Chapter 47: Training: Beyond the Manual’s Reach!
The hall erupted into a flurry of motion.
The woman moved like a blizzard, her spear not just a weapon but a relentless force of nature. She didn’t give him a second to adjust.
She moved in a blur, her spear whistling through the air with a speed that made Soren’s hair stand on end. He barely managed to bring his own weapon up in time.
Clang!
The force of the impact vibrated through his bones, nearly numbing his fingers. He tried to pivot, but she was already there, her weapon darting like a silver serpent. Every time he tried to find a rhythm, she shut him down with a clinical, cold efficiency. There was no breathing room. She kept him on the back foot, forcing him to move and react until his lungs felt like they were on fire.
"You are too stiff," she said, her voice calm and level even as she launched a flurry of staccato thrusts. "Stop trying to force the movement."
Soren grunted, parrying a strike aimed at his chest.
He then tried to manifest the first form, gathering his mana at the tip of the blade, but the technique collapsed before it could even form. And the distraction cost him. She stepped into his guard and slammed the shaft of her spear into his shoulder, sending him stumbling back.
"Again," she commanded, her expression indifferent.
He reset his stance, sweat dripping into his eyes.
Taking a deep breath, he lunged forward, aiming for a quick strike, but she swerved around him like a ghost. He tried to trigger the technique again, but it felt like trying to catch smoke with his bare hands.
"You are forcing it," she spoke, her voice echoing in the quiet hall. "Just stop overthinking it."
She came at him with a relentless overhead strike. Soren didn’t have time to retreat. He stopped trying to remember the exact wording of the manual and simply let the freezing pressure of her presence sink in. He felt the ambient cold in the room and pulled it into his core.
’Don’t force it... Feel it...’
As she moved for the finishing blow, Soren’s body and mind finally clicked together.
’I got it!’
He twisted his hips, his spear arm snapping forward with a sudden, crystalline focus.
[First Form: Frost Piercing Thrust!]
The spear tip vanished into a streak of white light. A jagged surge of frost energy exploded from the point, piercing through the air with a sharp, cracking sound.
The woman’s eyes widened slightly as she tilted her head, the frost from the technique actually crystallizing the air an inch from her skin.
"Good!"
She chuckled while parrying the thrust with a flick of her wrist and immediately swept her weapon toward his ankles to capitalize on his momentum.
Soren didn’t fight the force of the parry. He leaned into it, letting the energy of the first strike roll into his shoulders. He spun his entire body in a violent, grounded rotation.
[Second Form: Glacial Sweep!]
A massive crescent of frost erupted from his blade.
SWOOSH!
It wasn’t just a physical swing; it was a wave of slicing ice that cut through the air with a low, heavy roar. The frost-chill left a visible trail of white across the floor. The woman was forced to leap back, her boots grazing the top of the freezing arc as she narrowly avoided the blast.
Soren finished the rotation and planted his spear, his breath coming out in a thick cloud of vapor.
The woman landed softly, her spear held loosely at her side. For the first time, the indifferent mask on her face had a small crack of approval.
"Nice job."
"Huff... Huff..."
Soren took several more deep breaths, his chest heaving as he tried to calm his racing heart. The adrenaline was still pumping through his veins, but the exhaustion was starting to settle in. He wiped the sweat from his eyes and looked at the woman, offering a small nod of gratitude.
"Thank you," he managed to say through his heavy breathing.
The woman didn’t lower her weapon. Instead, a faint, almost predatory smile played on her lips.
"Don’t thank me yet," she said, her voice regaining its usual cool edge. "We won’t stop until you can use those forms as naturally as breathing. Again."
"U-Understood," Soren replied, tightening his grip on the spear.
He understood her point well. While his battles against monsters had helped him build raw strength and basic reflexes, those battles lacked the precision and psychological pressure of a real duel. A duel with a truly intelligent opponent. Against slimes or even the fissure hounds, he could afford a sloppy movement. But here, a single misstep meant a spear shaft to the ribs or being sent flying. He needed this intensity to bridge the gap between knowing the moves and mastering them.
He took another deep breath, centering himself once more.
"I’m ready."
"Come," she beckoned.
They clashed again.
And for the next two hours, the hall was filled with the rhythmic sound of spears striking each other.
They also didn’t forget to take occasional short breaks, allowing Soren just enough time to recover a sliver of his mana and catch his breath before she plunged him back into the storm.
However, each time they restarted, she pushed him harder, forcing him to execute the Frost Piercing Thrust and Glacial Sweep under increasingly difficult angles.
By the time the session finally drew to a close, the sun had shifted significantly outside.
Soren’s legs finally gave out.
He collapsed onto the floor, his spear clattering beside him. He lay there flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling, his body soaked in sweat and his muscles screaming in protest. He was completely spent, but for the first time, the first two forms of the Glacial Edge felt like they were truly his. He even started to comprehend the third and final form.
"Huff... Huff..."
The woman stood over him, looking down with that same indifferent mask, though her eyes held a trace of genuine recognition.
"Clean yourself up," she said, turning to walk away. "And meet me outside. We need to have a talk."
"Huff... U-Understood..."
Soren managed a weak reply, his voice barely a whisper.
He remained on the floor for several minutes, waiting for the ringing in his ears to fade and the strength to return to his trembling limbs. Once he felt he could trust his legs not to buckle, he pushed himself up, grabbed his spear, and made his way to the locker room.
The cold water in the shower felt like a godsend against his overheated skin. He washed away the grime and sweat, feeling the soreness in his muscles dull to a manageable ache.
After drying off and changing into a fresh set of clothes, he felt human again.
He stepped out of the large training hall and found her leaning against the wall, her gaze fixed on the distance.
"Thank you for waiting," Soren said, his voice much steadier now.
"Stop flattering me, and here, take this."
She didn’t even look at him as she tossed a chilled juice can his way.
Soren caught it with a sharp snap of his wrist, the cold condensation feeling good against his still-pulsing palms. He took a long, refreshing sip, watching as she pushed off the wall and walked toward a nearby sofa in the lounge area while finishing her own drink.
He quickly followed her and sat opposite her, wondering what she wanted to talk about.
"Are you free the next few days?"
"..."
Soren’s hand froze with the can halfway to his mouth. His brain, already fried from two hours of high-intensity training, struggled to process the question into anything that wasn’t a death threat.
"H-Huh?"