The training hall hummed with life. Neon lights pulsed in long strips across the ceiling, flickering in sync with the rhythmic hum of reactors hidden behind reinforced walls. The floor was matte black metal segmented by glowing violet cracks, was designed to absorb impact, channelling Tenebris safely through conduits beneath. Holographic displays flickered and shifted, tracking motion, pressure, aura density, and heart rate with cold precision.
Seijuro stood in the centre, catching his breath, sweat sliding down his jawline. His chest rose and fell like a drum that had been struck too many times. Across from him, Frank stood in his advanced state, towering, monstrous, but calm. His left arm was blackened, etched with cracks of glowing violet. A jagged spike jutted from his shoulder and elbow like a dragon's horn and talon. His aura pooled around him in a shimmering haze, reshaping the floor beneath his boots.
Seijuro's thoughts formed only one sentence,
This man never runs out of energy…
Frank rested his transformed sword over his shoulder, its edge humming with suppressed Tenebris,
"Ready?" Frank asked, smiling like he wasn't absolutely terrifying,
"No," Seijuro replied honestly, "but let's do it anyway."
Frank laughed, "Good answer. Resilience is a warrior's spine."
He darted forward, not limping, not dragging, moving like a lightning bolt. His sword slashed in a clean arc, the shockwave rippling through the air.
Seijuro barely slammed his sword down,
"Dragon Stance: Azure Protection!"
Tenebris flared around him. The hit still launched him backwards, metal screeching as his boots skidded across the floor,
"Your posture was too rigid," Frank said, strolling toward him like they were taking a walk. "You braced like a wall. You're not a wall. You're a river, redirect, don't resist."
Seijuro grunted, rolling his aching shoulders, "Easy for you to say when you're built like a mountain…"
"Even the strongest of mountains can be broken," Frank tapped his blackened arm, "Now get up."
Seijuro rose, breathing hard. Frank lowered his stance slightly. "Today we focus on two techniques. Both require restraint. And both will destroy you if you get overconfident."
"Sounds fun," Seijuro muttered.
Frank pointed his sword at him. "Let's begin. Dragon Stance: Wrath of Tatsu."
A burst of wind cracked outward as Frank stepped forward, his aura flaring. He thrust the sword straight ahead, and the air itself detonated, a shockwave blasting toward Seijuro. He dove aside, hit the floor, and rolled,
"That," Frank said calmly, "was an example."
Frank continued, "Wrath of Tatsu is a forward-driving thrust. The principle is simple: compress Tenebris into a single point, then release it explosively. Think of a dragon expelling fire from its throat. This will be your main 'finishing' move against fears young Seijuro."
He motioned for Seijuro to try. Seijuro took the stance Frank had drilled into him over the last month, feet grounded, shoulders loose, breathing steady. He gathered Tenebris into his palms.
"Dragon Stance…" he whispered, "Wrath of Tatsu!" He lunged forward with a thrust.
A spark, then a weak puff of force coughed out like a dying candle. Enough to push a hologram.
Frank nodded. "Good. That's the shape of it. Again."
They repeated it again. And again. And again. Hours blurred.
His muscles screamed, his arms trembled, sweat drenched him to the bone—but gradually, the thrust sharpened. The pressure strengthened. By late afternoon, the shockwaves were enough to rattle Frank's coat. Not enough to impress him, but enough to earn a smile,
"Not bad, young Seijuro."
Seijuro collapsed to one knee. "I… can't… feel… my arms…"
"Excellent," Frank beamed. "Let's begin the second technique."
Seijuro stared at him in despair. "Why?"
"Because you're still conscious." Seijuro regretted every decision that led him to this moment.
Frank lifted his sword, spinning it once with surprising grace despite its size,
"Dragon Stance: Wani's Hurricane. A downward strike that multiplies itself when infused with Tenebris. Think of a storm of descending blows."
He raised the sword overhead and swung. Tenebris spiralled off the blade in a flurry of spectral copies, each one slamming into the floor, sending shockwaves outward in a cascading boom-boom-boom. The impact lights flickered across the room. Seijuro's jaw hung open,
"You want me to do that?!"
"Not today. Or tomorrow. Or next month," Frank answered cheerfully. "Today, you will simply feel the form."
Seijuro stood, lifting his practice blade with trembling arms. His first swing barely produced a spark. His second created a faint echo of Tenebris. By the twentieth, his legs nearly buckled. Frank's voice echoed behind him:
"Let the Tenebris spiral, not explode. A hurricane does not rage outward, it coils inward before striking."
Seijuro inhaled, "Will you stop with the cryptic bullshit!?" Exhaled.
Lifted the blade. "Dragon Stance…" A faint swirl of Tenebris gathered, "Wani's… Hurricane!"
He brought the blade down. Three spectral strikes appeared. Weak. Slow. But present. Seijuro smiled, proud, right before he collapsed, Frank catching his body before he hit the floor.
Frank chuckled. "And that is progress."