It had been two days since the incident. We still had around two weeks of travel left to reach the capital of the duchy. Zen was busy practicing his sword. He knew he had so much to improve. He wanted to use the sword with his left hand. He wanted to dual-wield.
I don't know how the situation would change on the battlefield. Who knows if I couldn't use my right hand? So I started to practice the sword with my left hand.
Red suddenly chimed in, "Just say you wanted to look cool with dual swords."
Zen coughed. "Not at all. I never thought about that."
Did I?
"No… definitely not."
For the past two days, Zen had been practicing using his left hand in his daily activities—like eating. He wanted his mind to register the left hand as natural.
In the beginning, it was way too tough.
His hand would shake too much. When he tried to eat, the food would go anywhere but his mouth.
He faced a lot of difficulty.
But somehow… he gradually got used to it.
Now he could use his left hand without too much difficulty.
For now, Zen started using it in his training as well—push-ups, martial arts practice, everything.
It was too much.
It felt like he was starting all over again from the beginning.
Everything was difficult again.
Zen wanted to give up in the middle, but he chose not to. He wouldn't break down that easily—not until he grew strong.
Four days had already passed since the incident. Today, Zen decided to practice swordsmanship with his left hand.
Zen tightened his grip on the sword.
Left hand.
Still unfamiliar. Still unstable.
He exhaled slowly.
"Stance."
Left foot forward. Knees slightly bent. Body centered.
Wrong.
He adjusted.
Again.
Better.
The blade rose.
A horizontal slash followed.
Clumsy. Uneven. Full of gaps.
Zen clicked his tongue.
Too slow. Too open. Too obvious.
He reset his stance without hesitation.
Again.
Slow. Controlled. No force.
Only form.
The sword moved through the air.
Still rough… but slightly cleaner.
Zen didn't stop.
Again.
And again.
Each repetition carved itself into his arm.
His left shoulder started burning. His wrist trembled under the unfamiliar weight.
The blade felt heavier than it should.
Still—he continued.
"Don't rely on instinct…" he muttered.
"Build it."
Sweat slid down his face.
His breathing turned heavier.
But his movements slowly started to tighten.
Less hesitation.
Less waste.
More control.
Zen paused for a moment.
Lowered the blade slightly.
His arm was shaking.
But his stance didn't break.
He stared at his left hand.
Still weak.
Still far from usable.
But no longer chaotic.
"…Again."
He raised the sword once more.
And continued.
It's been two days since Zen started practicing the sword with his left hand. For now, he could swing his sword without shaking. His stance had become more stable… but not better.
He still had a lot of work to do.
Suddenly, Zen had an idea.
"Hey Red… can't you do that hologram thing you used to teach me martial arts? I need one for my sword practice."
Red said, "Yes host, I can do it if you want."
There was a moment of silence.
Then, in front of Zen, a hologram formed—sword in hand.
It was bulky. Heavy-built. Standing like a mountain in front of him.
Zen just stared at it.
He definitely wasn't intimidated… right?
He cursed Red internally.
You're trying to get me beaten to pulp…
Red replied calmly, "Host, you do not need to worry. It will only use force you can handle."
So began his sword training.
The hologram moved first.
No warning. No hesitation.
A straight sword strike came down toward Zen's shoulder.
Fast. Clean. Heavy.
Zen reacted instantly.
Left hand raised. Blade angled.
Clang—!
The impact shot through his arm.
His wrist shook violently.
Too much force.
Zen clicked his tongue and stepped back.
"…Tch."
The hologram didn't pause.
It came again.
Horizontal slash.
Zen raised his sword to block—
Clang!
His stance broke slightly. His heel dragged against the ground.
Wrong.
Zen narrowed his eyes.
"Too direct…" he muttered.
The next strike came faster.
Diagonal.
Zen barely lifted his blade in time.
Clang!
His arm went numb for a split second.
He gritted his teeth.
"So this is 'force I can handle'…"
The hologram advanced again.
No emotion. No rhythm. Just pressure.
Strike after strike.
Zen stopped trying to meet force with force.
His breathing slowed.
His feet adjusted.
Step back. Angle. Turn.
The next strike came.
Zen didn't block it head-on.
He shifted his blade slightly to the side.
