On his way to the base's dojos, Ethan mentally reviews his new gear. Tinker gave him a new plate carrier and four Ether-reinforced plates. For short range, Ethan got a suppressed .300 Blackout Honey Badger and the Glock. He took the HK417 for medium range and a suppressed AX50 sniper rifle for long range. Tinker laughed when Ethan asked for an anti-tank rocket launcher but still gave him a Panzerfaust 3 with five rockets.
He practices summoning the weapons, imprinting their image in his mind to reduce call time. The hardest, taking a second more, is the Honey Badger. It seems to Ethan that his unfamiliarity with the platform is to blame.
As he reaches the dojos, he succeeds in reducing the rifle's summon time to that of his DMR. It makes him ponder if the people who can't see objects with their minds are unable to use Inventory or haversacks. Does someone who didn't train to imagine in detail need minutes to summon an item? He shakes his head to clear his thoughts as he nears the door.
Ethan looks through the one-way mirror door of the dojo, confirming that the instructor is alone. He opens it, entering the dojo at the edge of its mirror wall.
"You are late," the instructor says. He keeps his back turned to Ethan, his eyes on the opposite wall. He's dressed in a blue kimono, with a black belt around his waist.
"How can I be late when I wasn't given a specific time for our rendezvous?" Ethan retorts. He dodges as a training knife flies in his direction, bending out of its path.
"No excuses in my class," the man says. He turns around, revealing the face of an aging Caucasian man with short white hair and a beard. His black belt sports eight golden stripes alongside Japanese characters. He's muscled for his age; his physique would rather paint him as forty years old. "You've never trained with me before, have you?"
"No," Ethan answers. "Four has overseen my training two decades ago."
"Your teacher is a remarkable fighter; I hope he made you one as well," the instructor says. He approaches, keeping perfect balance in his motion. "Show me what you learned."
Ethan casts a debilitating hex on himself, reducing his own strength to not kill the man. The instructor launches a front kick aimed at Ethan's torso. Ethan pivots and deflects the kick with his forearm, countering with a low sweep at the man's planted leg. The instructor moves out and then back in, avoiding the sweep.
The man sends a series of rapid jabs. Ethan counters with blocks and redirections, targeting joints. Seeing an opening, Ethan throws a punch at the instructor's chin. It connects; the man rolls his entire body to absorb the shock, simultaneously trapping and twisting Ethan's arm into a lock.
Ethan rolls with it, dropping low and twisting out of the hold. He sends a sharp knee towards the instructor's ribs. The man absorbs the blow with his hand and counters with a sweeping leg kick, forcing Ethan to stagger back.
"Impressive adaptability," the instructor says. He transitions into a boxing stance, his feet dancing as he sends rapid-fire strikes. Ethan matches him, bobbing, weaving, and parrying the chain punches. The man praises, "Your reflexes are leagues above human capabilities."
The instructor shifts to unpredictable, acrobatic movements. His entire body twists and turns, creating a powerful momentum for leg kicks. Ethan adjusts, focusing on intercepting the instructor mid-motion.
The instructor sweeps towards Ethan's legs. Ethan backflips to evade, delivering a spinning heel kick. The blow hits the instructor's shoulder, dislocating it.
"Good," the instructor says. He stands up straight, signaling the end of their spar. Grabbing his arm, he slams his shoulder back in place. "I saw Krav Maga, Muay Thai, boxing, and Taekwondo in your style. Four taught you well."
"Unarmed Combat leveled up (x5)," the system announces.
"He taught me how to kill; the rest I learned in gyms around the world and from my opponents," Ethan says. He releases his hex to restore his strength.
"But I never told you to restrain yourself with your ability," the man reprimands. He rolls his shoulder, testing his muscles and tendons. "What made you think I couldn't handle your full strength?"
'Is he serious, or is it ego?' Ethan ponders.
Ether rushes into the man as he breathes in deep, abilities feeding it to his muscles and skin. He falls into a karate stance, ready to strike forward. He taunts, "Come at me with everything you have. I will not vouch for your return to active duty otherwise."
"Don’t die," Ethan commands. He draws in Ether, draining the threads of the room and causing those outside to rush in in replacement. With Strengthening, he goes above his soft limits, tensing his clothes as he grows.
The instructor strikes first, his movements orders of magnitude faster. A powerful front kick shoots toward Ethan's chest. Ethan vanishes before the blow connects, bending and lifting the tatamis as he moves behind the man.
Ethan loosens his body, melting away any tension. He shifts for One's style, delivering a whip-like kick that uses the entire body. His shoe breaks the sound barrier before stopping a centimeter away from the instructor's head. Ethan asks, "Satisfied?"
Only the man's eyes had time to move before Ethan's kick stopped. He relaxes his stance, straightening up as he silently admits his defeat. He comments, "This is a terrifying gap in strength and speed. How high are your characteristics?"
