Chapter 78: Asaemon
"Why are you such an ungrateful bastard? Do you really think you passed your fate trial on your own strength?" Pry snarled at Daylan.
"Think about it... even with the strength you have now, climbing up and down a mountain for a whole week would’ve taken a serious toll on you."
Daylan wore an annoyed sneer. "I think the real question is why you hate me so much."
Pry lunged at Daylan, swinging her claws, but before she could strike, Medora caught her in midair.
She turned to Daylan, who sat shirtless in the center of the vast training room, meditating as sweat drenched his body.
"And you—I don’t think you’re being very nice to Pry. She’s centuries older than you, you know?"
Her words stung Pry as she forced herself free from Medora’s grasp. "If your way of supporting me is insulting me, then stop. Just so you know, I’m still twenty-one. I never age."
It was still dawn, and aside from their voices, the only sound was the wind brushing against the trees, stirring the forest fog into beautiful waves.
The Blind Prophet woke everyone around 2:00 a.m. The path ahead—especially for Daylan—wasn’t one they could afford to rest on. From that day forward, they were allowed only four hours of sleep each night.
Even then, how long it would take Daylan to gain the strength to overcome his system would depend entirely on how quickly he could grow.
Daylan continued to meditate. Though he was occasionally distracted, he maintained an impactful rhythm. Meanwhile, Medora practiced her swordwork a short distance away—far enough not to disturb him.