I didn't bother concealing where I came from in Orpheidos. Given the activities of BKDW and the Masks, art featuring my likeness has been well-known to all those interested in the Break Knights for some time. I'm certain the other local raigs identified me as quickly as Alpha did. For this reason, I made no effort to hide. Instead, I leapt off the pier and sprinted north, towards Novilter, bounding from wave to wave at full speed.

However, I didn't travel in a straight line this time, but kept close to the coastline. There was a compelling reason for this: I had expended a significant amount of prana during the Breakthrough, leaving me nearly depleted. With these meager reserves, I couldn't remain in the Break long enough to comfortably reach Wilflaes. Consequently, I needed to find a deserted spot to rest in the material world and replenish my energy.

The sandy beaches crowded with vacationers that extended along the coast for the first twenty kilometers from Orpheidos were unsuitable. After navigating through this tourist zone, I approached the shore and started searching more meticulously for an isolated area, scarcely visible from the sea.

When I was almost out of prana, barely hanging on to its last remnants, I found a suitable refuge. It was a small bay, sheltered from the winds and waves by gently sloping hills thick with shrubs.

Of course, I didn't enter the bay where two small pleasure yachts were moored. But the slope of one of the hills seemed an ideal place. After scaling into the thick of the bushes and ensuring the dense branches and foliage sufficiently obscured the view, I lay on the sun-warmed ground and exited the Break.

The moment I manifested in the material world, overwhelming fatigue set in. Not physical, but psychological. I was quivering from the ordeal I had endured. Whenever I closed my eyes, my mind painted horrifying images of me failing to strike on time, and the skeleton captain's broadsword cleaving me in two. Or in my mind's eye, a jian would dance wildly, straight as a needle.

What a predicament I had landed myself in!

There's no point, though, in self-reproach or in searching for an error. My initial concern about trading money practically received from the government was, indeed, slightly paranoid, I concede, but it was also logical. The one doesn't invalidate the other.

The fact that I blundered into the Breakthrough like a fly into honey was an accident, a mere coincidence, not a result of my decisions or actions. Therefore, I shouldn't berate myself or search for any mistakes that led to this circumstance.

Shit happens.

There's no need to seek explanations within oneself.

Lying here, I watch the clouds rush across the sky, and in every third one, I see the silhouette of the "Ghost Dane." Shivers run down my spine. It feels like I'm developing another phobia.

After the Breakthrough with the golden raigs' participation, I let my guard down, envisioning myself as one of the world's best swordsmen. But today, the Break starkly exposed the fallacy of such illusions. I was squashed, like butter on a hot pan.

If it weren't for the Knight's abilities, I wouldn't have held out for more than ten, perhaps fifteen seconds, even against the boatswain. The captain would likely have sent me to rebirth with the first attack combination.

Skeletons... I've always imagined them as the easiest opponents one could encounter in a Breakthrough. Likely, this was due to countless games where such undead are the lowest and weakest entities. However, facing the reality was anything but pleasant. What more can I say?

Hey! Stop criticizing yourself! Was the Break repelled? Yes! Am I alive? Yes, again. What more do I need? Even the skill I acquired was extraordinary. As the saying goes, all's well that ends well. So, I need to purge all these fears from my mind. What happened has passed, and the same goes for this Breakthrough. It's over, and it's high time to stop replaying it over and over in my imagination.

I lay on the soft grass. The sun shines. Birds sing. Everything is fine. Fine, I tell myself!

Regrettably, such self-hypnosis doesn't seem to work well for me.

I need to occupy my mind with something else, filling my thoughts so there's no room left for unpleasant fantasies and images. For instance, should I write a report on the Breakthrough and post it on the private BKDW forum? It seems prudent. I could portray the event more vividly, instilling a bit of fear to push them towards rigorous training. But then again, I don't really feel like doing this. There's a certain laziness... And also, I need to craft the report in a way that reveals the truth but doesn't expose my suspicions about the Orpheidos raigs knowing each other in real life. The challenge lies in the fact that such a report will naturally be scrutinized by astute individuals who could glean the truth from sparse and subtle clues.

