While the others slept I decided to train.
There was no point in lying down when my body had already rested, and the conversation with whatever lived inside my head kept replaying. Polish your actual weapon… easy to say when you weren't the one aiming it. Easy to say when you were a mysterious voice with no arms.
The problem wasn't Switch, the problem was precision.
During the serpent fight, I'd split two of them at once by creating dual mental boxes simultaneously. It had worked. Recreating it reliably was another matter entirely.
Every time I tried it on the rocks scattered around the outpost, one cut landed clean while the other drifted. Still, I kept going.
Switch. Wrong angle.
Switch. Better, but still off.
Switch. Closer…?
The moon crossed most of the sky before the rhythm started settling into place. By the time the morning lightshone over the canyon walls, the ground around the bunker looked like a mess.
