Zeke, who had been blasted into the sky by Mao last night, finally returned just before dawn.
Apparently, he had been sent flying an absurdly long distance—well, he deserved it.
As the sun began to rise and the world brightened, everyone woke up around the same time.
Everyone except Zeke, who tried to go back to sleep… until Mao yanked him upright.
We rekindled the campfire and began preparing breakfast.
“By the way,” Rigan asked, “you said you’d train us. When does training actually start?”
Good question, Rigan.
I’d been traveling with them for four days, but since I wasn’t originally part of their journey, I didn’t want to intrude.
I’d just been watching their battles from the sidelines.
Truthfully, I wanted proper training too… but I didn’t know how to ask.
I planned to ride on Rigan’s question when Zeke suddenly spoke.
“Well, just watching Mao and I fight should be enough to learn from. Train yourselves with the mindset that there’s always someone stronger.”
He said this while munching a banana.
He simply didn’t want to train us.
Unbelievable—he’s the one who insisted on bringing Rigan along.
“You promised to take responsibility for their training!” Mao barked.
Dark energy flickered around her right hand, and sweat ran down Zeke’s forehead.
“Hmmm…”
Zeke thought for a while.
Training is annoying, but if he acts irresponsible again, Mao might blast him into orbit a second time.
He was clearly searching for the easiest solution.
“Sigh… fine. I did say I’d handle it.”
He gave up.
“You two—can either of you use magic?”
“I cannot use magic at all,” I answered.
“My father was a royal court magician, but he died in a magical explosion caused by his own research.
So I chose the path of the sword, swearing never to depend on magic.”
“I’ve never tried using magic either,” Rigan added.
“Magic is just a shortcut. I want to become the strongest using my spear and body alone.”
“Ohhh? So the brats don’t want to learn magic? How picky…”
Zeke scratched his head.
“Well… in that case—oh! Wait here.”
He rummaged through his belongings and pulled out two bracelets.
“Both of you, put these on.”
We did as instructed.
Immediately, a heavy, draining sensation washed over us—like our strength was being sucked out.
“Wh-what is this…?”
“A cursed bracelet!” Zeke cackled.
This jerk…
I felt anger bubbling inside me.
“With those on, you’ll constantly feel intense lethargy.
Train as usual under that condition, and the results will be tremendous.
Once I decide you’re ready, I’ll remove them.
Until then, NEVER take them off. Got it?”
Annoying as he was, he had a point.
Training under that crushing fatigue might strengthen both body and mind.
Reluctantly, Rigan and I nodded.
“Alright, let’s start training.
Meow, help me out.”
“Don’t call me Meow!
I’m MUCH older than all of you!”
She marched over, still pouting.
One glance at our bracelets and her eyes widened.
“Zeke! These are—!”
Of course she’d be shocked—these were cursed items.
Zeke grinned wickedly.
“Chris, Rigan—put on these blindfolds and turn your backs to Mao.
Mao, silently generate any attribute of magic in your hand.
You two must guess what kind of magic she used.”
We followed his instructions and faced away from her.
“Alright, let’s begin. Mao, you’re up.”
I focused every nerve on sensing her presence—
any sound, shift in the air, or change in temperature.
…Nothing.
“Well? Did you guys figure it out?” Zeke asked.
“Not at all,” Rigan replied.
“What kind of training is this anyway?”
“This teaches you to sense your opponent without relying on sight,” Zeke explained.
“Feel their movements.
Imagine the attack the instant it forms.
It’s all about the mental image!”
I see…
Even so, neither of us guessed correctly once that day.
Then came the next training session:
staring at scenery.
“Listen,” Zeke said, “don’t empty your mind.
Feel nature.
The color and heat of the campfire,
the strength and sound of the wind,
its scent,
the sky’s blue,
the sun’s warmth—
sense all of it.”
Then he made the dumbest blank expression I’ve ever seen and stared off into space.
How is THIS training…?
Later, this bizarre “just stare at things” session repeated several times.
While descending the mountain, we’d reach a river—so we stared at the river.
Reach the plains—stared at the grass.
If this could make someone strong, the world would be full of unstoppable warriors.
He just likes slacking off.
This isn’t training—it’s his hobby.
“Hey, Chris,” Zeke said.
“You’re distracted. Enjoy the scenery more. Feel nature.”
He insisted it was training, so we reluctantly complied.
To be continued…
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