Chapter 5: Practicing the Breathing Technique

"This book is dedicated to the truest descendants of the Round Table Knights, those who are genuinely willing to uphold the spirit of chivalry." "Merlin and the Order of the Round Table Knights." Edward read the words aloud. Though the pages were worn with age, the text remained strikingly clear. "Son, since when did you learn Old English and Runes?" William and Anne were both astonished. Quick-witted as ever, Edward instantly realized his parents couldn't see the changes in the book. It seemed that after accidentally spilling his blood on it, the book had recognized him as its master. He explained this to his parents, who nodded in sudden understanding. "There's actually an artifact like this?" William said, glancing at the portrait behind them, which had slowly sealed shut. "Your grandfather only ever told me that only a descendant using the exact same wand as our ancestor Bedivere could access the secret chamber behind the portrait." "As for what's inside, he had no idea." William shrugged helplessly. "Turns out, it's just a booklet." After skimming through the book, the Bedivere family reached the same conclusion: if this book were in the Hogwarts Library, it would be locked away in the deepest corner of the Restricted Section—possibly even in the Headmaster's office. Mastering its contents could make someone unstoppable, not just at Hogwarts but in the entire wizarding world. Ancient magic, powerful alchemy, potent potions, unimaginable magical artifacts, rune techniques to imbue weapons with magic, and even unheard-of dark spells—it was all there. Of course, that was assuming someone could fully master it. If they did, they might be on par with the great wizard Merlin himself—minus the fact that Merlin's name was often tossed around as a joke among witches and wizards. But Edward had no plans to dominate the wizarding world. With great power comes great responsibility, and if he ever gained such strength, he'd rather use it for good. This book is first published on 101kan.com, offering a seamless reading experience with no errors or out-of-order chapters. Doing bad things required immense power—think of You-Know-Who, Voldemort. But being a good person required even greater strength to stand against such evil. Still, a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step, and such grand ideas were far off. With a month left before the start of term, Edward trained daily under William and Anne's guidance, diving into the book's knowledge. Thanks to his Compassion blessing, which gave him three times the focus of an ordinary person, Edward learned quickly. But the more he studied, the more he realized just how powerful the Round Table Knights of King Arthur's era were—and how challenging it was to master the book's teachings. The legendary duel between Merlin and Morgan le Fay, or King Arthur's battle with Mordred at the Hill of Camlann, was almost unimaginable in its scale. For now, Edward couldn't dream of such feats. He had to start with the basics: the Magical Knight Breathing Technique. The Round Table Knights weren't called Magical Knights just because they wielded both wands and weapons like lances or swords. They had fused these two seemingly incompatible systems. For a wizard, using two wands simultaneously was nearly impossible. For a knight, wielding two close-combat weapons required years of practice. Combining magic and weaponry was exponentially harder, especially since they drew on entirely different kinds of power. That's where Merlin's invention came in: the Magical Knight Breathing Technique. By controlling breathing, one could channel their magical energy, making it easier to wield magic in combat. Much of this was Merlin's genius at work. Even a Squib like Sir Gawain, who relied on brute strength, could master the breathing technique to wield rune-infused blades. But practicing it was no walk in the park. Even with extraordinary focus, dedication and sweat were the true foundation of progress. Every day, Edward donned armor as heavy as himself and ran ten laps around the estate before training in swordsmanship with William, pouring every ounce of his focus and willpower into it. At first, it was grueling. But as he persevered, feeling the subtle changes in his body and adjusting his breathing, Edward was filled with the joy of progress. It felt good to see results. If not for his Compassion blessing's heightened perception, which let him notice his daily improvements, he might have given up. This also made him understand why the book emphasized that only the truest descendants of the Round Table Knights—those who genuinely lived by chivalric virtues—could master its power. Without unyielding determination and resolve, no one could stick with it. Even William, after seeing Edward's training regimen, backed off. Edward had shared the breathing technique with him, and William tried training alongside his son. But in both comprehension and execution, he lagged far behind. Soon, William made peace with it. In the face of his prodigious son, he shifted to being a supportive partner and sparring buddy. After all, Edward was the true heir to the Round Table Knights' legacy. As for himself? Well, he'd stick to his day job as a model. Anne, meanwhile, ached to see her eleven-year-old son endure such intense "torture." He was just a kid, not out to save the world! All she could do was work with the house-elf to ensure Edward had endless logistical support—food, rest, and care. With his parents' love and encouragement, Edward kept at it. Following the book's training methods, he finally reached the first tier of the Magical Knight Breathing Technique before the school year began. Tier One was the most basic level, but it marked a crucial, solid step toward becoming a Magical Knight. It was a transformative feeling. The breathing technique didn't make him a master of all magic overnight or turn him into a muscle-bound warrior who could take on ten foes at once. But Edward could feel a qualitative leap in his physical condition. His body had changed noticeably in a short time—he'd even shot up two inches (about 5 cm) in height. His appetite had doubled, too. Once just eating a few extra potatoes compared to a typical eleven-year-old, he now ate enough for two. The book assured him this was normal. His muscles weren't just stronger; they carried a subtle flow of magical energy, giving him better control over his body. With the breathing technique, wielding a wand in one hand and a sword in the other felt natural. Once again, Edward laughed heartily as he trained on the back lawn, sweat pouring down. In front of him lay a training dummy, custom-made to his size, now hacked to pieces and sprawled on the ground. Just moments ago, it had been "attacking" him with lifelike vigor. "Hahaha! I'm a wizard warrior now!" A month flew by, and training came to an end. The start of the school year was almost here. Tomorrow was September 1st—the day the Hogwarts Express would depart.