Yes, it would be prudent to write a small cautionary note for everyone - it can't do any harm. For now, while I'm lying here and regaining my energy, I should contemplate the content of the report. At least it will keep my mind engaged with something practical rather than worthless and needless anxiety.

Switching my mind to address a specific problem was a good move. It ensured my imagination settled down and stopped projecting images of my demise.

In general, I've never been fond of writing reports. In my past life, I had to draft quite a few, so you could say my aversion to them is "inherent." Nevertheless, I comprehend their importance in certain domains and situations. Moreover, no one here will require me to adhere to bureaucratic norms. I can intersperse the dry, official tone with various elements: musings, speculations, and depictions of certain scenes.

The Breakthrough itself can be portrayed in a straightforward, businesslike manner. I should also depict the Orpheidos raigs and many components of their gear, while deliberately omitting my own conjectures, concealing them behind trivial dry details. I could pay more attention not to the Knights' uniform similarities but to their differences. Actually, this isn't too challenging: I simply need to place the emphasis correctly. This tactic has its nuances, but with adequate experience, it's quite feasible.

The primary objective is to weave my warnings about potential encounters with folklore characters, like the captain of a ghost ship, into this report. Brief suggestions such as: avoid engaging such adversaries single-handedly and make full use of the Knights' abilities.

Also, this rupture in reality has shown that my previous assertion - that studying swordsmanship, kendo, and other similar arts was not a priority for raigs - was misguided. While it is time-consuming, the necessity of such training is now glaringly evident. However, teamwork should remain a higher priority.

I need to present everything in such a way that it seems as though these are not my thoughts that I'm trying to impose on the readers. Rather, the reader themselves should arrive at such conclusions - that's the main challenge. How can I use dry words - emotions are always extraneous in reports - to deliver information in a way that achieves the desired impact? As I lay hidden in the bushes on the unfamiliar coastline of a foreign land, I contemplated this question, constantly aware that my words would be dissected by professionals.

Gradually, a specific structure for the report took shape in my mind. Having reviewed it several times, I discarded unnecessary details and added some minor elements as distractions. Another challenge is that due to the "Word," I couldn't lie, not only in conversations but also in writing. It's a pity - things would be much simpler without such restrictions.

By evening, as a cool breeze wafted from the sea and the sun began to sink towards the horizon, I ventured into the Break once more. My prana had almost fully replenished during my rest. In theory, I didn't need to wait for such complete energy restoration, but I wanted to finalize a detailed outline of the report in my head. Also, having a surplus of prana in case of unforeseen situations wouldn't hurt.

I arrived in Wilflaes with the last rays of the setting sun. As usual, after making several detours and ensuring there was no inadvertent attention, I reached my apartment.

I immediately stripped off my clothes, stuffed them into the washing machine, and took a shower. I washed quickly, skipping the usual indulgence of standing under the streaming water. Then, after briskly drying myself off with a terry towel, I brewed tea and sat down at the computer with a full mug.

Before translating my thoughts into text, I looked up the legend of the "Ghost Dane" online and read it carefully. As is typical for such orally transmitted folklore, there were several versions of the myth, but they generally concurred on one thing - that the captain of the sailing ship made a pact with death and received an artifact - either a bugle, pipe, or hunting horn.

Some details of the myth intrigued me, and I decided to incorporate them into my report - in its analytical section.

Even though I had thought everything through and planned it out, actually writing the text was still a challenge. I only managed to write about a third of it in an hour. After erasing and rewriting the same paragraph for the fifth time, I realized I needed to take a break and switch gears.

I prepared a light salad for dinner and returned to the computer with a full plate. I closed my text editor and opened a news site. The very first article on the main page of the news portal was about the recent Breakthrough in Orpheidos, and I almost choked on a piece of tomato.