"Thirty-four, twenty-three, and thirty-two for strength, dexterity, and constitution," Ethan answers. "On top of that, I used an ability – D-ranked Strengthening – to boost my strength."
"This is indeed a sizable gap," the instructor mutters. "Then I can only help you with technique. I fear only One could be a proper sparring partner for you."
"I don't know where he is at the moment; it has been some time since our last spar," Ethan says. He glances at the dulled blades held on one of the walls. "But there is something you could help me with. …I need to improve my swordsmanship. The other world's weapons are medieval, and yet they are better than our guns to deal with powerful monsters."
The instructor approaches the blades and takes two long swords. He tosses one to Ethan, who catches it by the handle. It feels light in his grip, kilos under Phantom Reaver. He restores his hex, dulling his strength.
The instructor steps forward, the tip of his blade darting towards Ethan's thigh. Ethan sidesteps and counters with a diagonal slash aimed at the instructor's shoulder. The older man deflects with a circular motion, redirecting Ethan's blade to the side while stepping inside his guard.
Ethan disengages, stepping out of reach. He retaliates with a rapid series of thrusts. The instructor deflects each one, his blade moving slower but with fluidity.
"Good," the instructor says. He moves away from Ethan, creating a large gap between them. "It's evident that you are self-taught. You must have used swords quite a lot in recent months. But there is something that feels wrong. You do not see your blade as an extension of your own body. You're too stiff and controlling with it, and as a result it lacks fluidity."
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"One of my opponents said something along the lines," Ethan says. He spins his blade, trying to relax as he does with One's style. It feels unnatural, as if the blade threatened to slip away at any moment.
The instructor moves to the wall of weapons. He places his longsword back and grabs a katana. "Four once told me of your style – violent and instinctive. It's clear you became more level-headed with the years. I think I know a peculiar sword style you could learn from."
"Japanese, I guess," Ethan says. He waits for it but hears no announcements from the system.
"I learned it from a previous One, a descendant of a long line of swordsmen, dating back centuries," the instructor says. "It holds violence as the end goal, to overwhelm and terrify the enemy."
The instructor grips the katana with practiced ease. He falls into a warrior stance, his eyes falling on Ethan as his breathing slows. "This style is not bound by tradition or honor. It's a style born to dominate. Watch closely."
Ethan falls into the same stance. The instructor strikes. It's instantaneous – a forward dash so fast Ethan barely answers. Ethan moves back; he counters with a lateral slash aimed to disarm. The instructor sidesteps with a minimal shift, twisting to deliver a retaliatory diagonal slash. The two blades clash, the katana's arc breaking Ethan's guard.
"You hesitate," the instructor remarks. He comes back with an upward slash, narrowly missing Ethan's eye. "This style demands commitment in every motion. A half-hearted, controlling slash is the same as forfeiting your life."
Ethan grits his teeth. His body reacts to the instructor's bloodlust, beckoning Ethan to give in to the thrill of battle. Ethan deflects one of the instructor's strikes and counters with a thrust at the abdomen. The old man twists his body, evading, and retaliates with a spinning slash aimed at Ethan's flank.
The dulled katana crashes into Ethan's rib. They break and restore their stances for another round. Ethan inhales deeply, centering himself. The thrill of combat pulses through his veins. His lips curl into a faint grin, the enjoyment of a genuine challenge overtaking him. He adjusts his grip, the long sword feeling lighter and more connected to his body as he gives in to the thrill.
Ethan steps forward with a downward slash. It is simple, and yet the instructor leaps back. The man comments, "Good. You stopped holding back; this blow was perfect in its execution. What's left is perfecting your technique. You must outplay your opponent three strikes in advance; leave him only one way to answer your overwhelming strikes."
The instructor comes back to Ethan. The clash intensifies. Their strikes grow faster, Ethan's movements smoother, each blow flowing into the next. The instructor meets him blow by blow, his blade moving in precise arcs. Ethan's technique improves, soon matching the instructor's impeccable moves.
They break, the instructor dripping with steaming sweat. Ethan's clothes stick to him, equally drenched as his debilitating hex takes a toll.
"Melee Weapon (Long Sword) leveled up (x5)," the system announces. "You leveled up."
'Did I continue amassing experience despite being locked by my skill level?' Ethan ponders. He lowers his sword as a gray window pops up in front of him.
Skill ascension: Melee Weapon (Long Sword)
You reached the highest possible level of this skill. You may ascend it to unlock new heights your body and mind aren't yet capable of.
Because of your talent (Shared martial skill ascension), the following skills will be ascended:
Melee Weapon (long sword)
Melee Weapon (short sword)
Melee Weapon (great sword)
Melee Weapon (saber)
Do you want to ascend: Melee Weapon (Long Sword) ?
YES NO
"What is this?" the instructor asks.
