Damon drew in a breath, steadying his thoughts. His voice came out quieter than expected.
".… Thank you, Mother… I," he muttered, eyes shifting sideways. "Was just… doing what I had to."
Lady Morrigan's brow arched as she looked at Damon in amusement. "And still ended up here."
"I meant to do that, I was... just testing my limits." Damon's body language betrayed him as he replied, trying to conceal his embarrassment. "Why am I in the infirmary, anyway?" he asked, tugging slightly at the blanket. "I was fine."
"You weren't, at least not on the outside."Lady Morrigan pulled a chair closer and sat down beside him, then added. "About ten minutes ago, you began bleeding internally, and bone fractures suddenly appeared with spiritual energy becoming unstable."
Upon hearing this, Damon winced. "... Oh."
'So Gerald was right?, That thing could have killed me!'
"We brought you back immediately. Ethan healed most of it, and you did the rest." Lady Morrigan studied his shifting expression, then gestured towards Ethan, standing behind her.
Curiously looking towards Ethan, Damon saw him subtly nod with a smile plastered on his face.
Damon shyly looked away, flustered. "Thanks."
His mother folded her hands in her lap. "You were inside for about four hours."
He blinked. "Wait, what? That's it?"
She rose and rested her hand on his head for a moment. It was brief, but Damon sensed a flow of spiritual energy wash over him as the discomfort in his body faded.
"You should be able to move your body now." Finishing her sentence, Mother Morrigan turned and walked towards the exit
Damon looked back at the others as he rose from the bed. Cassie's arms were still folded, but her eyes flicked toward him again. Vincent had moved to the far side of the room, pretending to examine a cabinet. Fin had crept a little closer now, lingering near the edge of the bed. His eyes were fixed on Damon's face.
'Four hours, huh?'It didn't feel like it.
Gurg… Gurg…Suddenly, his stomach rumbled as he hadn't eaten yet… He wasn't able to enjoy breakfast due to Vincent's pranks, but it was delicious. He couldn't help but swallow his saliva after recalling it.
Remembering what Vincent had done made him infuriated, although he probably only had good intentions; it was still a rather callous way of helping. He could only thank his luck for how things turned out.
****
It was June eighteenth, and six days had passed since the trials ended. Over the days, Damon had several training sessions with Vincent, Henry, and Josh in hopes of raising his technique level.
The whole training facility was around the size of a football field. At the top right of the training ground was a shooting range divided into five different distances, ranging from 50m to 300m. On the bottom right of the training ground, Automatons were positioned for sparing.
They were made of Aeon, an extremely hard metal that could even withstand the impact of a Grade I Specter and an Artificial intelligence able to effectively predict strikes. At the top left, there was a large gymnasium fully equipped with top-of-the-line equipment. The Section he currently stood in was the middle and bottom left area of the training facility, left empty as a free space for practicing moves or footsteps.
Staring at his scarlet katana, Damon sighed. The leather grip comfortably sat in his hands.
"... It's frustrating."
He thought that with enough time and practice, He'd see some improvement, but in the two weeks that he started practicing, the only result he received was failure.
"Still nothing..."
"Seems like you still haven't figured out how to properly use your technique."
Damon continued to stare at his blade and ignored the voice that reached him from behind.
He closed his eyes and focused all his attention on the blade. Spiritual energy flushed from his core to his fingers. Gripping the hilt of the blade tightly, a rather vivid image of the bloody Shapeshifter took form in his mind. Slowly, his energy began radiating heat as his blade was engulfed in flames.
Sweat trickled down his nose.
Stopping at the tip.
'It's working….. Just a little more….'
'It's… not…hot enough yet the flames had become white last time…'
Drip...Something wet trickled down from his nose. Using his sleeve, he wiped it. Only for it to be stained in red.
That's when Damon realized.
"So this is my limit for now." Dissipating the flames, he heard the voice ring out again.
"You're overworking yourself."
Finally, looking back, he stared at Vincent, sitting on a bench nearby
"You're not going to improve by just forcing progress. You've been training nonstop. Why not take a break? Didn't you say you had some research to do?" Pausing for a moment, Vincent's mouth curved in a smirk as he continued." You didn't forget, did you?"
"Do I look like an idiot? There's no way I'd forget," remarked Damon; however, inwardly his thoughts spun in realization. 'Ah!.. I forgot about that.'
He initially intended to research Tomoe's identity and the basics of Specter ranks. In the end, they each received a copy of a book called the Fundamentals of Spectology, but he enjoyed training too much to read it. He had forgotten, but he'd rather die than let Vincent be right.
Despite his confident response, Vincent's eyes seemed to say he didn't believe him. Shrugging his shoulders, he then rose from his seat and said, "At least get some rest, your mind needs it more than your body, and I'd rather have you in peak condition once your first mission is assigned."
Storing his sword away, Damon quickly walked out of the free area with Vincent. He soon spotted Fin, Henry, and Josh training with automatons as he curiously looked around.
Fin wielded a Rapier with grace, His strikes quick and precise. If Damon were to estimate Fin's strength at the moment, he doubted he would be able to remain completely unscathed if they fought.
But he would certainly win.
Henry, on the other hand, was much more of a challenge; he used curved daggers and had Spiritual energy closely comparable to Damon's. His strides were aggressive, extremely fast, and agile, with his speed matching Fin's.
Shing!..Shing!..With each strike, he left several shallow slashes on the automaton, and the sound of a sharp crack echoed.
Josh raised his hand and gathered shimmering strands of energy into his fingertips. With a sharp exhale, he then swung in a wide arc. Almost immdeiately seven thin lines of spiritual energy burst out, spinning in a radial slash, and landed squarely across the automaton's upper body.
Ting! Ting!… Not even a dent. Only shallow scratches, like someone had dragged a fork over reinforced plating.
"Eh?" Josh blinked.
The automaton responded instantly with a sweeping kick. Josh barely managed to duck, rolling to the side and hopping back up into a wide-legged karate stance.
"Right. When palms don't work... fists!"
Without a moment's hesitation, He charged thoughtlessly, yelling. "OSU!"
He quickly delivered a low kick, then a rising punch to the automaton's midsection, causing it to stumble slightly back.
Shaking his hand from the impact, He winced and jumped back. "Ow ow ow okay, okay, maybe not fists yet."Still, he grinned, seemingly satisfied with his attempts.
Watching, arms crossed, Damon spoke with furrowed brows, "He's too reckless."
Vincent, beside him, offered, "But he's adapting, unlike a certain someone. Each attempt is more fluid than his last."
"… Barely," Damon muttered quietly.
Frustrated by failed attempts using his technique, Josh began training to become a hand-to-hand specialist. He had begun studying a martial art style called Kyokushin karate. The style consisted of palm strikes, kicks, and blocks created by warriors of Nippon and seemed rather suited for an airhead like him.