God's Blessing is a Curse

Genzo didn't speak of the ambush again.

Not directly.

But everything changed after that night.

He stopped holding back.

We trained before the sun rose. My grip was still sloppy. My footing off. But he no longer corrected me with words. He corrected me by striking. Hard. Swift. Relentless.

"You're waiting for time to protect you again," he barked as I hit the ground for the fifth time that morning. "It won't."

"I'm not—"

"You are. I see it in your posture. You move like someone expecting the world to catch you when you fall."

I stood up, breath ragged. "You saw it too. That thing... it looked at me like it knew something I didn't."

"It did."

He handed me the wooden staff again. "So learn."