Repetition, is the mother of learning

I used to always swing a stick, as a child.
It was the most joyful activity I could ever do.
That was all I did.
So it wasn’t a surprise when my parents sent me to kendo lessons.
That was even better.
But there was a catch that made both my parents, and my sensei mad.
I didn’t want to participate in contests.
I didn’t see it as fun.
It was more fun to swing the sword.
So I swung it.
Day after day.
Year after year.
And I realised something.
The sword I was using now, was already custom made from special fibres, so it weighted a lot.
And I still swung it.
Day after day.
When one day, I cut something.
I don’t know what I cut, but I felt weightless.
Free.
Unfettered.
Not that I cared.
I continued to swing the sword.
Day after day.
Until one day, something appeared in front of me.
It was a swirling mass of smoke, blue, black and grey.
I just swung my sword at it, and it disappeared.
Then, news of monsters appearing everywhere spread.
I shrugged.
The first time I met a monster, I just swung my hand at it.
It died.
I thought that this was easy.
So I went with my sword, swinging, killing all monsters I met.
Day after day.
I swung my sword, having fun, while destroying these dangerous fellas.
Day after day I did what I liked.
Years and years passed.
And in the end, I ended up being called “Sword God.”
Quite a heavy name.
But funnily enough, it wasn’t my fellow brethren who called me like that.
But the monsters and now other individuals who appeared on Earth.
Not that I cared.
I learnt something from my grandpa when I was young, and that was what kept me going.
“Repetition is the mother of learning.”
This I took to heart.
And so I did repeat.
Day after day.
I swung my sword, until apparently…I became a God…