I read through the information twice, my heart pounding with excitement despite my exhaustion. I'd done it. Three days of brutal training, and I'd successfully learned the first art of my family's legendary technique.
The system had recognized it. The technique was real, properly executed, worthy of being classified as a skill.
I turned to Jack, ready to see his reaction, and found him staring at me with an expression I hadn't seen before.
His usual stoic mask had cracked, revealing genuine surprise beneath. His eyes were slightly wider than normal, his mouth pressed into a thin line. He was looking at me like I'd done something he hadn't expected, something that had caught him completely off-guard.
For a long moment, he said nothing. Then a smile slowly spread across his face. Not a large smile, not some dramatic expression of joy. Just a small, satisfied smile that made him look years younger.
"Well," Jack said quietly, more to himself than to me. "Well."
He walked over to where I stood, still frozen with my arm extended, and examined the damage to the training dummy closely. His fingers traced the impact crater, feeling the splintered wood.
"Three days," he murmured. "Three days to learn First Light to the point of actually projecting cutting pressure."
He turned to look at me directly, and I saw something calculating in his gaze now. Like he was reevaluating assumptions he'd made.
"Your brother, Lord Abel, was considered a prodigy. Hero candidate, blessed with extraordinary talent, trained from childhood. It took him two weeks to reach this stage with First Light. Two weeks of practice before he could generate even a fraction of the pressure wave you just produced."
Jack's smile widened slightly.
"And you, the supposed disappointment, the one who abandoned training and threw himself into degeneracy for months, learned it in three days."
He crossed his arms, still studying me with that calculating expression.
"Either you've been hiding your true capabilities for years, or something fundamental has changed about you very recently. I don't particularly care which. What matters is that you're demonstrating aptitude that demands acknowledgment."
Jack walked over to his own equipment and pulled out a small leather-bound notebook. He flipped through several pages, then nodded to himself as if confirming something.
"Your original training schedule had you drilling First Light for two full weeks before I'd even consider assigning you a practical hunt. But if you can learn this quickly..."
He wrote something in the notebook, then closed it and tucked it away.
"New plan. You'll continue drilling First Light for the remainder of today and all day tomorrow. Repetition until the motion is burned into your muscle memory so deeply that you could execute it half-dead. I want that one percent proficiency to climb to at least five percent."
Jack walked to the weapons rack and selected a different practice sword, one that was slightly heavier and better balanced than the basic stick I'd been using.
"Use this from now on. You've earned something better than beginner equipment."
He tossed me the improved practice sword, and I caught it awkwardly with my non-dominant hand, my right arm still extended from the technique execution.
"Tomorrow afternoon, we add Phantom Step to your training regimen. You'll learn the basics while continuing to refine First Light. The day after, we add Heaven Splitter. By the end of the week, you should have rudimentary understanding of all three foundational arts."
Jack's expression became serious again, the calculating look fading back into his usual stern professionalism.
"On the eighth day, you return to the Saber Garden for your first practical hunt. I'm assigning you a specific target."
He pulled the notebook back out and showed me a page where he'd sketched a rough drawing of some kind of beast. It looked similar to the Crimson Maws I'd fought, but larger, with distinctive markings and more prominent fangs.
"This is a Crimson Alpha. It's the pack leader variant of the Crimson Maws you've already encountered. Significantly stronger, more intelligent, and more aggressive. Novice rank, but peak tier, on the cusp of advancing to Apprentice."
Jack closed the notebook and looked at me directly.
"You will track this beast, engage it in combat, and defeat it using First Light as the killing blow. You will return with its core as proof of the kill. This is not optional. This is not a suggestion. This is a direct order that carries the Duke's authority."
He paused, letting the weight of that statement settle.
"If you succeed, it will prove that you can apply what you've learned under actual life-or-death pressure. If you fail..."
He left the sentence unfinished, but the implication was clear. Failure meant death. The Saber Garden didn't offer second chances.
"Eight days," Jack repeated. "You have eight days to refine First Light, learn the basics of Phantom Step and Heaven Splitter, and prepare yourself mentally for combat against an opponent stronger than anything you've faced so far."
He turned and began walking toward the manor.
"I'm giving you the rest of today off. Eat. Rest. Let your body recover. Tomorrow we train even harder. Dismissed."
Jack disappeared into the building, leaving me alone in the courtyard surrounded by destroyed training dummies and the evidence of techniques I was only beginning to comprehend.
I looked down at the improved practice sword in my hand, then at my status screen, which I pulled up with a thought.
My mana had dropped to 15 out of 45, depleted from the intensive practice session. My stamina was even lower, my body running on fumes. But under my skills section, there it was.
First Light (Basic - 1%)
A real technique. A piece of my family's legendary combat style. Something I'd actually learned through blood, sweat, and endless repetition.
And in eight days, I'd have to use it to kill something that could very easily kill me first.
I sheathed the practice sword and began the walk back to my room, my mind already racing through everything I needed to do. Eight days wasn't much time. Eight days to master three techniques, to prepare for a hunt that would test everything I'd learned.
But as I walked, I felt something I hadn't felt in the three days since waking in this world.
Confidence.
Not arrogance. Not foolish certainty. Just genuine confidence that maybe, possibly, I could actually do this. I'd learned First Light in three days when a hero candidate took two weeks. I'd survived the Saber Garden and killed four Novice beasts while Unranked. I'd bonded with a legendary weapon and lied to a Grandmaster's face.
Maybe I was actually capable of living in this world. Maybe I could actually become strong enough to survive whatever came next.
The thought carried me through the manor halls, up the stairs, and into my room. I collapsed onto the bed, my body demanding rest, and for the first time since arriving in this world, I fell asleep without nightmares of Abel's face haunting my dreams.
Instead, I dreamed of blades moving faster than thought, of techniques that could split the heavens, of becoming someone worthy of the name Einsworth.
---
In his private office, Jack sat at his desk and opened his notebook again. He stared at the sketch of the Crimson Alpha for a long moment, then began writing observations in the margins.
Young Master shows unprecedented learning speed. Natural talent previously suppressed? Or recent awakening? Irrelevant.
What matters: he absorbed First Light fundamentals in three days. Lord Abel required fourteen days to reach equivalent proficiency despite superior baseline talent and years of consistent training.
Hypothesis: Recent trauma or life-threatening experience may have triggered latent potential. Or something else changed. The saber's influence? The Saber Garden itself?
He tapped his pen against the desk, thinking.
This is getting interesting. For the first time in months, perhaps years, training an Einsworth heir who might actually live up to the name.
Jack closed the notebook and leaned back in his chair, a small smile playing at his lips.
If the young master continues progressing at this rate, the Continental Academy is going to be very surprised when Kaine Einsworth arrives.
Let them be surprised. Let them underestimate the family's heir because of his past reputation.
Their mistake.
He stood and walked to the window, looking out over the training grounds where Kaine had just achieved something remarkable.
Three days, Jack thought again, shaking his head slightly. This is definitely getting interesting.