Michael's voice came softly. "This is not an insult," He replied calmly. "That's a starting point for you, if you're willing to bleed for this, then one day even your enemies will recognise the man you used to be."
He lowered the sword, and it dissolved back into the thin air from where it came.
"I think that this will be enough for your first lesson," Michael said. "Now, practice, a technique is not learned by just watching, but by repeating it until your bones remember the shape of it."
The panel through which the video of Michael was showing started to disappear slowly, and the peaceful garden in which Michael stood vanished.
The apartment of Silas was back in sight; the ceiling was cracked. The cheap ceiling fan was spinning, producing the creaking sound. His body was still in pain from the boss fight, and his muscles already felt heavy; just thinking about moving them stung his ego.
A new system panel appeared in front of the eyes, shimmering brightly.
