Chapter 30: (part 1- Strengthening, physically and courage)
One month and sixteen days passed. The next morning, I woke up early, still half-dazed, realizing I had fallen asleep on the bed again.
"Alright," SOMETHING/SOMEONE said. "Let's strengthen your body. Go outside—you can't train in this dark cave. Morning is the best time to train."
I stepped out into the light, the air cool against my skin. I looked around and found a rock nearby, heavy and rough, then bent down and lifted it up and down, again and again. For 4 minutes.
"What are you doing?" SOMETHING/SOMEONE asked.
"Uhmm... to Training, I'm trying to build muscles," I said, breathing heavily. "And to get stronger."
"By lifting heavy things and doing those strange movements again and again?" SOMETHING/SOMEONE asked.
"It's for muscle and stamina," I replied. "So I can be stronger."
SOMETHING/SOMEONE sighed. "If you want to survive, lift your sword or any weapon. But if you want to join a circus to impress people, then keep lifting rocks."
He continued, "A man who lifts a thousand pounds/litra might impress villagers with his strength and muscles. But a man who can slit a stag's throat silently from behind, eat raw meat just to survive for days, and still draw his bow with a dislocated shoulder or a broken finger... a man who can lift his sword with trembling hands and fight with the intent to live—that's the kind of man who truly impresses his family."
He paused for a moment, then said, "Can a man who lifts heavy things kill others without hesitation? Can a man who looks strong face an enemy far stronger than him?"
"No," he said quietly. "Because being Afraid is still better than being called a coward like them."
Then came the first real lessons:
(Downward cut) — from above the head to the waist, clean and straight.
(Diagonal cut) — from shoulder to hip, both sides.
(Thrust) — direct and fast, using the whole body, not just the arm.
Every motion began slow, repeated hundreds of times until it looked natural. SOMETHING/SOMEONE corrected the stance again and again. The sword must be fast, precise, and used with minimal wasted energy.
SOMETHING/SOMEONE teach me where to hit and how to move. He makes me memorize bleeding maps of weak spots: eye, bridge of the nose, chin, temple, throat, front and back of the neck, collarbone, solar plexus, ribs, kidneys, groin. Then the limbs: inside of the wrist, the elbow joint, the shoulder socket, the knee, the ankle, the toes — even the joints where bones meet. He points at tiny, painful places a single strike or twist will ruin: between the toes, the web of the hand, the soft pad behind the ear.
"Ain't this too dangerous?" I asked, voice small.
"Too dangerous?" the voice answered, flat. "Hit one wrong spot — and they'll have the time and strength to kill you."
He teaches simple, direct moves I can do in a few seconds. Flip an enemy by trapping an arm, stepping behind, and pulling the hip — feel the crack as they fall. A sharp palm to the chin snaps the head back; a thumb into the eye makes them blink wide and slow. Two fingers under the jawline lift and the legs go weak. A hard elbow into the temple stuns, then drive the knee into ribs — the thud is final. To choke, he shows me how to loop a vine around a wrist and run until it tightens, using the body's own momentum to clamp the throat.
Training drills: strike the temple, step out, sweep the knee, and run. Practice a palm strike—thud—then a follow-up hook—crack—then a shoulder lock to fold the arm. For joint work, he has me try and twist my own wrist and imagining the feeling of how the opponent's balance shifts. He makes me lift a rough stone with one hand, vines wrapped around my wrist; I run until my grip burns, then use that same burning grip to practice strangling and wrist locks on a wooden dummy made of vines and dried grass.
Still, most of my hours went to the sword — 85% percent of my training goes to swordwork, 15% percent to close, dirty hand-to-hand. He teach me hand to hand so when my sword is lost I still have three or four seconds time left to end the fight.
Day 1 to 5:
The sword feels heavier than I expected. My arms tremble after just a few swings. My stance is weak, my shoulders burn.
"Don't do that! It's wrong—do it again!!!!" he shouted, his voice sharp like a real teacher.
"That's not the same move, you fool (ἄφρων / áphrōn / μῶρος / mōros)!!!! Check your footsteps!!!!"
"Don't just swing mindlessly!!!!"
"Grip the sword properly, or it'll slip from your hands!!!!"
His voice echoed inside my head, harsh and relentless, drilling every word into me.
"Memorize every spot! Every movement!"
By nightfall, I was drained. My body ached from head to toe. "I'm... exhausted..." I whispered, my voice barely a breath.