"It says I can ascend my swordsmanship because I reached level a hundred with the longsword. I guess you didn't see it yet," Ethan says.
"Level ninety-nine; maybe soon," the instructor says.
'There doesn't seem to be a cost to it,' Ethan thinks. 'But why would it ask me if there wasn't? Is there a limit to the number of skills I can ascend?'
"Are you going to try it?" the instructor asks.
'Even if there is a limit, I should strive to perfect my swordsmanship. If Caelum is anything like Aranthor, that's how I'll end up fighting him.' Ethan presses the 'YES' button and the window vanishes.
"You obtained the Ascended skill – Melee weapon (long sword) title. You obtained the Ascended skill – Melee weapon (short sword) title. You obtained the Ascended skill – Melee weapon (great sword) title. You obtained the Ascended skill – Melee weapon (saber) title. Four characteristic points have been granted."
"How does it feel?" the instructor asks.
"I gained a characteristic point for each ascended skill," Ethan says. He holds his blade in front of him, eager to try it out. "Ready?"
The instructor comes at him with a downward slash. Ethan doesn't respond, his mind going blank as he tries to think of a counter. His sword falls to the ground, and the katana strikes him on the head.
"Adding the Ascended - Melee Weapon (Long sword) skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 0 has been applied."
"I get to mold your swordsmanship back from scraps," the instructor quips. He breaks away and falls back into his warrior stance. "I'd say that's a blessing in disguise."
Ethan slips out of the gym's shower. They trained for eight hours and brought back his long sword level to sixty. But, both exhausted, they were unable to raise it above that. The instructor was offered to ascend, but he refused. He will wait to train another in all his techniques, so he may learn them back once he loses his knowledge.
The gym is almost empty; only one Gravekeeper is present, benching three hundred kilos. An overhead clock shows midnight. Ethan wonders how much he could lift at maximum strength, but he feels too drained to try. Besides, he doubts even Olympic barbell bars could handle the weight.
Dressed in clean gym clothes, he steps outside into the base's secret corridors. Like the gym, they are devoid of activity. He passes a checkpoint to the administrative sector and taps on the control room's door.
"Enter," a woman answers through an interphone. Ethan pushes the door to find Cypher looking up at him from behind her screens. He remembered her as older looking. She nears her sixties as her graying hair shows, and yet her face makes her look two decades younger.
Tombstone is at her own desk, sleeping before her locked six screens. Her back rises slightly as she breathes.
"She had a lot of sleep to catch up on," Cypher says. Even her voice sounds younger than Ethan remembers. She grabs a steaming cup of coffee from her desk to take a sip; it bears an obscure coding joke. "She didn't rest much these past weeks."
"Something to cover up?" Ethan asks.
Cypher rolls her eyes and lets out a sigh. "What are you, dense? She was worried about you."
"I've been in the hospital eight times, three of which I was in a coma for, one longer than this one," Ethan whispers. He grabs Tombstone's coat and places it over her to keep her warm. "I thought she would be used to it by now."
"Maybe if you come back to life a few more times," Cypher says. She tilts her head and mimics Tombstone's voice. "Ethan is in a coma? That's nothing. Don't bother me unless he's dead."
"You seem energetic today," Ethan comments. He steps away from Tombstone, using Silent steps to not wake her up.
"Constitution and charisma make you look and feel younger," Cypher says. She refills her cup from a brewer installed at the corner of her desk. "I can finally drink coffee all day and night without my heart freaking out."
"That's good, …I guess," Ethan mutters. He leans on the door of a server rack beside her. "I wanted to ask her if we had clothes to blend in with the other world. I need to go back."
"Same place as the dyes, masks, and costumes," Cypher says. She takes another sip from her cup. "But you would have tried that already if it wasn't an excuse to come see her."
"You are reading too much into it, Cypher," Ethan says. That woman is always messing with someone about their emotional life. Ethan dodged her for months once she learned of Kate and him. The casual nature of their relationship somehow gave her the goal to puppeteer their love lives. "I wanted to say goodbye; I'll be leaving for some time."
"Contracts are piling up," Cypher comments. She displays a long list of target packages on a screen. "With only One, Two, and Three for the most dangerous missions and the flood of new targets, we are getting short-staffed."
"I may be retiring after that journey; you'll be able to name another Reaper," Ethan retorts. "Maybe you should name another one anyway if there is so many contracts."
"Do you have the slightest idea how much work it is to cover up for one of you?" Cypher asks. She closes down the target packages and turns towards him. "I hope you get him. Twenty years is a long time."
"So long I almost gave up on it," Ethan says. He moves away from Cypher's desk and approaches Tombstone's. Sliding off his own ring of protection, he places it down on the desk. "Tell her I said goodbye. I don't know when I'll be able to come back, but I'll try to keep her updated."
"I will," Cypher says. "Now shoo; fuck off to the other world; I have work to do."