Shhhk—!
The sword slid off his guard instead of crashing into it.
Less impact.
Less pain.
Zen's eyes sharpened.
Another strike came immediately.
Zen moved earlier this time.
Not reaction—anticipation.
Blade met blade at an angle.
The attack was deflected to the side.
The hologram's sword missed completely.
Zen stayed in place this time.
No retreat.
"…Again."
The hologram obeyed.
Strike.
Zen deflected.
Strike.
Zen redirected.
His arm still burned. His wrist still shook.
But he was no longer being overwhelmed.
He was starting to control the exchange.
Step by step.
Block.
Parry.
Deflect.
And endure.
Another two days passed, and Zen slowly got used to using his left hand. The movements no longer felt completely foreign. Still imperfect… but no longer clumsy.
He wanted to fight a real battle now.
Not training. Not illusions.
Something real.
So he was currently searching for a beast—doesn't matter if it was F or E rank. At this point, it didn't matter anymore.
Finally, he spotted an E-rank beast.
It looked like a rabbit—cute, innocent.
But Zen knew better than to be fooled by its appearance.
The moment Zen got close enough to confirm it, the beast noticed him.
Its red gem-like eyes glowed faintly.
Slowly, it raised its head.
What should have been a harmless face twisted—revealing rows of sharp, spike-like teeth hidden beneath its small frame.
And then… it smiled.
Zen felt goosebumps spread across his entire body.
The creature jumped.
Its legs released an explosive force—like a compressed spring snapping loose.
The ground beneath it cracked, spider-like fractures spreading outward from the impact point.
Then it shot forward.
Straight at Zen.
A kick came in instantly.
Zen reacted on instinct.
He raised his sword and deflected it.
Clang—!
The impact traveled up his arm. His wrist shook violently.
He staggered back half a step.
For a moment, his balance wavered—he almost lost it.
But somehow, by forcing his weight down, he held his ground.
The rabbit used Zen's sword as a pivot point and kicked off it, springing backward.
The force of the movement made Zen stagger a few steps back.
Before he could fully recover, the rabbit hit a tree and launched itself again.
Another kick came in mid-air.
But this time, Zen was ready to absorb the impact.
Blade met force. Body met pressure.
A shockwave rippled through the clash as both movements collided—leg and sword resisting each other.
But it still wasn't over.
The rabbit twisted in mid-air, using the sword again to redirect its momentum. It shot forward and came in with a sudden side kick.
Zen raised his arm and blocked.
The rabbit jumped back a few steps.
Mana flared in its legs. Heat began to rise.
Zen gripped his sword tighter. He knew it—something big was coming.
Rushing in would be useless now.
He had to defend.
A fireball began to form in the rabbit's leg—compressed, unstable, burning hotter with each second.
Then the creature moved.
It kicked upward, juggling the fireball with terrifying control, keeping it suspended as it twisted mid-air.
And it smiled.
All its teeth were exposed now—wide, deliberate… almost mocking.
As if challenging Zen to block it.
The fireball launched itself.
Zen was drenched in sweat now. His instincts screamed before his thoughts could catch up.
He ducked low and rolled to the side—barely avoiding the first blast as it tore through the space he had just stood in.
The heat brushed past his back like a wave of fire.
He pushed himself up instantly.
Another fireball was already coming.
Straight. Fast. Unforgiving.
Zen brought his sword up and blocked—
BOOM—!
The moment it touched his blade, it exploded.
The impact shattered through his guard, throwing him backward as flames burst outward in a violent shockwave.
But that wasn't the end.
The smoke slowly cleared.
Zen's vision sharpened—and what he saw made his stomach drop.
More than ten fireballs hovered in the air, each one spinning, burning, ready to be launched at any moment.
Zen gulped. His grip on the sword tightened.
"…Tch."
His arms felt heavy all of a sudden. His breathing slowed—not from calmness, but pressure.
For a brief moment, a thought crossed his mind.
Should I switch hands…?
He immediately shut it down.
"…No."
A bitter smile tugged at his lips.
"Fuck… I'm going to get roasted."
The rabbit launched all the fireballs at once.
The air lit up red—like the sky itself was burning.
Zen steadied himself for the impact.