A week later…
Missio lived in the war simulation for an entire week straight. With the technological advancements of the Modern Age, he was able to fully grasp the chaos of the battlefield. Using neuromodulation, the pod used the visor attached to his head to replicate the exact sensations he felt in game by sending low-current electric signals into his pain receptors. Though, it was painful – it helped him master Sempiterne Swordsmanship quickly.
In the simulation, Missio tore through the battlefield like a demon. He cut down several enemies in one precise motion. His footwork, his technique, his breathing – everything had been honed to perfection. Through this, his fear of pain had been overcome as well. He was no longer afraid to get hurt, making his attacks bolder than before. He spun his weapon in all directions, bathing it in blood.
From above, the trio of Dante, Bellum and Victor watched Missio tear through the battlefield like a demon.
"He's… a prodigy." Bellum was left speechless.
"It's been a week and he's already mastered Form 4 and 5." Dante smiled.
"Looks like he also isn't afraid of being hit any more… his PTSD hasn't triggered at all." Victor rubbed his chin.
"I told you." Dante pointed at Victor. "Fear will become dull if you experience it enough times."
"I need to up my thinking of him…" Victor commented. "He's not the same boy as before."
They continued to chat, watching Missio with awe. Eventually, he cleared the battle without any injuries. He stood atop a mountain of corpses as the soldiers cheered from below. Bellum flew down, meeting Missio's gaze. He snapped his fingers. The war simulation shook violently. A blue light swept through the world, transforming it into a gray plane once again. Missio landed. Bellum, Dante and Victor touched the ground as well.
"Good job." Bellum said. "You've fully mastered Form 4 and 5. Your Constans Fluxus Breathing is also almost perfect."
"Then? What's next?" Missio inquired as the sword dissolved into blue light.
"Form 6: Typhoon." Bellum slid his fingers through his white hair. "But let's do it on the beach.
Missio flicked his chin up. "Sure."
***
Missio's meta pod unlatched, releasing cold air from within. The visor escaped his head and returned to its previous position. A sudden headache struck Missio like thunder. He groaned, sitting straight. His skull throbbed with pain, veins pulsing on his forehead. He blinked – the world bled into another dimension. His mind spun in circles – he felt lightheaded – his vision blurred. The next second, his vision returned to normal. He gasped for air, lowering his head.
"Fucking hell…" Missio complained under his breath.
He rested on the soft mattress of the pod for a few seconds. Then, He stepped onto the floor of the facility. He glanced to his left; the others had already left their pods. Dante noticed he had left his pod and waved.
"Come one, let's get going to the beach."
Missio approached the group, rubbing his forehead. "In a minute… my head is killing me…"
"The simulation really did a number on you." Victor chuckled, crossings his arms.
"It did…" Missio groaned.
"The neuromodulation is especially realistic." Dante chuckled. "You should've turned it down a bit."
"That was an option…?" Missio frowned.
"Duh." Dante blurted.
"Man… It was a pain in the ass for Pangea's sake…"
"Yeah, it was a pain in the ass…" Bellum chuckled, turning to Missio. "You finished yet?"
Missio heaved a sigh of relief. "Yeah… let's go."
Bellum smirked, spinning around. Dante stepped forward, leading the group. Bellum and Victor followed behind. Missio trailed them as they headed towards the exit. The group left the meta pods facility and headed off to the beach. Dante wore his cream shirt and green trousers. Bellum wore a red shirt with black trousers. Victor wore blue shorts with blue graphic shirt. Missio wore a green shirt with dark trousers. All strolled through Monterosso al Mare until they reached the beach.
Once they touched the sandy surface, Bellum took in the fresh air.
"Alright…" he turned towards Missio. "Form 6."
"I'm listening." Missio raised his arm, creating a longsword in his hand.
Bellum paused. "Why are you creating another longsword? Don't you already have one?"
Missio froze. He stared at the sword that he created.
"Shit." He scowled. "Now, we have three…"
"Forget it." Dante waved. "I can add that to our weaponry."
Missio swiveled his head, locking eyes with his brother.
"We have a weaponry?"
"Yeah, dude." Dante chuckled. "I'll show you later."
"Okay…" Missio turned to his master.
The birds chirped in a rhythmic manner as Dante and Victor sat down. Bellum raised his arms, taking in a deep breath. Water washed over the shore, wetting the sand as Bellum spoke.
"Form 6… Typhoon. Horizontal, diagonal and vertical strikes that continuously loop into one another to form an invisible barrier around you. This form is meant for offensive defense, to protect yourself while pressuring the enemy nonstop."
Missio itched his head. "So… basically, maintaining your distance while keeping your enemy at bay?"
"This is Sempiterne Swordsmanship, boy. Can't you see the problem?" Bellum scoffed. "We follow the philosophy that if you stop moving, you give your opponent a chance to counter. Be unpredictable, be crazy, become a terror. We will keep moving, using our attacks to create a sort of death zone around us. It's the same as Restless."
"Wait…" Missio suddenly understood. "So, when you flow one attack into another, at breakneck speeds, you're… oh…."
"See? You get it! Now… I'll demonstrate." Bellum grinned, unsheathing his katana.
Missio nodded. He wiped the sweat off his face as his master exhaled heavily. Bellum engaged his core, using Constans Fluxus Breathing. He entered Form 6 – Typhoon. He moved swiftly. His sword danced around him a disco ball. Bellum swung down diagonally. He flicked his wrist and turned it into a horizontal slash. He stepped forward, spinning around like a turbine. He rotated a full 360 degrees while attacking. He synced his breathing to his attacks.
Missio monitored Bellum closely with his enhanced vision. He saw it – the continuous motion. Bellum never froze – not for a moment. Each movement was as precise and as efficient as possible. One attack flowed into another like a river flowing from the mountains down to the plains. The commander furrowed his brows, increasing his speed. His katana cut through the air at breakneck speeds. An invisible shield of slashes formed around him.
Missio's jaw dropped slightly. He saw a flaw in Bellum's movement. He found more and more until he surprised himself.
'He's pressing too firmly on the ground. This is sand, he needs to adjust his footwork… he's putting too much stress on his wrist, he needs to move his shoulders more… wait, how the fuck am I finding flaws in a saint??'
His eye twitched as Bellum finished performing Typhoon. The commander drew a deep breath, wiping the sweat off his forehead.
"Did you get it…?"