Chapter 57: TRAINING


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    The morning began with the faintest sliver of dawn creeping over the horizon, but Sora was already looming over me, her voice cutting through the haze of sleep.


    "Get up. Now."


    There was no softness in her tone, no patience. I groaned as I rose, muscles already sore from days of travel, but Sora''s eyes were cold, distant. This wouldn''t be like any training I''d been through before—I could feel it.


    We met in the courtyard. I watched as Sora unclasped her Jingozi belt, the leather worn and familiar. She hung it on the outstretched arm of a moss-covered statue.


    "Your turn," Sora said, her voice flat and emotionless.


    I hesitated for a moment, my hand instinctively moving toward my cards. The Jingozi cards had become more than just tools—they were a part of me now, the same way a poker player knows the odds of every card at the table. But Sora''s unwavering gaze left no room for argument.


    Sighing, I reached into my inventory and pulled out my card deck. I walked over to the ancient fountain at the center of the courtyard, its waters long since stilled. Gently, I placed my deck on the weathered stone ledge.


    "Is this really necessary?" I asked, unable to keep the reluctance from my voice.


    Sora''s eyes narrowed.


    "You rely too much on those cards. Today, you learn to fight without them."


    I glanced back at my deck, feeling vulnerable.


    "Eyes on me," Sora snapped. "Our enemies will outnumber us and exploit the weakness of all Jingozi apprentices—your finite resources."


    We didn''t start with fists or kicks—that would have been a mercy. No, she immediately threw me a pair of daggers. I fumbled as I caught them, the weight awkward in my hands. Before I even had a chance to adjust, she was already on me, the flash of her blades whistling toward my throat. I barely brought up my arms in time to block, the force of her strike reverberating through my bones.


    The impact was brutal, and the follow-up was worse. Sora moved like a shadow, slipping past every defense I clumsily threw up. The daggers felt heavy and slow, and with each strike, I realized how much I relied on my magic—my cards—to balance my weaknesses. But they weren''t going to help me here.


    She didn''t pull her strikes; each time her blade connected, it hurt—physically and mentally. Cuts, bruises, and scrapes piled up as the day dragged on, but Sora never slowed.


    "You rely too much on what you see," she hissed, slashing at me again. "You don''t know how to feel."


    I barely blocked, the dagger slipping from my fingers.


    "I can''t do this—" I began, but her foot slammed into my side, sending me sprawling as my lungs emptied in a rush.


    "You think the Lightslayer cares what''s fair?" She stood over me, waiting, not offering a hand. "Get up."


    By the end of the first day, I collapsed—bruised, cut, gasping for air. Sora didn''t let up, didn''t acknowledge my pain, and left me in the dirt.


    Cragmarr and Kitty emerged from behind a set of wooden screens, looking deeply concerned. They tended to my wounds as I silently replayed all my mistakes and everything I had yet to learn.


    * * *


    The second day was worse.


    Sora didn''t even let me catch my breath. From the moment I stepped into the courtyard, she threw me a spear—heavier than the daggers—and the fight began anew. She wielded her spear with terrifying speed, striking relentlessly. I felt the wooden shaft connect with my ribs, arms, and legs. Then the blade grazed me, just deep enough to send thin ribbons of blood flying across the courtyard. Each blow was a lesson in failure.


    "You''re too slow!" she barked, sweeping my legs out from under me. I hit the ground with a thud, the spear rolling out of my grip.


    This time, she didn''t just wound me. When the butt of her weapon cracked against my forearm, I heard the snap. Pain shot through my arm, so intense it took everything I had not to scream. I clutched my arm, my vision swimming.


    But Sora didn''t flinch. She knelt beside me, her hand glowing faintly with a Zii coin pulsing between her fingers. Within seconds, the pain subsided, and the bone mended. My mind barely had time to register the healing before she yanked me back to my feet.


    "Again."


    I faltered, mentally trying to process the whirlwind of agony followed by sudden relief. But Sora didn''t give me time to think. Her blade slammed into my shoulder, and I barely blocked the next strike. Every wound she inflicted, she healed. Every mistake cost me, and there was no respite.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    The toll continued. I couldn''t keep track of how many times I''d been cut, bruised, or broken. The constant barrage of pain followed by quick healing left me in a daze, my mind struggling to cope with the rapid cycle of suffering.


    By dusk, I could barely lift my staff, but Sora didn''t care. She kept pushing me, beating me down, until I thought I''d break for good.


    * * *


    On the third morning. my body screamed with exhaustion, and my mind was fractured, reeling from two days of relentless punishment. Sora stood there, arms crossed, waiting. In her hand, two Ninja swords gleamed in the early light.


    "Today, we fight for real," she said, tossing one to me.


    I caught it, but barely. The weight of the sword felt heavier than anything I''d held before.


    "You mean we''ve been playing around this whole time?" I said in a pitiful attempt to break the tension and get her to let up. Her expression let me know I was having the opposite effect.


    My arms shook as I readied myself, my grip unsteady. Sora drew her blade with a whispering hiss of steel, her eyes locked onto mine.


    This wasn''t training anymore. This was survival.


    She came at me faster than before. Our swords clashed, sparks flying. I stumbled back, barely parrying the next strike. Her movements were fluid and deadly, and each time she breached my defenses, I was cut deep.


