The fourth day began the same way the previous three had, with Jack's knock that sounded like he was trying to break through solid oak.
I rolled out of bed, my body protesting every movement. The soreness from yesterday had somehow gotten worse overnight, muscles stiffening as they tried to repair themselves. But I forced myself upright, dressed quickly in fresh training clothes, and made my way to the courtyard.
Jack was already there, of course. Waiting with his arms crossed and an expression that suggested he'd been standing in that exact position for hours.
"Two minutes late," he said flatly. "Eighty burpees."
I dropped and began the punishment without argument. Somewhere around repetition forty, my arms started shaking. By sixty, I was barely managing to push myself off the ground. The final twenty were pure willpower, nothing else.
"Adequate," Jack said when I finished. "Now the standard warm-up."
One hundred push-ups. One hundred sit-ups. One hundred squats. Five laps around the training ground. My body screamed in protest, but it moved. That was what mattered.
When I finally completed the warm-up, gasping for air and drenched in sweat, Jack gestured to the center of the courtyard.
"First Light. Five hundred repetitions. I want to see improvement. Begin."
I settled into stance, drew the improved practice sword, and executed the technique. The motion felt smoother than yesterday, more natural. The mana flowed through the channels with less resistance.
The pressure wave struck a training dummy twenty feet away, leaving a shallow gouge in the reinforced wood.
"Again."
Draw, cut, release. Reset. Draw, cut, release. Reset.
The repetitions blurred together. Fifty. One hundred. Two hundred. My mana pool depleted and recovered in cycles, the enhanced regeneration from my titles keeping me functional despite the constant drain.
Around repetition three hundred, something shifted. The technique that had required conscious focus yesterday started happening almost automatically. My body knew the motion now, had internalized it to the point where thought was becoming unnecessary.
Draw, cut, release. The blade moved faster than before. The pressure wave hit harder.
"Better," Jack called from where he stood observing. "You're transitioning from learned to known. Continue."
Four hundred. Four fifty. Five hundred.
When I finished the final repetition, sweat poured down my face and my arms felt like they were made of lead. But the technique was definitely improving. The motion was becoming more fluid, more instinctive.
Jack walked over and examined the training dummy I'd been striking. Multiple gouges marked its surface, clustered in roughly the same area. He nodded once, seeming satisfied.
"Acceptable progress. Now we add Phantom Step to your training."
Jack moved to an open area of the courtyard and gestured for me to pay attention.
"Phantom Step is the second art of the Flash God Technique. Where First Light emphasizes explosive offensive capability, Phantom Step emphasizes mobility and positioning. The philosophy is simple: speed means nothing if you're in the wrong place."
He settled into a ready stance, his body perfectly balanced.
"Watch carefully. I'll demonstrate at quarter speed first."
Jack's feet moved in a pattern that looked almost like a dance. Three steps that somehow carried him fifteen feet to the left while simultaneously moving forward. His body flowed like water, never losing balance, never becoming vulnerable.
Even at quarter speed, the technique was mesmerizing.
"Phantom Step consists of three rapid movements executed in sequence," Jack explained, returning to his starting position. "Each movement is small individually, but combined they create the illusion of instantaneous repositioning. Observers often report that practitioners simply vanish and reappear elsewhere."
He demonstrated again, this time at half speed.
"The first step is a lateral push-off. You drive hard off your rear foot, launching your body perpendicular to your current facing. The key is committing fully to the direction. Hesitation ruins the technique."
His body moved laterally, covering ground that shouldn't have been possible from a single step.
"The second step is a redirecting pivot. As your lead foot plants, you rotate your hips and shoulders to face the new direction while simultaneously pushing off again. This converts lateral momentum into forward momentum without losing speed."
The pivot was sharp and precise, his body changing direction mid-movement without any visible loss of velocity.
"The third step is the completion. You plant firmly and settle into whatever stance or position you need for your next action. Attack, defend, retreat, it doesn't matter. Phantom Step delivers you to the optimal location, and the completion ensures you're ready to act immediately."