I perused it and several other similar articles which had sprung up in a short time on various platforms. The reportage was largely measured. They mentioned two deceased police officers and minor damage to the port, but there was also a clear emphasis on the professionalism of the local law enforcement forces. They had drawn the correct conclusions based on indirect evidence, cordoned off the hazardous area in time, and then executed the evacuation.

Of course, the Orpheidos Break Knights weren't neglected. Despite their identities and the images of their projections being unknown, this didn't prevent the authorities and journalists from extolling the raigs. The Greek city's authorities even awarded the title of honorary citizens to all participants involved in neutralizing the Breakthrough. However, there was one catch: this list also included my name. Not exactly a name, but rather my pseudonym.

It appeared that the Orpheidos Knights had connections with journalists and, while concealing their teamwork, they collaborated closely with some of them. This was evident in the mention of "Maestro" and other details sprinkled throughout the text of some articles.

I felt compelled to review all the news on this topic, even those published in Greek, a language Izao had only a rudimentary grasp of. However, armed with a translator, I quickly understood the gist of what was written.

The locals, consistent with the habit among all raigs, did not delve into a detailed description of the Breakthrough. They confined themselves to general remarks: it occurred, we fought, repelled what we encountered - this is our affair, you only need to know that it's all over, and you can sleep peacefully. Alpha's maneuver didn't go unnoticed either. Someone even captured footage of him "flickering" and warning the authorities. An intense debate ignited on the internet regarding this. Some objected: "Who are they to threaten the police?!" while others argued in their defense: "They are in their right!". After scrolling through ten pages of such discussions, I deduced that the latter opinion was considerably more prevalent. Generally speaking, most people sided with the Knights in nearly any contentious situation; I've known this for a long time. Additionally, the fact that during the reality break, nearly all the raigs protecting the city ended up one step away from death added significant weight to public approval of all of Alpha's actions. As I suspected, he truly sat on the pier for two hours, intermittently appearing in reality and preventing anyone from approaching his unconscious comrades until they had recovered and left the port.

After conducting an initial analysis of this news, I reopened the editor and began revising my report, which required modifications in light of the new information.

I completed my work just after midnight - writing according to a plan, rather than lumping everything together and being satisfied with the result, is no simple task. Everything might seem well-written already, but upon reading, you notice a detail that should be omitted or modified. So you make that change, which in turn requires additional adjustments. And then something else catches your attention, and so this process seems never-ending. But when I mentioned that I had the necessary experience, I meant it, so by half past one in the morning, my work was completed and saved to a floppy disk.

There was no point in postponing the file upload to the BKDW website until the next day. Moreover, having rested in the shade of the bushes on the shore, I wasn't sleepy. It's better to be productive than to lie in bed trying to force myself to sleep.

After some consideration, I put on my motorcycle suit. Lighter clothes would have been more comfortable, but in this case, it's better to err on the side of caution. The only thing I changed was my gloves: I opted for thinner and lighter ones.

I had long earmarked several business centers for such outings, so I didn't waste time aimlessly wandering the city, but moved with purpose. The first office building on my list had to be rejected. They had some sort of emergency, and even at that late hour, there were still three employees in the server room, presumably system administrators. Not wanting to take risks or wait, I ran to the next center on the list within a few minutes.

As usual, after checking the security post and running through the floors in the Break, I didn't spot any staff, but there were plenty of computers still switched on. Choosing a spot far from windows and doors, I memorized the positions of the keyboard and mouse on the desk before reappearing in reality.

Of course, I was curious to read the internal forum of BKDW, but business comes first. As soon as I log in, the countdown of my stay on the organization's website will begin. And if I start indulging my curiosity before addressing the main task, it would hint to observers that the image I previously created might be false. Not that it matters significantly after meeting Tu Chong, but it's still best to remain consistent. Therefore, as soon as I entered my login and password, I immediately navigated to the closed forum section and, after creating a new topic titled "Breakthrough in Orpheidos," I uploaded my report there.

Only after completing this task did I allow myself to browse other topics. It had been less than a week since my last visit to the internal forum, yet numerous messages had accumulated in that time.

