Nev stopped training only inside the underground room.
That was the difference.
During the final stretch of the month, he began moving through the city again. Not openly, not recklessly. He went out early in the morning or late at night, when streets were quieter and people paid less attention. He watched. Listened. Measured.
Fights were everywhere if one knew where to look.
Guild sparring yards. Temporary training rings built near the outer districts. Patrol rotations where Holders practiced formation work. Even tavern brawls had value if one observed closely enough. Nev never interfered. He stood at a distance, leaning against walls or sitting among crowds, eyes half-lidded, letting his instincts do the work.
People moved differently when they believed no one important was watching.
Nev catalogued everything.
He watched a Tier 2 Flow Holder dominate three lower-ranked trainees without raising his voice. The man relied on rhythm rather than strength, forcing his opponents to move where he wanted before striking. Nev memorized the footwork and later broke it down into fragments, identifying the moments where balance could be disrupted.
He watched a sword specialist from Obsidian Order demonstrate defensive forms. Clean. Conservative. Efficient. No wasted swings. No arrogance. Nev noted how the man never fully committed unless victory was guaranteed.
He watched failures too.
A reckless Holder overreached and tore his own energy channels. A promising trainee collapsed after forcing power he could not sustain. Nev learned as much from those moments as he did from victories.
At night, he returned home and tested what he had seen.
The underground room echoed with controlled violence.
Nev recreated movements piece by piece. He slowed them down. Changed angles. Shortened steps. Where a technique relied on brute force, he stripped it down to timing instead. Where a form assumed higher tier energy, he replaced it with positioning and intent.
He failed often.
But every failure refined his understanding.
By the third week, something subtle happened.
Nev stopped copying.
Instead, he began altering.
He no longer tried to reproduce techniques exactly as he saw them. He adjusted them to his own body, his instincts, his limits. He found that certain movements suited him better than others. Sharp directional changes. Sudden stops. Feints that exploited anticipation rather than speed.
The instinct shard responded well to this.
When Nev committed to a movement that aligned with his perception, his body followed without hesitation. When a motion conflicted with his instincts, resistance appeared immediately. It was not pain. It was rejection. He learned to listen to that feedback.
One night, while practicing counters against imaginary strikes, he realized something important.
He was no longer reacting after attacks began.
He was moving at the moment intent formed.
This was dangerous knowledge.
If others noticed, questions would follow.
So Nev hid it.
He allowed himself to be slower in public. Less precise. He stumbled deliberately during light sparring sessions. He missed obvious openings when watched. Only when alone did he let himself move freely.
He became careful.
On the twenty-ninth day, Nev tested himself properly.
He left the estate before dawn and traveled to the outer forest paths where patrols rarely went. There, among broken stone markers and old monster tracks, he practiced live movement. Dodging imaginary strikes. Drawing and sheathing his sword repeatedly. Sprinting, stopping, turning, and striking without warning.
At one point, he felt something shift.
Not power. Control.
His breathing remained steady even under exertion. His muscles responded instantly without lag. His awareness stretched outward, catching small disturbances in the air, the movement of leaves, the presence of distant creatures.
Nev stood still and listened.
For the first time since arriving in this world, the noise of existence felt organized.
That night, he returned home exhausted but satisfied.
The next morning marked the end of the month.
Nev woke before the sun rose. He washed, dressed, and ate quietly. Mei noticed the difference immediately. Not because he looked stronger, but because his movements were calm. Intentional. He no longer hesitated before standing or reaching for things.
She watched him carefully but said nothing.
Nev did not go underground that day.
Instead, he stood by the window of his room and looked out at the city.
One month.
In that time, he had not advanced a tier. His official status remained unchanged. To the world, he was still a newly registered Holder with untested potential.
But Nev knew better.
He had built a foundation that would not collapse under pressure. He had refined instincts that could save his life before power ever would. He had learned restraint, patience, and concealment.
Most importantly, he had learned how to learn quickly.
Nev picked up his sword and fastened it at his waist.
It felt right.
Somewhere in the city, guilds moved pieces across invisible boards. Monsters gathered beyond the borders. The cult continued its work in shadows. None of them knew what had changed.
That was fine.
A month of silence was enough.
Now it was time to step back into the world.