"It is a significant challenge," Rhode acknowledged, feeling the subtle discord in his energy flow with each step. Yet, the difficulty only sharpened his focus and stoked his competitive spirit. He quieted his mind, funneling his concentration into the precise modulation of ki, directing it to his feet with intent.
At first, his adjustments were clumsy—erratic surges followed by precarious dips. But Rhode was a consummate analyst of his own performance. He processed each misstep, adapted, and recalibrated. Within hours, his movements smoothed into fluid grace. Soon, he was traversing the treacherous cone-tops with the casual ease of a stroll through a garden, achieving in less than a day what had taken Hasky considerable dedicated effort.
A true monster, Hasky thought, watching from the central platform with a mixture of awe and professional dismay. The sight was humbling.
His gaze then shifted to Aira, still locked in the battle for perfect static balance, and he felt a small, rueful sense of equilibrium return. If both Saiyans possessed such monstrous control, it would have been frankly disheartening.
Seeing Aira's repeated, frustrated adjustments—testing the exact threshold of Spirito needed to hover perfectly above the needle-point—Hasky saw echoes of his own arduous beginner's path. He called out, his tone firm but not unkind, "Aira, you must quiet your spirit to command it. Agitation breeds waste."
It was clear Rhode's rapid progress had gotten under her skin, stirring her innate fierceness into restlessness.
As Aira's fluctuating energy began to steady under his reminder, Hasky offered more pointed counsel. "Your physical power outpaces your spiritual refinement. Do not rush toward movement. Master the stillness first. Achieve perfect balance, then sustain it. This endurance will fortify your spirit and deepen your bodily awareness. A solid foundation is not a delay—it is the only path to true height."
His advice resonated. Master Roshi had spoken of similar principles on Earth, but she had been too single-minded in her pursuit of raw power to listen. It was only after her defeat by Rhode that she had begun to grasp the importance of control, seeking out Popo's guidance. She knew this was a journey of patience, not a sprint.
"Whew..." Aira exhaled, a long, steady breath that seemed to release her tension. She looked from Hasky to Rhode, who moved with infuriating ease across the spikes, and a quiet acceptance settled over her. "Understood."
The realization was clear: she could not match Rhode's pace in this arena. The gap in their foundational control, laid bare in this training, was something she had to acknowledge. For now, the only path forward was the slow, steady one.
Observing this from his practice, Rhode felt a pulse of satisfaction. Aira's willingness to temper her impatience and commit to the grind was a greater sign of growth than any sudden burst of power.
Turning his attention back to his own training, Rhode began to increase his speed. Walking was mastered. Now came the real test: running. Each footfall would spend mere fractions of a second on a point, demanding that perfect calibration of Spirito happen not just precisely, but instantaneously. The cones became a blur beneath him as he pushed his control to its next, thrilling limit.
The demand for precision was immense. Even with Rhode's formidable spiritual and soul energy, allocating the exact, minuscule amount of ki to his feet to maintain perfect equilibrium at blistering speeds was a formidable task. It was no longer an exercise in control, but in instinct. Yet, having mastered the principle at a walk, the path forward was one of incremental intensity—a process demanding not revelation, but repetition and time. And time was a resource Rhode had in abundance.
Half a month passed in a blur of focused exertion.
Swish. Swish. Swish!
Within the forest of needle-points, Rhode's form became a flickering phantom. He moved at speeds that blurred the lines between positions, his motion punctuated by abrupt, dead stops, violent accelerations, and fluid changes in direction. In half a month, he had not only adapted to high speed but had mastered its every variable, his control remaining flawless through every complex transition. The solo phase of dynamic training was complete.
"Rhode, you are unequivocally a monster," Hasky stated, his voice a mixture of awe and resigned amusement. Comparing himself to this pre-adolescent Saiyan was an exercise in futility. He found it far healthier to measure his own progress against Aira, who was still diligently fortifying her spiritual endurance in a state of motionless balance some distance away.
"Thank you," Rhode replied, his tone acknowledging the compliment without conceit. "What comes next?"
"Next," Hasky said, a glint of challenge entering his eyes, "you spar with me."
Solo cultivation, whether static or dynamic, was one thing. Combat was another realm entirely. It demanded that perfect balance and precise ki regulation become unconscious reflexes, maintained under pressure, while simultaneously defending against and launching attacks. Furthermore, combat would involve every part of the body making contact with the points—elbows, knees, shoulders—not just the feet. Theoretically, there should be an intermediate phase of training complex individual maneuvers on the cones to extend that control body-wide.
But Hasky had abandoned theory. With Rhode's preternatural comprehension, the most efficient path was to plunge him directly into the fire of live sparring. There, necessity would forge his control faster than any structured drill.
"Then let's begin!"
At the word sparring, a sharp, eager light ignited in Rhode's eyes. He understood the implication immediately and sank into a ready stance, his entire being focusing on the Yardratian master before him. The true test of Yardrat's teachings was about to start.
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