The first topic that caught my eye was about new or recently spotted raigs in Wilflaes. I was curious to see if anyone had noticed Dobrynya or Baenre. After scrolling through all the week's messages, I found no mention of either of them. Meanwhile, two first-level newcomers were spotted, one of whom agreed to cooperate with BKDW. However, he requested that his projection image not be publicized, so no artwork was attached to his brief description. Additionally, an unfamiliar Knight was noted in the city, clearly not first-level, but he was seen only briefly and did not make contact. The prevailing assumption was that he was a temporary visitor to the capital, and his encounter was accidental. Seeing someone else's attention, this "guest" slipped into the Sliding and vanished into the urban expanse. It was precisely such random encounters that I feared when I first arrived in this world. After repelling the Breakthrough with robots, such secrecy has become less important to me. Nevertheless, I commended myself once again for moving around the city discreetly and not traveling along the busiest routes. You might overlook someone's curious projection, and then someone could determine your living location as easily as one plus one.

The next topic I paid close attention to was my previous report on the peculiar Breakthrough that took me to Egypt. There was a lot of discussion there. Initially, the messages were fraught with panic about potential replacements, but this mood later shifted to a more optimistic one. Based on the responses from Kraas and Maya, the analysts had pieced together the case meticulously. They had also studied the "original" series and all script variations, including drafts. The conclusions presented were indeed comforting. According to these summaries, it was determined that "doubles" couldn't remain inactive for long, simply mimicking the original's life. Their nature doesn't allow it. That is, long-term infiltrators are not a threat, and all other cases are not so dangerous. However, there was a small caveat that these conclusions were based only on a specific example, while other works also feature creatures of a similar nature. Like everyone else, I expressed hope that such Breakthroughs wouldn't happen again. The notion of personality substitution unnerves me far more than any monsters. I find the idea of probing everyone I meet with "Purity" unsettling. It would not only be extremely impolite but also overly provocative.

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After closing that topic, I contemplated how convenient it would be to possess some kind of scanning skill, which could discern whether I was dealing with an average person or a monster. On the other hand, it could be a highly situational ability that might never prove useful.

A few pages further back, I found the topic containing an ultimatum from the rat clan. There wasn't much news there - they were still searching, finding nothing, and lacking any leads. I still couldn't decide whether to get involved in this issue or let it run its course. If it weren't for the "Word," which forbids lying, I could have penned a few lines to nudge the investigation in the right direction. However, due to the constraints of the sword, even if I restrict myself to vague statements, it won't be easy to respond correctly to precisely phrased follow-up questions. More accurately, an experienced investigator would easily see through my evasions and corner me. In this case, I'd have to admit to my direct involvement in the demise of the Korean raigs. No, I still maintained that they were responsible for their own deaths, but that was my perspective. I had no idea how other BKDW Knights would react to such news, and I had no desire to strain relations with them. And what can these rats actually do to raigs? This ultimatum is likely just posturing, and when the deadline arrives, they'll probably back down from their demands, finding a convenient scapegoat. To ease my conscience slightly, I noted that I had encountered unfamiliar projections in medieval Korean armor around the same time.

The next topic that piqued my interest was the discussion about various fencing manuals. In my opinion, such books tend to do more harm than good. More accurately, for the average person, they usually do. However, raigs could learn some fundamental aspects from these sources, such as proper sword grips, certain stances, and the basic principles of the simplest schools. I jotted down the names of the treatises under discussion. I will need to review them and offer my recommendations. And if time allows, I should even write some introductory textbooks for newly initiated Knights. Though, that's a substantial commitment on my part as such work could span months. Nonetheless, the idea itself is intriguing. I'll have to mull it over later.

I cast a glance at the office clock and noticed that there was still a fair bit of time to browse the forum. Furthermore, I wasn't as fearful about being discovered anymore; if anything, I could easily make an escape. The past few weeks had significantly bolstered my confidence, particularly in concealing my tracks and moving swiftly in the Break.

