Chapter 13 A Step Forward (4)

This time, I decided to focus more seriously on honing the basics: strengthening, amplifying, and accelerating.

From an external perspective, it all looked like regular exercises, such as refining reactions to various combat situations like sudden attacks and their defense, shadow sparring, or katas. The only thing that set my training apart from what ordinary warriors could do was the transitions from normal speed to multiple times acceleration. It added a touch of spectacle, but not excessively so.

The true training was hidden from view.

For a spiritual warrior, it's crucial to know how to distribute their inner energy correctly. If you invest too little energy into acceleration, you become an easy target for your opponent. If it's in strength, your strikes suffer in power, and you need that strength for acceleration. Not strong enough? Welcome to the infirmary! In the best case scenario.

Of course, there were other abilities like controlling inertia or enhancing a blade's strength and super-cutting characteristics. But the foundation of a novice Adept was built upon the "triad," and most other abilities derived from it.

More experienced Adepts could slightly boost their strike, bodily fortitude, or attack/evade speed at the right moment during combat. Needless to say, what awaited the incompetents and losers?

Want to progress further? Delve deeper into optimizing the flow of internal energy. But don't forget that the cost of error continues to rise. Go even further? More power, greater control, more frequent skirmishes on the edge of possibility! But remember that there are only a few dozen officially registered Masters, and there are more than a thousand Warriors.

The path to the top is unique for everyone, just like every individual. Even with Masters as your mentors, you'll still need to adapt their instructions to suit yourself. Additionally, ordinary alchemy at this level is already useless.

Well, you can't buy something like that with money anymore if you don't have S-rank ingredients.

Every year, dozens of Warriors die, and a significant portion of these deaths results from ill-fated attempts to step to the next level. It's no surprise that only a few truly accomplished fighters exist. A thousand or two Warriors may seem like a considerable group, but for a country that covers a substantial portion of a large continent and has a population of around a billion people, they are just a drop in the ocean. Almost one or two prodigies per million.

I must admit that I was already in a much better position thanks to the Teigu, which provided the motivation and guided my development. Training had become a pleasure, especially with my significantly heightened sensitivity to energies. By significantly boosting my perception and thinking speed, I could not only track the movements of internal energy but also analyze them.

Perhaps the fragments of understanding the mechanics of spiritual shells, not consciously recognized yesterday but lingering in my subconscious, played a role. Or maybe something else. But at one point, it was as if a muse had kissed me. I felt where spiritual energy was being wasted, where it was insufficient, and where flows conflicted, creating interfering "whirlpools." No, I didn't just feel it, I understood what needed to be done to correct these flaws. It was as though the right actions were surfacing in my memory, as parts of a greater whole.

Even my visible fighting style underwent some changes. Some of the movements lost their smoothness and elegance, appearing jagged and irregular to an external observer, but they became sharper and less predictable.

After the breakthrough, I no longer needed a warm-up to enter an extreme mode. By eliminating many of the "bottlenecks" and "whirlpools" in the energy flows, I could almost instantly reach maximum speed and, after delivering a strike, either cancel the acceleration or switch to a "cruising" pace.

It was practically Iaido, but better.

However, it was impossible to remain constantly at the limit. Energy expenditure increased nonlinearly, and the acceleration gain weakened as you approached the limit. In essence, if the battle wasn't one-on-one, most gifted individuals operated at speeds between half and three-quarters of their maximum. Nobody wanted to expend all their energy and fall prey to a commoner's pitchfork. Therefore, most spirit warriors rarely utilized all their reserves, aiming to preserve some for emergencies.

From this, the breaks in the middle of a battle, just "to chat," also emerged. It was simply an attempt to catch one's breath and recover.

Therefore, mastering the trick of acceleration, once honed, would be a good claim to the Master's level. Of course, I wouldn't be awarded the rank, as its recognition automatically implied the bestowal of hereditary nobility. Keeping a noble as a chained beast was possible, but it opened up too many opportunities for the enemies of the Base command and their patrons.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

In addition, if we set aside Teigu and drugs, I was merely passing the lowest benchmark of mastery. The maximum speed and endurance were on the low side without doping, and the newly acquired ability required refinement and incorporation into my personal fighting style. Of course, Yatsufusa also contributed to my strength, but I couldn't entirely rely on it as long as the artifact could be taken away. And I didn't want to rely on drugs either.

But may the Abyss swallow anyone who says that becoming a quasi-Master at fourteen isn't an achievement!

Although, it wasn't worth getting too carried away with pride. The canon and the Base's library, which contained a brief dossier on General Esdeath, indicated that there was still much room for improvement. The blue-haired warrior defeated opponents in the Empire's largest fighters' tournament at the age of twelve. Of course, no arrogant Master with an official rank would participate in the Arena, but there was no shortage of Warriors there.

Was Esdeath weaker back then compared to me now? There was no answer. The girl had grown up in an unremarkable settlement of monster hunters, without exceptional mentors, access to high-quality alchemical drugs, or Teigu. For some time after the destruction of her home village, she lived alone in the dangerous northern mountains. No, I definitely should strive to become better.

Ironically, the skill of "instant killing" was a perfect fit for Akame, not me. My sister, with her sword capable of hanging a rapid-acting death curse on a living target with even the slightest scratch, could unleash the full potential of this ability.