    Blood streaked my arm, side, and leg. Each wound hurt more than the last, but Sora didn''t stop. She''d cut, heal, and then cut again. The cycle was merciless.


    "You''re hesitating!" she shouted, her sword flashing toward my throat. I barely ducked, the wind from the strike brushing my cheek.


    "I''m trying!" I yelled back, frustration and exhaustion boiling over.


    "Trying isn''t enough!" Her blade came down hard, and I blocked just in time, the force driving me to one knee. "If you hesitate, you die."


    She slashed at my chest. I gasped, the pain white-hot, but before I could react, she placed a Zii coin over the wound, sealing it instantly. The sudden relief was dizzying, but she didn''t stop.


    The day stretched on, each fight more brutal than the last. But somewhere, amid all that suffering, something shifted. I wasn''t thinking anymore. My body moved instinctively, blocking and parrying without hesitation. When she slashed, I dodged. When she struck, I countered. I wasn''t beating her—far from it—but I was holding my own.


    By the end of the third day, I stood, sword in hand, my breath ragged but steady. Sora circled me, her eyes appraising. I was bruised and bloodied, but still standing. I''d been cut down a thousand times, but each time I rose again, more determined than before.


    She sheathed her sword, nodding slightly.


    "You''ve learned. But tomorrow, we start again."


    * * *


    For the next week or so, Sora and I fell into a rhythm. Mornings were dedicated to combat training—brutal but purposeful. In the afternoons, we prepared the island, memorizing every twist and turn of the underground tunnels beneath Katorro''s estate. We laid traps at critical points—tripwires, pitfalls, explosive crystal clusters ready to be triggered.


    I kept Kitty with Cragmarr during the training sessions. The sight of Sora cutting me up day after day stressed her too much. But in the evenings, Kitty and I would explore the island together, enjoying quiet moments on the beach or hunting in the forest. I let Usain roam free too. The thunderhorn appreciated the open space, though he always returned at nightfall, whinnying softly at the estate gates.


    Sora remained stern during training, but something had changed between us. Small moments—a shared meal, a quick smile when I mastered a particularly difficult move, the way she''d point out interesting plants as we worked on the defenses. The ice was thawing, slowly but surely.


    Cragmarr stayed busy tending to Jon, whose condition hadn''t improved despite our best efforts. But Cragmarr also took charge of meals, once again proving surprisingly skilled at cooking. His stews became something we all looked forward to at the end of each grueling day.


    Before sleeping for the night, I continued to work on my crystalmancer skills, shaping the material to form the earbuds we''d need for communication. Since my gift didn''t allow me to speak beyond my line of sight, magic would have to do the trick. We tested them every day, and I was happy with the results.


    * * *


    During our final training session, Sora came at me with everything she had. But this time was different. My body moved without thought, blade meeting blade in a deadly dance. When she struck high, I was already moving low. When she feinted left, I anticipated the attack from the right. I felt completely in control for the first time without reaching for my cards.


    "Better," Sora said simply, lowering her sword. Coming from her, it was high praise.


    Looking at my reflection in my blade, I barely recognized myself. My movements were precise and efficient. The hesitation was gone. I''d become what Sora had been pushing me to be—a fighter who could survive without magic—with another rank to show for it.


    LEVEL UPDATE


    Name: Ember [Judgment Dealer]*


    Tier: III [Steel] Rank 8


    * * *


    I settled into my Zii-Kata stance in the arena, letting my breath flow naturally. As always, the spell card materialized, and so did the Shogun, his crimson and gold robes pristine despite our previous encounters.


    I suppressed the urge to lash out with an attack. Instead of drawing my sword, I remained still.


    "Why do you keep appearing here?"


    The Shogun''s silence felt different this time—like he had something to tell me.


    "Can you not speak?"


    No response.


    "Are you... still alive?"


    Nothing.


    I circled him slowly, studying his stoic expression.


    "Are you my enemy?"


    He shook his head firmly.


    A chill ran through me as understanding dawned.


    "The Jingozi—they''ve trapped you somehow..."


    The Shogun nodded once.


    "How are you able to appear here?"


    "You see what others cannot," Alpathir echoed through the arena. "It''s part of your gift."


    "Can he hear you?" I asked. "Does he know you exist?"


    "No and no."


    Suddenly, a Jingozi materialized inches from my face. I yelped and stumbled backward, landing hard on the arena floor.


    Looking up at the endless sky above, something new—two massive stars burned brighter than the rest. One pulsed in sync with my racing heart, and the other seemed to resonate with the Shogun''s presence. The Jingozi had vanished.


    "The Jingozi know you are here," Alpathir said. "I can no longer help you. But you have all you need. Tell them about me and what I will do."


    "Wait, what do you mean?"


    Alpathir was gone.


    I got to my feet as an idea tingled in the back of my mind. Walking up to the Shogun, I met his gaze as my fire sight reflected in his one eye. He didn''t flinch, welcoming the connection.


    "Well, Lord Shogun, I gotta feeling we''re both going to regret this."


    My fire sight blazed as I stared into the Shogun''s eye. The world twisted, and reality bent as memories that weren''t mine flooded my consciousness.