So, what other news has cropped up here in the past five days?

For the most part, the posts were casual banter and chatter. But such "empty" conversations also held their appeal, as personal traits often shine through, especially with the younger demographic. Take, for instance, the thread titled "Girls not allowed!". In it, Thomas, the website's system administrator, proposed organizing something akin to a beauty contest amongst the female projections. Initially, there was resistance to the idea since nearly all female projections were sheathed in armor, their faces hidden. However, this didn't deter the youngest of the open BKDW raigs, who didn't conceal his identity. He set up a poll complete with attached art. Naturally, by the third page of this thread, everything descended into a flurry of jokes and uncensored images. Surprisingly, many of the artists seemed to relish creating the latter.

Erotic artists took the armor-clad projection images and then "undressed" the beloved raigs - mostly the female ones, although there were exceptions. Some of the images were genuinely impressive, though I suspect they bore little resemblance to reality and were more reflective of the artists' fantasies. Despite the thread title, the girls didn't ignore it, leading to regular bickering. Nonetheless, I must give credit to Maya and Amanda, who mainly responded with humor, teasing each other more than they indulged in the guys' indignation.

The more I read the forum, the more I found myself appreciating the BKDW community. They were good people, quirks and all. But then again, who doesn't have a bit of oddness about them, especially considering the enormous responsibility placed on their young shoulders? If it weren't for the fact that the organization's Knights operated under the strict supervision of the secret services and government, I'd probably join their ranks.

Speaking of assistance. The task board was still in its testing phase, but some requests from the police and prosecutors had already been posted. They were mainly general, hardly distinguishable from typical wanted criminal postings: a photo of the suspect, a brief description, their last known location, and the bounty for their capture. With the "shock sword" ability, apprehending even the most dangerous criminals wasn't challenging, but finding them was another story. The idea of searching through all the hotspots in the Break was far from enticing. Although... Some of the bounties were hefty enough that I found myself contemplating the idea. Would an extra hundred thousand francs be amiss? Additionally, I wouldn't hesitate to dispose of certain wanted individuals, particularly one child rapist, without even turning them over to the authorities.

As soon as the thought crossed my mind, "Purity" responded with a pleasant warmth in the palm of my hand. Interesting... One theory about the Break blades had just gained additional support.

Keeping in mind some particularly unsavory characters, in case I happened to cross paths with them, I closed the "board."

Next, I checked my private messages. There was only one, from Hyungang Tu Chong. The Maker expressed his pleasure in meeting me and wished to see me again. I responded that while this was possible, I was currently occupied. If I found more free time, perhaps... I made sure to keep my words general and noncommittal.

Odd. Very odd. It's hard to believe that the BKDW raigs hadn't wanted to send me personal messages. There could only be one explanation: they had been gently dissuaded from being "overbearing." I can't think of any other reason for this apparent neglect. Yet another point on the scale tipping towards "not joining the BKDW."

Don't get me wrong, I have no issue with the Knights, who've received powers, being under some form of supervision. But I don't see myself fitting into that structure. I don't require the guidance of others. I can navigate my path independently.

Before clicking the "exit" button and erasing any traces of my visit, I couldn't resist contributing a few posts in two chat threads. One was dedicated to discussing disguise methods, mainly humorous, featuring absurd costumes and robes. Reading through it, I noted that Amanda had an impeccable sense of humor, her suggestions being the most ludicrous. I mentioned this in my post. Regrettably, I didn't propose any of my own. During my time in Orpheidos, an intriguing barker costume had caught my eye, but I failed to photograph it, something I mildly regretted now. The second thread where I left a comment involved a debate on how to convince Maya to revert to her natural hair color, instead of the "blonde nightmare." I, too, felt the bleached hair didn't suit her.

Not that I particularly needed to post anything. However, my presence on the forum wouldn't go unnoticed by the raigs. If I had just submitted the report and done nothing else, it could have been perceived as intentional distancing from the organization's members. I didn't want that, so I left neutral comments in two unrelated threads.