Well, if... when I bring Akame to my side, she can try to adopt my discovery.

***

When I, exhausted but incredibly satisfied, reached the bench, the sun had long risen above the horizon and was starting to feel hot.

"The ice is broken, ladies and gentlemen of the jury! The ice is broken!" I announced, catching my breath, sitting down, and squinting at the bright rays.

Let my sister still be able to defeat me, though not as easily, not to mention monsters like Esdeath or Budo. Let it be so. But now, I had taken a big step forward on the path to strength, and, more importantly, I could see the way ahead. This meant that if I didn't stumble and survived, everything could change in the future.

“Akame...” the memories of my sister's soft smile, her crimson eyes looking warmly at me after another sparring session, and her clumsy but endearing attempts to cheer me up, made me feel warm inside but also brought a sense of longing and sadness. "If you try hard, Kurome, you will definitely beat me!" she used to say. - When we meet again, it will be me saying, "Do your best, little sister!" I muttered and, looking at the few clouds in the sky, I smiled, winking at a pesky eyelash that had found its way into my eye. - Just try to run from me again, Akame! And if you run away... I'll make sure you have nowhere else to go but back to me!

***

“Kurome... sister... how are you without me?” at the same time, a long-haired brunette with scarlet eyes looking out the window whispered with her lips.

The weight of her decision lay heavily on her heart. While she believed she had done the right thing, she missed her sister and the familiar surroundings. Her new comrades and commander tried to be friendly, but Akame still felt like an outsider.

She was going through a hard time, but no one could see it.

The scarlet-eyed assassin was, in fact, an emotional person, but her father had taught her to hide her feelings in a combat environment. Over time, she developed the ability to put on a mask of cold detachment on her face and emotions in moments of tension, danger, or psychological discomfort.

And now, that mask had almost become part of her soul. Impossible to remove.

“Akame, have you understood everything?” asked the woman, appearing to be in her mid-twenties to early thirties. Her unusually short, almost masculine, light-gray hair, black eye patch, and a dark-green mechanical arm, painted with dark-green paint. Dressed in black men's pants and a jacket, she exuded a rather stern demeanor, despite her fairly attractive appearance, which the injuries did not greatly spoil. Her military posture and her usual serious expression only strengthened the impression of a demanding but fair leader.

“Yes, Commander,” the young assassin replied in a tone devoid of emotion.

***

Meeting the cold gaze of blood-red eyes on the unchanging face, the former general of the Imperial Army, now the head of an elite group of rebels, shivered internally once again. Having finished her cigarette with one long draw, she flicked the butt into the ashtray. The only professional killer in her group, each time, made Najenda feel the chills running down her spine.

Once, the brunette who came for her head was now one of the members of Night Raid. But the absence of an emotional reaction after the killing of her adoptive father, her comrade, and a decent number of former allies from the intelligence - it scared. Who said she wouldn't dispose of Najenda with the same indifference if Najenda did something wrong (in the opinion of the former Imperial assassin)? But the woman, rightly proud of her communication skills, didn't show her true feelings. Smiling warmly in a caring commander's style, she reminded:

“Akame, I told you that you can just call me Najenda. We are all equals in the fight against the corrupt Empire! Comrades!”

“I remember, Najenda,” - the girl replied with the same emotionless tone, not changing her expression. She picked up the folder with data on the next target and left the smoky office.

“Leone, keep an eye on her,” - Najenda turned to a frivolously dressed yellow—eyed blonde with slightly disheveled shoulder-length hair and an impressive chest barely covered by a short top. Unlike Akame, her friend didn't even try to feign attention.

“With pleasure!” - with an erotic sigh, Leone replied, who was already tipsy in the morning. “I'll liven up our little ice queen!” she said with a lascivious smile, adjusting her ample bosom, and followed her partner on the upcoming mission, leaving behind the lingering scent of perfume and wine.

When the door closed, leaving her alone, the former general allowed herself to grimace in disgust.

This was not how she had envisioned her career in the Revolutionary Army. Not at all.

According to the plan, she is a combat general, at the head of an army of motivated soldiers and officers, joining the "army" of former peasants and a motley crew of rebel feudal squads, should have immediately become a very influential figure, if not the leader of the Revolution.

Unfortunately, for one of the two female generals of the Imperial Army, the fat pig Onest had outsmarted her. What was supposed to be a triumph turned into a monstrous failure. Unfortunately, despite cultivating the image of a cruel and stupid glutton, the Prime Minister was an extremely dangerous and cunning politician. The intelligence Service of his dog Saikyu also ate its bread for a reason, having learned in advance about the negotiations between Najenda and the revolutionary leaders.

The damned pig skillfully inflated the hype about the owner of teigu, who deserted at the head of her army. The resulting wave of repression affected many of those she considered friends; even her former patron and lover, generalissimo Budou, suffered some reputation damage.

The former general-turned-defector genuinely regretted all of it.

But she regretted her losses even more. Her mistakes, which forced her to switch sides to the Revolution before they came for her. The army. The power she had lost. Her beauty, finally! Oh, beauty, along with her brilliant mind, had been the main source of her pride and one of her most useful tools.

A lost tool.