*Content Warning: This chapter contains mature themes, violence, blood, and morally dark actions. Reader discretion advised.*
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Six days had passed.
Six days of unrelenting, merciless training.
Leon had not eaten. He had not slept. He had done nothing but swing the sword from dawn until the stars blurred into streaks of light, and then through the darkness again. His body had become a vessel of pure will broken, rebuilt, and broken once more.
The old man continued his quiet daily rhythm: watering flowers, brewing tea from forest leaves, sweeping the wooden porch. Yet his sharp eyes never strayed far from the clearing. An expression of genuine disbelief lingered on his weathered face.
"Hoh… what a terrifying spirit this boy possesses," the old man murmured. "A normal person would have collapsed after three days. Yet he still stands. Still swings. And yet… there are things he has not yet noticed. Things far deeper than mere technique."
In the clearing, Leon's world had narrowed to the sword in his bloodied hands. His vision blurred at the edges. The skin on his palms had torn open long ago, raw flesh glistening under the sun. Fresh blood dripped with every swing, yet his arms refused to stop.
Is there any meaning to this? he thought, teeth clenched. The old man showed me all the forms of Celestial Edge Flow… so why? Why can't I perform them properly? Why does it feel… empty?
His next swing faltered. His body trembled violently. The world tilted. His mind, pushed far beyond its limits, finally surrendered. Leon collapsed onto the grass, sword slipping from his ruined grip.
The old man approached slowly, a faint smile of satisfaction on his lips.
"Good grief… he truly overexerted himself. Well, with injuries like that, it's a miracle he lasted this long. Rest now, Leon."
He lifted the unconscious boy onto his back with surprising ease and carried him inside. There, he prepared a bowl of green medicinal paste made from the leaves of ancient trees surrounding the house. With careful, practiced hands, he applied the cooling salve to every wound, then wrapped them in soft white cloth.
Two days passed in deep, healing sleep.
When Leon finally woke, he sat up in a daze, staring at the bandages covering his hands and arms.
"Huh…? Wasn't I training? Why am I lying here… and what is this cloth? It feels strange…"
The old man sat nearby, calmly sipping green tea brewed from the same forest leaves.
"Don't remove those wrappings. I don't have anything else to cover the wounds for now. Let them heal." He set the cup down gently. "Tell me, Leon… did you gain anything from pushing yourself like that?"
Leon remained silent for a long moment, staring down at his bandaged hands with uncertainty clouding his face.
"I… don't know what to say. After you showed me all the forms of Celestial Edge Flow, I was certain I could master them. No matter how long it took. But it seems… I was wrong."
The old man smiled faintly, eyes reflecting the steam rising from his tea.
"I don't know why you believed you could master anything in mere days, Leon. Everything requires patience. Swinging a sword and imitating forms does not mean you have performed them let alone mastered them. That is not how it works."
He rose, placed the empty cup on the windowsill, and sat back down.
"Leon… I know you are hiding a great deal of your power. I don't know why you held back during our duel. But hear this clearly you can never truly win with power that is borrowed from others. Even Celestial Edge Flow has its limits. Once you reach them, you will be unable to advance further. The truth is… neither you nor I can ever fully master that swordsmanship as it stands. If you truly wish to claim it, you must begin from the beginning. You must understand its principles."
Leon's eyes widened. The realization hit like a hammer. All those days of brutal training pushing his body until it broke had amounted to nothing? Frustration flickered across his face, raw and unguarded.
The old man's expression remained blank, yet his voice carried quiet weight.
"You don't have to feel angry. Instead, learn from it. The way of living is to take something from everything."
Leon said nothing. He simply lay back down as the old man stepped outside to gather more leaves for tea and medicine.
Alone in the room, Leon felt devastated. Was everything I did… in vain?
He sat up again, leaning his shoulder against the wall and gazing out the window. A cool breeze drifted in, carrying the fresh, earthy scent of the forest. The world outside was quiet birds resting, leaves rustling softly, no disturbance, no chaos. Only peace.
I think… I understand a little of what the old man meant, he thought. A borrowed power can never be truly mastered unless you grasp its principle. Does that mean all the techniques I took from the God of Lightning… everything I copied… is only half-complete? I haven't truly mastered any of them.
A small, bitter smile touched his lips as he rested his head on his hand.
"Hm… it's not so bad. Starting from zero again. Just like the old man said relying on borrowed power will never let me win. No matter how strong the technique, its effectiveness and efficiency will always be limited. I can only grow stronger if I understand the meaning behind the power itself. I was too arrogant… and because of that, I pitied myself for training hard and gaining nothing. But now… I've found another path. And I will walk it to the very end."
Author's Note:
Hello there, readers. It's been a while — four or five months, I think. I can't remember exactly. There were many personal things I had to handle, but what really stopped me was realizing I wasn't improving. In that time, I studied more about novels and writing. Now I'm back, and I swear I will make Throne Beyond the Veil one of the best. Thank you for waiting.