For the next two weeks, I threw myself into training.
Fifteen hours a day, every single day.
And yet, despite all that effort, I had barely scratched the surface of the circulation technique I learned from Michael.
You'd think it would be easy for .
After all, I played the ga.
I understood this technique down to its smallest details — how it worked, why it worked, its every hidden function.
But as I had co to learn, reality was nothing like a ga.
Knowing how it functioned was one thing.
Mastering it was a whole different struggle.
As I've said before, Michael's Essence Circulation Technique — the one granted to him by the Sixth Demon Prince himself, Xaldreth — was special in many ways.
One of its most defining features was that it allowed C-rank Awakened to mimic the effects of Essence Manipulation, refining their bodies and enhancing their physical prowess like B-rankers could.
But the emphasis here was on the word 'mimic'.
It wasn't true Essence Manipulation.
What I was doing wasn't the sa as a B-rank Awakened instinctively guiding Essence with a thought.
That kind of mastery wasn't sothing I — or anyone at my rank — could achieve naturally.
Michael's technique didn't grant that control. Instead, it tricked my body into adaptation, forcing it to act as though it had already reached the next stage.
By looping one of my Essence Pathways through the solar plexus — where an Awakened's Essence Pool was — and running it through the diaphragm, the technique allowed to circulate Essence through my body using breath alone.
That loop then connected to another cycle passing through my heart, rging into my bloodstream and veins, distributing Essence to every part of my body.
It was a self-reinforcing cycle. Breathe in, draw Essence, feed it into the bloodstream, and refine the body through movent.
A perfect, continuous flow.
And when I moved, the muscles needed to execute that movent would naturally contract and expand, pushing the circulating Essence deeper into the fibers and further enhancing my physical abilities.
For example, if I willed to run, my leg muscles would instinctively pull in more Essence than the rest of my body, granting an imdiate surge of speed and strength.
If I threw a punch, Essence would flood into my arm and reinforce it at the mont of impact.
All I had to do was will it, and my body would take care of the rest. Kind of. I was simplifying the whole process a lot.
The only condition was that I had to keep my breathing steady. No matter what.
Even if I was punched or stabbed.
Even if I was on the verge of collapse.
It didn't matter. If my breath wavered, the cycle would break.
So, I just had to breathe.
Sounds simple, right?
Well, it was.
…In theory.
In practice, it was absolute hell.
For starters, my ridians weren't built to handle this kind of strain. My lungs felt like they were being crushed every ti I tried to force the circulation faster.
My heart pounded erratically, struggling to keep up.
More than once, I nearly blacked out mid-training, my vision swimming as Essence rampaged through my body like an untad river, wild and uncontrollable.
It was brutal.
But the rewards were undeniable.
My reflexes were sharper. My stamina lasted longer. My blows carried more weight. I wasn't just getting stronger. It felt like I was evolving.
But I still had a long way to go.
It made sense.
It took Michael four to five months to master this technique completely. With the help of his specially brewed Mindscape Drug, he had all the ti in the world to train
I didn't have that luxury.
I had barely two weeks before I assud Juliana would try to make her final move.
And when that happened, I'd have to act.
…And kill Instructor Rexerd Cronwell.
—Fwoosh!!
I was forced to snap out of my thoughts just in ti to see a long, blunt practice sword hurtling toward my head.
Reacting almost instantly, I jumped back a few steps and tunneled my vision.
I was in a private training hall, reserved for alone.
My opponent was a chanical combat doll — fancy words for a robot programd to fight.
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It wielded a practice steel longsword and moved with the precision of a seasoned swordsman.
I myself was holding a pair of identical single-edged practice swords in my hands.
Yes, I was dual-wielding. Or trying to, at least.
I usually preferred to fight barehanded since my ability worked better that way. But now that I had Aurieth in my possession, I thought it was finally ti I should start honing my swordsmanship.