Day 6 to 8:
My body is sore — shoulders, back, and wrists hurt the most. I move slower, but I try to copy every step the way I was taught. My hands feel raw from gripping too hard.
"My body hurts it feels very numb"
Day 9 to 10:
The soreness is mostly gone, and i start to move smoother. I breathe better and control my swings. The sword still feels heavy, but not impossible. I begin to notice how my feet and hands twitch and move together.
Day 11 to 14:
My stance is steadier now. I can hold the sword longer without shaking. My back feels stronger, and I can swing straighter. The pain in my arms turns into warmth — my body starts to get used to it.
Day 15 to 17:
The movements feel more natural. I can cut cleaner and recover faster. My grip no longer slips, and my shoulders no longer scream. I sweat a lot, but my breath stays steady.
Day 18 to 22:
My body begins to change. My shoulders feel firm, my arms tighter, and my waist stronger. I can feel my core working with each swing. The sword no longer drags me — I control it.
Day 23 to 26:
I start to feel lighter on my feet. The sword follows my eyes now, not my hands. My cuts are sharper, and I can stop them exactly where I want. My body moves like one piece.
Day 27 to 28:
My balance is better, and even simple movements feel powerful. My back feels straight, and my steps make almost no sound. I start to enjoy the rhythm — lift, breathe, strike.
Day 29 to 30:
My arms and sides feel strong. The sword feels lighter. I can train longer without rest. The grip of my hands is rougher, but tight. I feel calm when I swing — focused, not tense.
Day 31:
I look and feel different. My shoulders are broader, my posture taller, and my steps firm. Every swing feels fast, clean, precise and full of power.
Two months and fifteen days have passed since I first arrived in this place. I spent the second month entirely on training.
SOMETHING/SOMEONE spoke, "You took a whole long month just to master thrusts, downward, and diagonal cuts? With the help of the potions to relieve the pain in each day, you're not exactly gifted — barely average at best. Yet somehow, you improved. So tell me, after a month, what does it feel like?"
I look at my body "My body started to change — my shoulders grew firm, my grip stronger, and the muscles along my arms and sides began to form. Each downward cut hardened my back and chest, each diagonal swing carved strength into my waist and hips, and every thrust tightened my core until the sword felt comfortable to me."
Two months and sixteen days.
As I walked out to gather snails (stonecap mosscrawler) for food like usual, I found one I had never seen before. It stood out—completely different from the *moss crawlers.* It was smaller than the others and had a normal shell, similar to the ones from my previous world, round and wheel-shaped like (Ryssota ovum). But its color was strange—a deep mix of black and blue that glowed faintly.
Its face looked... odd. Maybe "derpy" was the right word. It had wide, glowing dark-blue pupils set in black sclera, and a crooked smile shaped like an upside-down triangle. It almost looked like a cartoon character, or maybe a doll someone had left behind.
Its long antenna ended in glowing blue orbs, while its body was pale white in color, glistening with slimy moisture. But the strangest thing about it wasn't its appearance—it was the sound. It made this loud, bizarre noise, something no normal snail should be able to produce. "Tkkk! Yip-yip-yip!" The sound reminded me of a small chihuahua barking—those annoying ones that used to bark at me every time I walked past their house.
It was about the size of an ordinary adult snail, leaving behind a shiny glittering trail wherever it moved. But when night came, that trail would begin to glow, turning into a soft, radiant blue light that shimmered beautifully in the darkness.
I'm browsing the 1st journal/book (Journey to the Northwest) and The Greatest Mystery [Draconis Aeternum], but found nothing—no drawings, no records, not even a single description of that snail.
Then SOMETHING/SOMEONE suddenly spoke, saying. "That's a **Nightless Snail**—a snail that eats other snails. But it's not really a snail. It's a cannibalistic creature that can control and command other snails, either to fight for it or become its meal. It was originally born from star explosion/."
"Look closely—, it may look very unique. But That weird face, those eyes—it's like it's mocking you while staring. But don't get fooled or get too close. It can shoot continuous thin beams of cosmic-blue light from its mouth, reaching about three to five meters. The beam looks as thin as a thread, but if it hits you for five seconds, it'll make your skin itch. Ten seconds, it starts to burn. After a minute, it'll sting like acid."
"Its stomach releases about one milligram of stardust toxin/radiation every time it attacks. That toxin compresses into tiny pins inside its body. If it hits you, you'll feel numbness, nausea, excessive sweating, and painful stinging—and death comes in about six hours. It can fire over sixteen times a day, each shot lasting one to two minutes. So don't even think of going near it."