name?" asked Azrael, curious.
"Young man, I used to be called Ethan. You know? In the past, I had exceptional students," the old man replied with a nostalgic look.
"Really? What students, sir?" insisted Azrael.
"You must have surely seen them at the academy as teachers. There were only two of them, my only true talents," Ethan explained, sighing.
"What were the names of those two students, sir?"
"My best disciples: Dario and Andre. The most brilliant I ever had in my entire life. I miss them deeply… I wonder when they'll return, truly."
After a moment of silence, Azrael began to tell him everything that had happened: how Dario and Andre had stayed behind to face a mysterious and fearsome swordsman of immense strength, and how they now had no idea if they were still alive or had fallen in battle.
"Is that so? They were my pupils… I'm sure they must be alive," murmured Ethan, with a mix of worry and faith. After a pause, he added, "Well, let's continue with your training. There's no time to waste."
For an entire year, Azrael, along with James and Sara, trained tirelessly under Ethan's strict but wise tutelage. The three of them ended each day exhausted, with sore muscles and minds drained from so much practice. James and Sara never imagined they would end up being part of such rigorous training alongside Azrael, until Ethan announced that the three of them had to prepare together.
"Azrael, this seems endless. Besides, hand-to-hand combat isn't exactly our specialty," protested Sara and James, with faces showing evident suffering.
"If we truly want to become strong and survive, we have no other choice," replied Azrael, with a spark of enthusiasm in his eyes.
As the months passed, Azrael became noticeably more precise and skillful. He developed an obsession with perfecting every movement, practicing relentlessly, day and night, until he mastered each technique.
"Well, youngsters, it has been a true pleasure teaching you. I'm going to miss you, but I have nothing left for you to learn here. From now on, you must practice on your own and gain experience in the field," Ethan announced in a solemn tone.
"Noooo! We're not ready to leave!" shouted the three friends, almost in unison.
"I'm very sorry, kids, but you can't stay here forever. It's time for you to return home," the master replied firmly, though with sadness in his gaze.
Azrael, James, and Sara began to pack their meager belongings. Just before they were about to depart, Ethan caught up to them and, with a ceremonial gesture, handed each of them a sword. They accepted the weapons, believing they were common tools, and said goodbye with deep gratitude. Ethan watched them walk away, a shadow of pride on his aged face.
'I have prepared them enough to survive the dangers of this forest,' he murmured to himself. 'In time, they will become powerful, even reaching a level worthy of mythical legends.'