And don't even get started on archery. I had barely held a bow in my life. That was another skill I needed to work on. A lot.
—Thakk!!
The combat doll lunged forward, slashing toward my midsection.
I raised my swords to intercept — only to realize a second too late that it was a feint.
The mont my blades t its longsword, the doll twisted its wrists and disengaged with unnatural speed. Its footwork was flawless as it slipped past my defenses like a veteran duelist.
Then, it struck again by executing a downward chop aid at my shoulder.
I barely whirled away in ti.
The blade sliced through the air, missing by an inch — close enough that I felt the displaced wind against my neck.
I clicked my tongue. These combat dolls were annoying. Their movents were thodical, their articles were calculated, and yet, their attacks were… lifeless.
They were flawless.
But they weren't perfect.
They lacked instinct.
The combat doll went for another attack — thrusting its sword straight toward my gut.
But instead of retreating, I pounced forward and sidestepped just enough to let the blade graze past .
The mont I was within range, I willed Essence into my shoulder and slamd against the doll's torso like a battering ram.
It staggered. Just a little. Just enough.
I plunged one of my blades into its tallic thigh and let go of it.
In the sa motion, I whipped my hand up and let my fingers wrap around its throat. Applying pressure, I crushed it in the blink of an eye.
The doll tried to stab in the side, but it was too late. Its alloy neck caved like brittle wood as I drove my remaining sword into its chest.
Sparks burst as its body convulsed. Its limbs looked like they were glitching — until finally, the single glowing red dot on its faceless head dimd.
I let go and the combat doll collapsed to the floor, its head twisted at an unnatural angle.
I exhaled slowly, rolling my shoulders.
My sword was still not fast enough.
My technique was still not sharp enough.
If this had been a real opponent — a human, a beast, or heaven forbid, Juliana — I wouldn't have had the luxury of trading blows.
I needed to be faster. Deadlier.
I glanced down at my hands and felt the Essence still continue to thrum under my skin, making my body feel lighter and stronger.
Sure, I had to admit that I was improving. And fast.
Michael's technique was already proving invaluable. It was worth the trouble to get it.
To be honest, I was surprised he actually stuck to his word and taught so easily. I half-expected him to pull sothing stupid.
But he didn't.
Maybe it was because he thought he was still getting the better end of our deal.
Which… wasn't exactly wrong.
He was getting two thousand Essence Stones from .
He only needed a little over half of them to rank up, and he could use the rest to brew all kinds of potions under Xaldreth's guidance.
And then there was the «Visual Link» Card — his ticket to learning a powerful Essence-based sword art from… you guessed it… Xaldreth.
Seriously, his Demonic Sword was a ridiculous cheat.
With just those two things, his strength was going to skyrocket in the near future.
So, he figured he could afford to toss a piece of the pie since he would have plenty left in the end.
And I had no problem with that.
In fact, I was thrilled. Because the stronger he got, the more problems I could throw his way for him to deal with instead of trying to solve them myself.
Willingly or not, Michael was my strongest pawn.
He was one of the key pieces I needed to reach a satisfactory ending. I was going to use him to pave the way for to defeat the Spirit King.
Besides, he needed too.
He wanted files, docunts, and books from the archives so he could investigate the disappearance of his parents.
Officially, his parents were presud dead after venturing into a Death-Zone in the Spirit Realm during a high-stakes mission.
But Michael didn't buy that story. He was convinced there was more to it than the authorities were telling him.
And he would be right.
But that wasn't my story to tell. Not yet.
"Fuu," exhaling deeply, I patted my face with a clean towel, then slipped out of my gym vest and track pants before changing into a fresh set of clothes.
As I turned to leave the training hall, my thoughts drifted back to my training.
The combat dolls were great and all… but they weren't giving a real challenge anymore.
And right now I was itching for a real fight.
Maybe it was ti to test my strength on living punching bags.
A small smirk crossed my lips as I pulled out my phone and texted Vince.
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