After finishing his meal, Conrad wiped his hands and headed toward his room.
As he was in the hallway, where his room is,
Someone was already waiting for him.
Conrad recognized him instantly.
Adarte.
The man looked thinner than before, paler, his posture no longer aggressive but guarded.
Crutches rested under his arms, and though he stood upright, every movement hinted at lingering pain.
His eyes met Conrad's.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Adarte broke the silence.
"I don't know if you have time, but I'd like to talk. I want to ask you some things."
Conrad studied him for a brief second.
He saw no hostility, only frustration, curiosity, and a desire to understand.
He nodded.
"Alright."
Conrad opened the door and gestured inside.
"Sit wherever you like," Conrad said. "Do you want a drink? Whiskey?"
Adarte shook his head lightly.
"The doctor says no alcohol for now."
Conrad shrugged, poured himself a glass, and took a seat across from him.
Adarte adjusted himself in the chair, crutches set aside.
After a moment, he spoke.
"Why do you think I lost?"
There was no bitterness in his tone.
"I'm trying to learn," he continued. "Trying to improve."
Conrad didn't answer immediately.
He took a small sip of whiskey. Then he leaned back slightly and spoke.
"Crude."
Adarte blinked.
"Crude?"
"Yes," Conrad affirmed.
The word lingered in the air.
Adarte frowned, then nodded slowly.
"Explain."
Conrad set the glass down.
"Your Nen is crude. Not weak. Just… unfinished."
Adarte didn't interrupt.
"You understand the basics," Conrad continued.
"Ten, Ren, Gyo. You can apply them instinctively, and that already puts you above most fighters. But knowing the basics and mastering them are two very different things."
Adarte clenched his good hand unconsciously.
"What do you mean by mastery?"
"Efficiency,"
Conrad replied immediately.
"Control. Intent. You use aura like a blunt instrument. You push more than you need to, leak more than you realize, and rely on your Hatsu to compensate."
Adarte exhaled through his nose.
"My ability is strong."
"It is," Conrad agreed.
"Sting: My Lovely Pain is the name of your ability, if I am not remembering wrong.
"As you said, it is dangerous."
"You turn damage into power, recoil into offense. It suits your mentality. But you built your entire fighting style around it."
Adarte's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Isn't that the point of a Hatsu?"
"No," Conrad said calmly.
"That's the mistake."
He leaned forward.
"A Hatsu should support your Nen, not replace it. You fight as if your ability is the foundation. It isn't. Nen itself is the foundation."
Adarte stayed silent, trying to understand the meaning behind the words.
He knew Conrad was not talking out of the arrogance of the winner but from the perspective of a friend who was trying to be honest and teach him the right way.
"You assumed," Conrad continued, "that any enemy you faced would fall before your right hand gave out."
"That you could finish the fight before your own condition became a problem. That assumption shaped everything you did."
Adarte looked away.
"And you didn't play into that."
"No," Conrad said.
"I didn't enter your range. I didn't trade blows. I didn't give you pain to convert into power. At least, you were not able to generate power using your ability via damaging me."
"You only did it by causing yourself harm."
"Which meant, as long as I keep my distance and dodge your attacks, you will get tired and harmed enough to be an easy target."
He tapped the arm of his chair lightly.
"You also never prepared for an opponent who wouldn't engage you on your terms."
Adarte frowned deeply.
"I chased you."
"You chased my shadow," Conrad corrected.
"Your footwork was aggressive but predictable."
"Your aura flared every time you prepared to strike. With Gyo alone, your intent was written all over your body."
"I am not that experienced, but experienced Nen users and martial artists can read you like a book without needing to use "Gyo" or Nen, just by experience."
Adarte's expression stiffened.
"You enhanced your jacket defensively, but you sacrificed flexibility. When you slammed the arena floor, you destroyed your own protection. You converted defense into offense without considering what came after."
"It may make sense to sacrifice your jacket to earn more power, as 'Nen' do work like that."
Adarte swallowed.
"And your glove," Conrad said.
"You poured everything into it. All your pain, all that stored vibration. You treated it like an absolute answer."
"It would have worked," Adarte said quietly. "If it landed."
"Yes," Conrad said. "But you never asked yourself why it didn't."
He paused, letting the question sink in.
"Because you were faster than me?" Adarte guessed.
"Partially," Conrad said.
"But more importantly, because I was calm. Because I read you."
"You relied on instinct and momentum. I relied on observation."
Adarte clenched his jaw.
"So what should I have done?"
Conrad met his gaze directly.
"You should have trained your basics until they stopped being 'basics.' Ken to stabilize your defense without destroying your clothes. Ryu to adjust aura mid-combat instead of committing everything at once. Better Shu control so your bat didn't bleed aura uselessly."
He continued,
"You should have asked yourself what happens if your enemy refuses close combat. What happens if they're faster? What happens if they target your condition instead of your body?"
"What would you do if they were able to take the "Metal Bat" you are using as a weapon and a condition for your hatsu?"
"Or, if they are patient enough to just wait for you to keep harming yourself."
Adarte looked down at his injured right hand.
His voice was quieter when he spoke again.
"I thought pain was my strength."
"It is," Conrad said gently. "But pain without control is just suffering."
Silence settled between them.
After a long moment, Adarte nodded slowly.
"So… if I want to improve?"
Conrad leaned back.
"Forget your ability for a while. Train your ten until it feels like breathing. Learn to keep Ren stable under pressure. Practice Ryu until you can shift aura without thinking. When your foundation is solid, your Hatsu will become terrifying."
Adarte let out a soft, humorless laugh.
"You're telling me to start over."
"No," Conrad said. "I'm telling you to finally start properly."
Adarte looked up at him, eyes sharp despite the exhaustion.
"Next time," he said quietly, "it won't be so easy."
Conrad smiled faintly.
"I wouldn't expect it to be."