Woon finished his meal, the last bite of bread swallowed with a gulp. "Yo, Eric!" he called out, a restless energy thrumming in his voice. "When's our next mercenary mission? I'm itching to try out this new strength!"
Eric chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Soon, Woon, soon. But for now, train. We'll be taking on some big requests when I get back."
"Alright, alright," Woon conceded, though his excitement was still palpable. "But speaking of getting back... you've been running back and forth to your family a lot lately. Everything okay?"
A soft smile touched Eric's lips. "Yeah. Got a new little sister. My family prioritizes new members above everything."
"Oh, so you're a big brother now!" Woon grinned.
"Technically," Eric corrected, a hint of pride in his tone, "but yeah, a new sibling changes things."
"By the way," Woon continued, a more serious note entering his voice, "I don't have any armor or real protection. Just this katana."
"Your strength lies in your speed and flexibility," Eric explained, his expression turning thoughtful. "You'll need to hone your senses and concentration to compensate for any lack of defense."
"And what do I need to do to truly improve my swordsmanship?" Woon asked, his gaze fixed on Eric, eager for every word.
"A katana is light and long," Eric began, his voice calm and deliberate. "It's all about timing, concentration, precision, and calmness. Lose balance in any of those, and your technique crumbles." He paused, then used an analogy. "Think of a tall tower. If its structure is incomplete, if materials are missing... what happens over time?"
"It'll fall and crumble?" Woon ventured, catching on.
"Exactly. If your foundation isn't strong, your technique will fall and crumble," Eric affirmed.
"Hmm, okay. I'll go into seclusion for about two days in Ron's training room. I'll be gone."
"Sounds good. I'll be at my family's residence for a while myself," Eric replied.
"See ya! I'm heading to Ron's shop now."
Woon and Eric parted ways. Woon wasted no time, heading straight to Ron's shop to secure permission for the training room.
Woon pushed open the door to Ron's shop, the familiar chime above announcing his arrival. "Yo, Ron!"
Ron looked up from behind the counter, a surprised look on his face. "You're back again? Already?"
"Yeah, just finished talking with Eric at the inn."
"So, what can I do for you?"
"Can I borrow your training room for two days? I'm going into seclusion training."
Ron raised an eyebrow. "Sure, but two days? That's short for any real progress. You usually need at least a week."
"I'm going to be using divinity," Woon explained, a glint in his eye. "I found a way to use it."
"Hooh! You've already learned to harness it?" Ron's interest was piqued. "Sure, I'll give you some grain pills to keep you going."
"Grain pills?" Woon asked, unfamiliar with the term.
"Yeah, they're widely used for seclusion training. You'll need the nutrition to avoid hunger and maintain your energy."
"Awesome, thanks! I'll start now, no time to waste."
"What's the rush?" Ron asked, sensing Woon's urgency.
Woon's jaw hardened. "I have a new goal."
"A goal, huh? What is it?"
Woon leaned closer, his voice dropping to a determined whisper. "You two said I was untalented, right? I'm going to prove that an untalented person can beat a prodigy. I call it... OPERATION TSOA!"
Ron's eyes widened slightly, then a slow smile spread across his face. "Hooh! Beating up prodigies to prove yourself? Not a bad ambition, but it'll be tough."
"There's nothing impossible as long as you try!" Woon declared, his resolve burning brightly.
"Hope you stay that determined," Ron said, a genuine warmth in his tone.
"I'm heading inside now. See you in two days!"
"Sure thing, Woon. I wish you luck!"
The Seclusion Begins: A Dance in Darkness
Woon strode into the training room, the heavy door thudding shut behind him. He didn't bother with the lights, instead moving to the center of the room and sitting cross-legged. The darkness swallowed him whole, absolute and oppressive, yet he found a strange comfort in it. It was just him and his thoughts.
He inhaled deeply, then let out a slow, deliberate breath, clearing his mind.
'Now, time to use divinity.'