Jack executed the full sequence at three-quarters speed, and even watching carefully, I had trouble tracking the motion. His body seemed to blur, covering distance that should have required more time.
"The mana circulation for Phantom Step is more complex than First Light," he continued, pulling out his notebook and sketching another diagram. "You're not just enhancing your muscles. You're manipulating your body's momentum and inertia through precise mana application."
He showed me the sketch. The mana pathways were intricate, branching through the legs in patterns that looked almost geometric.
"Energy flows from your core down into your legs in three distinct pulses, one for each step. The first pulse provides explosive lateral force. The second pulse stabilizes your body during the pivot while maintaining momentum. The third pulse arrests your motion and grounds you for the completion."
Jack closed the notebook.
"The timing is critical. Execute the pulses too slowly and you're just taking three fast steps. Execute them too quickly and you'll lose control, probably fall flat on your face. The three pulses must be perfectly synchronized with the footwork."
He demonstrated once more at full speed, and this time he truly did seem to vanish and reappear. One moment he was in front of me. The next he was twenty feet to my left and slightly forward. No blur of motion, no visible transition. Just instant repositioning.
"Now you try. Start with the footwork only, no mana. I need to see that you understand the physical mechanics before we add energy manipulation."
I moved to where Jack had been standing and tried to replicate the footwork pattern I'd observed. Lateral push-off, redirecting pivot, completion.
I stumbled on the second step, my pivot completely wrong, and nearly fell.
"Your weight distribution during the pivot is completely off," Jack said immediately. "You're leaning too far forward, which kills your momentum. The pivot requires perfect balance. Again."
Lateral push, pivot, complete. This time I stayed on my feet, but the motion was clumsy and slow.
"Better. Your pivot timing is still wrong. The rotation should begin the instant your lead foot touches the ground, not after. Again."
Push, pivot, complete. The sequence felt slightly more natural this time.
"Again."
I repeated the footwork pattern over and over. Fifty times. One hundred times. Two hundred times. Jack corrected every flaw, every mistimed movement, every instance of improper weight distribution.
"Your shoulders are rotating before your hips. They should move together. Again."
"Your rear foot is dragging during the pivot. It needs to push off clean. Again."
"Your completion stance is too narrow. You're vulnerable to being knocked off balance. Again."
The sun climbed higher in the sky. Morning became afternoon. My legs burned from the constant motion, the explosive push-offs taking their toll.
But slowly, incrementally, the footwork began to click. The three steps started flowing together instead of feeling like separate actions.
"Stop," Jack said after what felt like the thousandth repetition. "You've internalized the basic mechanics. Now we add mana circulation."
He demonstrated the mana flow pattern again, this time having me place my hand on his leg so I could feel the energy pulses as they occurred.
"Feel that? Three distinct surges, perfectly timed with the footwork. That's what you're aiming for."
I pulled my hand back and tried to replicate it. Gathered mana in my core, pushed it down into my legs in three pulses, and attempted the footwork simultaneously.
The dual focus was even harder than it had been with First Light. The footwork fell apart completely as soon as I tried to add mana, my body unable to maintain the precise timing while also manipulating energy.
I ended up flat on my face.
"Expected," Jack said without sympathy. "You're trying to do two complex things at once. Your brain can't handle it yet. Again."
Push, pivot, complete, with mana. I stayed upright this time but the technique was completely ineffective. The mana pulses were mistimed, the footwork sloppy.
"Again."
The afternoon blurred into evening. Repetition after repetition, falling more often than not, slowly learning to coordinate the physical motion with the energy manipulation.
By the time the sun began to set, I could execute something approximating Phantom Step. Not fast, not smooth, but recognizably the same technique Jack had demonstrated.
"Enough," Jack said as darkness fell. "You've made acceptable progress for day one of Phantom Step training. Tomorrow we continue refining both First Light and Phantom Step. Dismissed."
I limped back to my room, collapsed on the bed, and lost consciousness almost immediately.