Giving him a wave of hand Cecilie turned around and left after guiding him back home. Her umbrella shielded her from the light of lamps and before he knew she was gone, devoured by shadows that descendent from black night.

Hildebrant didn’t have time to observe her for long and when he turned to the house, he lived for almost a month with David he sighed and walked in.

The door creaked open and the first thing he noticed was David sleeping on the table. Not wanting to wake him up Hildebrant silently went to his room and closed the doors behind him after that he sat on the bed while the weak light of the lamp illuminated his face.

The painting of man still observed him, its gaze stabbing into his body but Hildebrant didn’t care and continued to ponder with slumped shoulders and half-burned body.

"What am I doing?"

His body didn’t move but his mind did. Shifting, creating one thought after another, giving him ideas, and questions, and creating answers.

Ascenders were strong, each one of them, they power beyond the imagination of normal people. Even the weakest transcendent lord or even a premature one was able to contest with several normal people without a problem.

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But then why was he so weak?

His eyes stared at the floor and then on blood that came out of his body. The steel stabbing into his flesh made it hard for him to move and weird oil made his wounds fester but what it did matter?

Rising his hand he slowly stripped down the destroyed armor he wore. There were many cracks, and some parts were grown into his flesh, some were in the wrong position and drilling into his body after ramming the abomination of pure madness, but Hildebrant's face did not change until he sat on the bed completely naked.

Blood kept pouring out of his wounds, but his impassive face kept staring at the floor when he finally moved and stood up.

Manifesting a marble sabre into his hands he walked into the center of the room and with his small skinny and weak body he began to swing his sword while navigating the raging flames in his body in various directions, empowering it and destroying it at the same time.

His swings parted the wind and kept tearing his body apart, the longer he did it the more of his muscles and tendons were destroyed but what it did matter?

As an ascender, he could heal faster than normal humans and even if he lost his eye, it would regrow back. So, he kept swinging and destroying himself while remembering the teaching of the golden marshal and Icarus, moving in the way his body would remember and when he felt it was too much, he changed style and swung his sword irregularly, changing style after style he remembered from school and David.

His body moved; his insides twisted in pain, but his face showed no emotions as he imagined opponent after opponent.

Each hour his style would change as he kept testing the moves and pondering about the easier way to defeat his opponent.

With it his battle style slowly took shape.