I sat cross-legged on the cold stone floor, closing my eyes and listening—not to the dungeon, not to the hum of energy beneath my skin, but to myself. Every breath was deliberate, slow, grounding. My chest rose and fell in rhythm with my heartbeat, each inhale and exhale drawing me inward, forcing me to face the chaos inside my mind.
"Focus," Notice said softly. "Control thought, control emotion. The body follows the mind."
I tried. The first moments were chaos. Memories of the boss, the mini-boss, the near-misses—the adrenaline, the pain, the fear—they all surged at once, threatening to drown me. My chest tightened, hands shook, and sweat prickled my forehead. Panic whispered that I couldn't do this, that I wasn't ready, that I would fail.
But I forced it aside. I breathed. One breath. Two breaths. Each one slower than the last. The heartbeat in my ears softened to a steady rhythm. Thoughts began to settle, like stones sinking into still water. My limbs loosened, tension leaking from my shoulders and jaw. I was still trembling, but the tremor was no longer fear—it was focus, alive and raw.
Enhanced Perception hummed faintly beneath my skin, sensing the subtle vibrations in the room, the faintest shifts in air and energy. Rhythm pulsed gently in my chest, syncing with my own heartbeat, guiding thought and movement. Best Welder lay dormant, ready, a dormant current beneath my skin.
I began exercises Notice suggested: visualization, mental mapping, situational prediction. I imagined dungeons, enemy patterns, traps. I ran through scenarios in my mind, testing reactions, anticipating danger, measuring timing. My pulse raced, but differently—controlled, precise. Adrenaline sharpened rather than scattered me.
Fear came again, brief and sharp, whispering that I would fail. I acknowledged it, named it, and let it pass. It became part of the rhythm, a note in the melody of survival. Confidence began to grow—not arrogance, not reckless pride, but steady, tempered certainty. I could survive. I could adapt. I could learn.
Time passed—or maybe it didn't. Minutes, hours, moments blurred as I sank deeper into the mental discipline. When I finally opened my eyes, the dungeon seemed different. The air was thicker, heavier, alive with potential. I could feel my mind sharper, my focus clearer, my awareness stretching into every corner of the room.
"Good," Notice said, approval threading the voice. "Mental conditioning enhances all skills. Remember: the mind leads, the body follows."
I flexed my fingers experimentally, feeling the faint hum of Best Welder, the pulse of Rhythm, the edge of Enhanced Perception. My body was ready. My mind was ready.
And when the next dungeon came, I wouldn't just react—I would anticipate, adapt, and overcome.
Because I was Mizu. Broken once, yes—but learning, growing, mastering.