'I am ready.'
More than last time. Now that he understood this world's powers were the real deal. After witnessing Cian's speed and hearing that he wasn't even in the second rank, yet was still frighteningly strong.
Cyrus couldn't help but look forward to what awaited him. Quickly grabbing his karambit and short sword, he sped downstairs in his new gear.
It was simple, with minimal padding and protection, but it was exactly what Cyrus needed. He couldn't afford to rely on his gear as a crutch.
As he passed through the hall, Cyrus noticed that his father was watching him intently.
'I wonder what he's thinking about…'
Cian had made it clear that their father wasn't a bad person. Just a strict man who wanted the best for his sons. Outside, Cyrus resumed training against the wooden dummy.
He noticed that he had been using it mostly to test his strength and speed. Useful, but also a waste.
'I need to think deeper.'
And so, Cyrus tried ideas that had been forming in his mind.
'First, get in close on their left.'
Then, use the short sword to force them to their right and block any counterattack.
Cyrus lifted his right arm, feeling the familiar weight of the karambit. Shifting his foot, he imagined the dummy fighting back. Countering and Reacting.
'So many possible moves.'
'I have to filter them, one by one.'
The crescent-shaped karambit whistled through the air.
An uppercut.
Deadly at close range, far more than any ordinary strike. If the karambit's hook caught even once, escape would become nearly impossible.
With the short sword guarding the other side, the opponent would be forced into predictable movements. From there, Cyrus could press the attack with momentum on his side.
He repeated the sequence again and again… until on the final attempt, the short sword slipped from his grip.
The moment his hand emptied, he felt naked.
'With only the karambit… I feel so weak.'
That was a weakness Cyrus couldn't ignore. instead of wallowing, he headed back inside to take a small break.
Opening the small door on the side of the house, Cyrus found his little brother, Elijah, playing with what looked like a toy monster.
"Elijah, what are you doing?"
He didn't turn around.
"I'm practising for my entrance exam! It won't be long until I become a Hunter too!"
"I see… How about I help?"
He spun around immediately.
"Really!? You will?"
"Of course. Just tell me what to do."
Once his elder brother had sat beside him, Elijah eagerly began explaining how to move the figures. The floor was cold against his legs, and all of Elijah's toys were scattered around like some battlefield he'd been arranging all morning.
A couple of beast figurines were lying on their sides, one missing an arm, but he didn't seem to care.
His hands moved fast, tapping the wooden pieces together with this strange confidence only a kid could have.
Elijah and Cyrus battled; Cyrus was the beast, and Elijah was the hunter. Of course, Cyrus lost every time.
Sometimes, he'd make little sound effects under his breath, trying to hide them whenever he noticed Cyrus looking.
Time flew by as they chatted and played. Eventually, the sky outside dimmed.
As Cyrus stood to leave, he felt a tug on his shirt.
"What's up, Elijah?"
His head hung low, shoulders drooping.
"Y-You're going to be away… all the time like Cian, aren't you?"
'Oh, I see.'
"I'll be gone for a little while,"
At the confirmation, Elijah slouched
"But I'll visit whenever I can. And hey, it won't be long before you're at the academy too. So don't slack on your training, alright?"
He didn't want to lie, but also wanted him to feel reassured.
Walking into the kitchen, Cyrus soon noticed his father standing there.
'He was watching.'
"Cyrus, I saw you training. You seemed to have noticed your lack of insight."
'Lack of insight? Does he mean the weakness?'
"My karambit?"
He nodded.
"Yes. You lack insight into the karambit; that is your weakness. Insight is what shapes a Hunter."
'So I need to gain more insight?'
He could study books, but the best method was simple: isolate the weapon and use it alone.
'I should stop relying on the short sword unless absolutely necessary.'
Heading back outside, karambit only, He caught a faint smile on his father's lips.
'He's softer than he lets on…'
Back outside, Cyrus tried to form a standalone combat style with the karambit.
Everything failed.
The karambit required close distance, but the moment he got close, he felt exposed. Unguarded. After an hour of experimentation, the only thing he'd confirmed was that without the short sword, his style had glaring holes.
But Cyrus still refused to give up.
As darkness crept over the estate, he had found no solution.
Then it hit him.
'I need two different styles, one for humans, one for beasts.'
Right now, Cyrus was trying to build a human-oriented style… but humans weren't his immediate threat.
Beasts were.
And against beasts, the karambit's hook would be invaluable. So his new goal became simple: learn how to use the hook to its maximum potential.
With that refreshed focus, he began training again.
"It's getting better…"
Assuming he faced beasts instead of people, his movements carried fewer flaws. He focused on using their momentum against them, similar to what he had attempted with Cian earlier.
'It's not perfect, but I am progressing.'
Then he felt something shift inside him.
His muscles tightened slightly. His movements changed, and his muscle memory for the karambit reshaped itself.
"Is this insight?"
He whispered.
A voice answered.
"No. It's interpretation."
Turning around with slight shock, Cyrus saw his father standing beside him.
"I didn't even notice him…"
"The manual is changing based on your interpretation of it."
He said.
"But interpretation requires insight."
Cyrus thought for a moment and then responded
"So… interpretation is how I interpret insight?"
"Correct. But be cautious. Interpretation can twist your abilities in unforeseen ways."
"Like how?"
He motioned for Cyrus to follow him inside.
They sat at the dining table, and his father handed him a thin stack of papers. As he began reading, his father spoke.
"Interpretation shapes your abilities. If you develop a negative interpretation, your ability may become deformed, a double-edged, uncontrollable sword."
'It's a case file.'
Cyrus read the title aloud
"The strongest Hunter."
"Yes. This man was the strongest in the world. Humanity's greatest shield. The closest person to ever surpass the Angel rank. Keep reading."
'The greatest ally turned greatest enemy…'
According to the file:
In 1772, Noir, humanity's foremost defender, made a fatal mistake. During a mission, he watched his lover, Clara, torn apart by a couple of abyssals.
His team barely escaped. Noir withdrew from the world afterwards, months of isolation, descending into nihilism and hatred.
Then, on December 5th, he vanished.
Weeks later, a recon team spotted him in the corrupted lands, battling three behemoths alone. His ability had changed—twisted beyond recognition. It consumed him even as he used it.
Tentacles, distorted and ever-changing, sliced through space.
Faces, twisted in agony or rage, appeared along their lengths.
In the end, both Noir and the Abyssals suffered fatal wounds. Yet Noir continued attacking relentlessly.
The fight allowed certain corrupted zones to be reclaimed… but the Abyssals later reappeared.
And Noir vanished once more.
"Is this true?"
Cyrus couldn't help but be a little suspicious
"Yes, Some who witnessed the fight swear they saw him change mid-battle. They believe he ascended to a tier beyond Angel."
'Interesting…'
'I was too eager. I should've realised this world had dangers equal to its potential.'
"So you think he's still alive?"
His father hesitated.
"There's no way to know. Too many unanswered questions, about where he's been, or what he has become."
That was reasonable.
'If he lived… why were the Abyssals still alive?'
The simplest assumption was that he was dead.
"I understand, Father. I'll be careful."
He exhaled heavily.
"Just don't get too close to people. This world is troubled and cruel, f given the chance, it will take everything from you."
His tone was morbid… but then it softened.
"Nevertheless, surround yourself with people who can keep you in check. And remember, we will always be here for you. Your family."
A faint but artificial smile crept onto Cryus' face.
'In both lives, someone had always looked out for me, even when I was a failure.'
He closed his eyes, thinking of Sandy… of his old father… and now, his new family alongside them.
All that remained in his near future was the entrance exam.
'I have to pass.'