By the end, Moon was huffing and puffing, sweat dripping, his muscles burning. It was a humbling, valuable reminder of where his true strength lay.
He could kill Surpassers, yes, but only when he brought his full arsenal to use. Stripped down to pure physical combat and swordsmanship alone, he was still powerful, but not at the Surpasser level.
Against the Beast Soul's raw physical prowess and mastery, he had to work for every exchange, his magic the great equalizer that bridged the gap.
It was good to know his limits clearly. Good to keep training the foundation rather than relying solely on his flashy techniques. A fighter who leaned entirely on their trump cards grew brittle when those cards were unavailable.
He recalled the Beast Soul, wiping sweat from his brow, and glanced at the time.
"Already five in the morning," he muttered. "I should sleep for a couple of hours at least. Got a lot to do tomorrow."
