Late at night, Damian was still in the forest, practicing his axe forms under the pale moonlight.
His body moved on instinct now, trying to achieve that unity Kaiser had spoken about. The weapon and self becoming one inseparable entity.
Sweat dripped down his bare torso despite the cool night air. His muscles burned with exhaustion, but he kept pushing, kept practicing, kept searching for that deeper understanding.
Hours passed.
Finally, he stopped, his breathing heavy, and decided to call it a night.
He grabbed his discarded shirt and jacket, throwing them on as he started the walk back toward campus. His mind was occupied with everything Kaiser had taught him, replaying the old man's words and demonstrations.
'The weapon is me. I am the weapon.
Each strike carries absolute conviction of death.
Unity of self and–'
The air in front of him suddenly trembled and distorted, reality itself seeming to ripple like disturbed water.