Woon closed his eyes, focusing inward. He conjured an illusion within his mind: an array of glowing orbs, varying in size, darting and weaving through the impenetrable darkness. They moved with erratic grace, some slow and ponderous, others a blur of light. He imagined their trajectories, their subtle shifts in speed and direction.
With his eyes still closed, he reached for his katana. The familiar weight of the hilt settled in his palm, and the whisper of steel leaving its sheath filled the silence. He rose to his feet, posture rigid, the katana held low in a guarded stance, tip pointing downwards.
'Precision!' he commanded himself.
Moments stretched, thick with anticipation. Then, Woon exploded into motion. His body coiled and uncoiled, a blur of disciplined power. He thrust, a lightning-fast jab aimed at the largest orb, an illusion the size of an egg. The phantom resistance of the hit confirmed his success. But he wasn't done. He tried to follow up, to strike the next biggest orb, one no larger than a marble, but it was too fast, too elusive. It zipped around him, a mocking gleam in the darkness.
Woon took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down, returning to his low guard stance. He waited, focusing, his senses extended, straining to pinpoint the marble-sized target. Time seemed to slow. He calculated its path, its rhythm. And then, he lunged again, a piercing thrust, faster than before. This time, it merely grazed the orb. Frustration gnawed at him, but he pushed it down. He launched another blindingly fast thrust, and this time, the orb shattered into a thousand shimmering fragments in his mind's eye.
'Hooh,' Woon exhaled, a bead of sweat tracing a path down his temple.
The second orb vanquished, Woon immediately turned his attention to the third, a target even smaller, faster. He thrust, again and again, but the orb seemed to shimmer out of existence just before his blade connected. It danced tantalizingly, always just beyond reach, infuriatingly slippery. Consecutive barrages of thrusts left him panting, his muscles screaming, frustration bubbling to the surface. He couldn't even scratch it!
'This is so hard!' he groaned inwardly.
He finally opened his eyes, blinking against the sudden rush of light as he flicked on the switch. He took a moment to rest, his body aching. Then, he picked up the book Eric had given him. He devoured every page, every word, immersing himself in the principles of swordsmanship. He traced the diagrams with his finger, memorizing stances, understanding the subtle shifts in weight and balance. So absorbed was he that he didn't notice the hours slipping by, the training room windows turning dark with the arrival of night.
He didn't sleep. Instead, a renewed sense of purpose ignited within him. He switched off the lights, plunging the room back into darkness, and closed his eyes once more, envisioning the elusive orbs.
'Thrust isn't the only thing I can do!'
He returned to his stance, the katana feeling like an extension of his will. This time, he unleashed a torrent of slashes and thrusts, a whirlwind of motion so fast it seemed to tear at the air. Yet, even with this furious assault, the third orb remained untouched. He forced himself to remain calm, to breathe, to reset. After a focused breath, he unleashed another series of thrusts, lightning fast, pushing his body to its absolute limits.
'So it's absolute speed that conquers it!' he realized, a flicker of understanding igniting in his mind.
Woon braced himself, his gaze fixed on the fourth orb – a minuscule target, no bigger than a grain of rice, impossibly small and impossibly fast. He didn't falter. He unleashed his fastest lightning thrusts, a relentless barrage, but still, his blade found only empty air. He tried over and over, his trial-and-error repeating with grueling monotony. Slashing, thrusting, failing, resetting.
The cycle continued, a relentless dance with an invisible enemy, until the first rays of dawn pierced through the training room window. Woon clicked on the lights, the sudden illumination revealing the floor glistening with an overflowing pool of sweat. His body was a symphony of aches, but a fierce satisfaction burned in his chest.
"Ahhh, it's hard, but I'm getting a hang of it!" he gasped, a tired grin spreading across his face.
He cleaned himself up, changing into fresh clothes Ron had lent him. Then, without a moment's hesitation, he returned to the book, studying every crucial detail, etching it into his memory.
'Be water,' he read, 'and be adaptable.'