The Break's criteria for choosing the "worthy" Knights remains a mystery. What are the parameters? Regardless, everyone I've encountered has primarily exhibited positive traits. Except for the Korean raigs, but then again, their true motives remain unclear to me, and I didn't know them personally.

Reading the young raigs' interactions made me want to cast aside everything, disregard any biases about those in power, and join the BKDW. I'm weary of being alone... Is it only now that I fully grasp this? I'm not a sociophobe and I have no desire to spend the entirety of my life in quiet seclusion, away from others.

My internal struggle with these urges didn't last long. Resolutely suppressing the impulse and burying my yearnings deep within, I logged out, erased my digital footprints, and restored the computer to its pre-arrival state. I then adjusted the chair, repositioned the keyboard and mouse, and, taking my notes, slipped into the Break.

I made my way home quite swiftly, not overly concerned about potential surveillance. The final leg of my journey, traversing underground, would be nearly impossible to track without my knowledge.

Having undressed, I lay on the bed, bracing myself for a long night wrestling with nightmares. To my surprise, however, I slipped into a deep sleep the moment my eyes closed.

I didn't dream at all. The alarm clock's shrill ring sounded like the world's most annoying melody. For about three minutes, I just lay there, eyes open, staring at the ceiling. I had no desire to get up and do anything - the very thought was a toothache.

I felt as though I had marched nonstop for a day and then lain down, only to be trampled over. I slipped into the Break straight from bed and returned instantly. Nothing changed, which confirmed that my lethargy wasn't due to physical exhaustion.

Mustered all my willpower, I rolled off the bed and lay still until the chill of the room, courtesy of the air conditioner operating at full capacity all night, drove me to my feet.

Things improved slightly after that. A cup of hot tea helped bring me almost back to normal.

Recalling the events of the previous day, I began to pace around my studio apartment. Back and forth, back and forth, from one end to the other, lost in scattered and peculiar thoughts.

I was so deeply engrossed in this mental stream that when I finally emerged, I struggled to comprehend why I was holding a mop handle. When had I picked it up? And why were my palms treating it as if it were a sword?

Succumbing to this unforeseen inspiration, I continued the smooth motions without any strain, fearful of scaring away the insight that had emerged from nowhere.

Step. Body lean. The stick slides into a defensive position. New step. Turn. A block, swiftly transitioning into a sweeping strike. Shift. Semicircle. A lunge - short, sharp, ungraceful, but somehow strangely precise.

Before my mind's eye stands the bone captain of the eternal wanderer. He isn't attacking, just standing off to the side. I'm merely replicating his movements. Step, transition, block, dodge, lunge, counter strike.

I'm aware there's no captain nearby. It's all in my head, nothing more. Yet...

Retreat, block, dodge, step over. I execute a combination - crude to look at, but incredibly sharp and coherent. Each movement serves both defensive and offensive purposes simultaneously.

This combat style bears no resemblance to destreza whatsoever, especially diverging from the theatrical version I've practiced for many years. The Spanish school is marked by its fluidity, lightness, and perhaps occasional over-elaboration. However, here, all movements are sharp and abrupt, aiming for raw functionality rather than aesthetic beauty.

There's hardly any circular rotation; the hand seems to snap from one position to another. No graceful sweep of the legs, only firm, clear, and sometimes deceptive steps. The body's turns lack the elegance of dance. Deviations occur only to the necessary extent, not a hair's breadth further, even if the movement appears wrong or incomplete.

Step, kick, move.

Block, retreat, combination.

Lunge, lunge, parry.

Minute after minute, time slips away like grains of sand, as I keep moving from one end of the apartment to the other.

This style is completely different. It's not something I was ever taught. Yet, there's something captivating about its mechanistic nature, its regularity, and its clear, almost inhuman precision.

Understanding this new style eludes me. It is profoundly different from what I absorbed years ago. It's too late for me to relearn, and there's no real teacher.

However...

There's something I can glean from it.

Just a little.

