Its been a two years since Amir began to train with Nikoloas, the Eaters of the Dead were no longer just stories mothers tell to scare off children, the threat was becoming real.
Amir had become very skilled at using two wooden swords in both hands instead of a shield.
Then, Nikoloas dropped two real swords on the ground between them.
"If you must beat the snake," he said, "you must first beat me."
Amir surprised. "Are you sure?"
Nikoloas laughed. "Pick it up, boy."
Amir bent down, grabbed one sword, and held it tight in both hands. Nikoloas picked up the other and swung it easily, like it weighed nothing.
Then, without hesitation, he charged.
Their swords clashed with a sharp spark with each hit. Amir stumbled back, blocking again and again. Nikoloas moved fast, trying to find a weakness, a low guard, a tired step but Amir stood firm like a rock. Every move Nikoloas made, Amir read it, stayed two steps ahead, just like he had been taught.
They circled each other, swinging and blocking, again and again. Dust kicked up around their feet.
Nikoloas pressed harder, but Amir defended well. He struck back when he saw an opening, careful but sure.
Nikoloas knew Amir could have ended the fight many times. He had chances to hit him hard, to win.
But each time, Amir held back.
He didn't want to hurt the man who had taught him everything.
Finally, in one move, Amir twisted Nikoloas's sword out of his hand and pointed his blade at Nikoloas's throat.
Nikoloas froze, then threw back his head and laughed.
"I didn't see that move coming!" he said, stepping back and holding Amir on the shoulder. "Very well done!"
Amir smiled, breathing hard.
"You could have beaten me faster," Nikoloas said, "but you held back. That shows not just skill, but control. The best fighters don't fight to kill. They fight to protect."
Amir felt proud.
Nikoloas smiled. "But you're not done yet. One more trick before I let you go and whip many asses."
He reached into a small wooden chest and pulled out a thick rope. With a flick of his wrist, he swung it around in a big circle above his head.
"Learn to use the rope like this," he said. "It's not just for show. A rope can save your life, or end a fight before it starts. Like a snake striking."
Nikoloas handed the rope to Amir.
"Now, you try."
Amir swung it at first but rope hit the ground. He kept trying.
Nikoloas watched closely correcting him when needed.
"Loosen your wrist. Feel the weight. Let the rope do the work."
Bit by bit, Amir started to figure it out. Before long, he was swirling the rope above his head smoothly. He could feel the pull and the balance, like the rope was alive in his hand.
Nikoloas smiled in approval.
"You're getting it. A warrior's hands must be good with sword, shield... and rope."
They trained until the sun went down, the sky glowing gold and red over the sea. Amir's arms were tired, but his spirit was stronger than ever.
He was no longer just a boy training to survive.
He was becoming a beacon of hope for a small nation vulnerable to attacks.
He was ready to face what was coming, ready to defend Greece against, the mystical serpent in the well, the eaters of the dead, war and destiny itself.