Ray exhaled, his breath steady as he crouched behind a jagged outcropping of the labyrinth’s shifting walls. His muscles tensed, poised for action. Just a few meters ahead, a dormant beast—monster class, judging by its size—sniffed at the air, its grotesque frame twitching with predatory instinct. The flickering bioluminescent fungi above cast eerie shadows across the creature’s misshapen form.

  He adjusted his grip on the chokutō, his fingers tightening around the bandage-wrapped hilt. Every hunt was a test, and each victory brought him closer to awakening. His body had absorbed nearly all the soul essence it could hold, but he still hadn’t reached the threshold. He needed more.

  The beast shifted, lowering its stance. It senses me.

  Ray moved first.

  A blur of motion—his blade slicing through the air. The beast reacted, jerking sideways at the last moment, but Ray had anticipated the dodge. He pivoted mid-strike, adjusting his angle, and his sword found its mark. A clean cut across its throat. Dark ichor sprayed as the creature gurgled, collapsing into a heap.

  Ray didn’t hesitate. He knelt, driving his hand into the beast’s cooling flesh, searching. His fingers wrapped around something smooth and solid, and he pulled free a soul fragment—pulsing faintly, still warm from the creature’s fading life. He stared at it, feeling the familiar rush of energy seep into him as he crushed it, absorbing its essence.

  Still not enough.

  Ray sighed, wiping his blade clean before turning back toward their shelter. Alkan should be in the middle of his own training.

  Back at their camp, Alkan stood in the center of the cavern, sword raised. His stance was steady, but there was tension in his posture, a stiffness that hadn’t been there before his injuries. He exhaled slowly, his remaining arm trembling slightly as he adjusted his grip.

  Then, he moved.

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  A fluid step forward—blade slashing in a precise arc. His footwork remained solid, his technique sharp. But there was something missing. A hesitation in his movements, an unconscious resistance.

  Alkan stopped, clicking his tongue in frustration. Still not enough.

  He had spent years refining his skill, but now, with his sight gone and his body weaker, he was forced to start over. His future sight allowed him to react just in time, but reaction alone wasn’t enough. He needed to move instinctively, without relying on glimpses of what was about to happen.

  He heard Ray approach and lowered his sword. "How was the hunt?"

  "Got one." Ray sat down, leaning against the wall. "Nothing special."

  Alkan nodded. "Then let’s spar."

  Ray raised an eyebrow. "You sure? You still don’t have full control over your movements."

  A smirk tugged at Alkan’s lips. "Then I better start learning, right?"

  The clash of steel echoed through the cavern as Ray and Alkan circled each other. Ray moved first, his chokutō slicing through the air in a measured strike. Alkan deflected it with ease, his blade twisting in a fluid counter. Ray barely managed to avoid the follow-up, sidestepping just in time.

  He’s still faster than me.

  Ray gritted his teeth, adjusting his approach. He wasn’t just fighting an opponent—he was fighting a veteran swordsman who had been honing his craft for decades. Even weakened, even blind, Alkan was still leagues ahead in experience.

  But Ray was getting faster.

  Another exchange—Ray feinted left before twisting his wrist, bringing the blade upward in a sharp angle. Alkan blocked it with an effortless parry, stepping back just enough to reset his stance.

  "You’re improving," Alkan admitted. "Your movements are sharper."

  Ray exhaled, lowering his sword slightly. "Still not good enough, though."

  "Not yet," Alkan agreed. "But soon."

  Ray had always been quick to learn. What should have taken years had taken mere months. And Alkan was beginning to notice just how unnatural that progress was.

  After their sparring session, Ray sat cross-legged, his eyes shut. He focused inward, feeling the faint stir of soul essence within him. Move it. Control it.

  He inhaled slowly, trying to direct the flow of energy within his body. It was like trying to grasp smoke—intangible, constantly slipping away before he could contain it. But he was getting closer.

  Alkan watched from the side, observing the slow, steady rise and fall of Ray’s breathing. It shouldn’t be this fast.

  The process of taming soul essence should take years, not months. And yet, Ray was on the verge of awakening already. Alkan had spent most of his life training and barely reached his own awakening. But Ray?

  Alkan frowned. He learns too fast. Adapts too quickly.

  Something about him wasn’t normal. But whatever it was, Alkan knew one thing for certain:

  Ray wouldn’t stay a dormant human for much longer.