Not the movements or combinations themselves.

The principles.

I step into the position. First circle. Second. Third. I see. Repeat, but this time, devoid of the superficial theatrical flair. I stumble. Then fumble again. And again. It's not working out. My body is too accustomed to the learned routines. But I can't give up...

Yes, that's it! The circle grows slightly smaller, more defined, and the leg movements are more precise. Consequently, the swings of my makeshift sword don't need such a wide range. That alone buys me an extra moment. What is a moment, you might ask? To that, I'd say - it's life itself.

I'm not overhauling my skills. No, it's something else. I'm discarding the extraneous, the overtly theatrical elements I had grown so accustomed to that I hadn't even realized how many of my movements were overly flamboyant. It's akin to a sculptor inspired by someone else's masterpiece, who trims away the superficial to make his own sculpture more succinct and robust. He removes unnecessary frills and unsuitable parts for the image of beauty, those elements that obscure the main objective of the composition.

Of course, I'm only at the onset of this journey. There's a great deal of work ahead, potentially spanning many years. Yet, I find myself oddly grateful for this Breakthrough and the spectral ship's captain. Had it not been for this encounter and the peculiar inspiration this morning, if they hadn't shown me how much better one can be...

Circle. Mistake. Circle. Another circle. Legs, you need to follow a different dance. A lethal dance, not one of ostentation. The movement required here is different, albeit only slightly.

I don't intend to fully adopt the captain's style, even if it were possible. Nor am I repurposing his techniques, assigning some combinations to my arsenal. This is partially accurate, but it's far less significant than the primary goal.

Inspiration. I've come to understand how the theatrical variant of destreza differs from the martial art that's nearly forgotten even in Spain. It's not an intellectual understanding, but rather one from the heart. It remains a dance, but entirely different. It's not akin to tango or flamenco. It's a complex, more profound dance, the beauty of which is only discernible to those who've reached a certain level of comprehension of the sword. It's like a ballet: classical, strict, poorly understood by most. Yes, an apt comparison: if theatrical destreza is flamenco - passionate and eye-catching, then the martial form of this art is ballet, incredibly intricate, yet also refined and beautiful - if one can perceive its beauty.

There are no unnecessary movements that I usually perform, but neither are there the captain's abruptness, needlessly harsh attacks, and blocks. That's what I'm striving for.

Is it working?

Not particularly well, so far.

But I know I'm on the right path. And most importantly, I understand how to proceed.

Step, transition, circle.

Retreat, circle, dodge.

Sidestep, point toe forward, step back, circle.

My feet trace lines on the floor. The steps are smooth, languid, seemingly slow, but it's deceptive, stemming from the near-complete relaxation of the body.

Circle, circle, lunge.

Block, transition, lunge.

Everything is methodical, without jolts. These aren't the captain's movements. They are mine.

Reimagining. Or rather, the beginnings of it.

This is a dance once again, not of passion as before, but of serenity. Not fire - but water. A viscous, continuous, unbroken stream of movements. I am the river carrying its waters - the blade. Overcoming barriers and circumventing the toughest rocks, my sword will find its target.

Circle, lunge, lunge.

A combination - in which two blocks and a strike meld into one movement.

Retreat, step, circle.

More precision! I mustn't extend the foot's toe so far, shouldn't bend the elbow so much, and need to hold my head higher. A new attempt.

Following that, there's another attempt.

It doesn't quite click - my old habits are holding me back: either my head drops too low, or my elbow overextends, or my foot steps just a bit further than needed.

Time after time, it's a misstep.

It's okay. I see and understand.

It'll all come together, provided I don't give up.

Retreat, retreat, counterattack.

And then switch to an offensive approach.

A barrage of three combinations.

I nearly toppled the table lamp. I got overly engrossed. Despite the size of my apartment, it isn't the ideal space for such training.

As I corrected the lamp, which had almost plummeted to the floor, the wall clock caught my eye.

What?!

Has it really been that long?

Darn! I only have ten minutes left before meeting the Padawans.