After the day we discussed his ability, the team reached a decisive conclusion with very little debate: no missions for the entire coming week.
The objective was simple and clear—dedicate themselves fully to training Daron to control that mysterious sensation.
Or at the very least, learn how to trigger it through his own will instead of relying on chance.
When someone asked why this matter had suddenly become such a priority, the answer was unanimous:
“There’s a world of difference between sensing that feeling whenever you choose and waiting for it to appear by accident.
That difference could determine Daron’s future—or whether he lives at all.
No sane person entrusts their life to luck.”
The team decided to take turns training him each day.
This wasn’t ordinary practice.
It was a test of limits, perseverance, and the ability to confront oneself.
Training began at sunrise.
The empty training grounds on the outskirts of the city were cold in the early morning.
The dirt beneath their feet was still stiff from the winter night, and every breath filled the lungs with crisp, clean air.
Few people ever passed through this place at such an hour.
Naturally, Karl was the first to step forward.
The two stood facing each other, three meters apart.
Karl held his elegant twin swords.
Daron gripped his newly repaired blade, its polished edge gleaming beneath the morning sun.
Karl attacked without warning.
One strike after another—fast, precise, calculated.
The first came from the right.
The second swept across in a perfectly executed horizontal slash.
The third was the strongest, accompanied by a sudden burst of footwork.
The purpose of the exercise was simple:
Would Daron sense the attacks before they happened?
Or would he fail?
The answer was disappointing.
A feeling of helplessness crashed into him, as though the earth itself wanted to swallow him whole.
The third attack landed and sent him sprawling.
Failure gnawed at him from the inside.
He couldn’t summon the sensation.
The frustration ran so deep that, for a moment, he felt unworthy of standing on a battlefield at all.
Karl looked down at him from where he lay on the ground.
“Get up,” he said coldly.
“We’re continuing.”
“But I couldn’t feel it!”
The words escaped him, carrying equal parts disbelief and frustration.
Karl offered a brief smile.
“So what?
Did you expect me to stop?” This chapter was copied from novelping.com without permission.
His voice hardened.
“I’m not quitting until your hands are bleeding.
The mercenary world isn’t that forgiving.”
The words struck like a spark in the cold morning air.
Daron rose again.
Stronger.
More determined.
And he realized something.
The helplessness he felt wasn’t proof of failure.
It was merely the first step toward understanding.
The second round began.
Then the third.
Then the fourth.
Each lasted longer than the last.
Each was harsher.
More demanding.
The body learned before the mind did.
Muscles remembered before thought could catch up.
By the eleventh round, they had been fighting for more than twenty uninterrupted minutes.
His body was exhausted.
Sweat soaked him from head to toe.
Yet the feeling still refused to appear.
Then—
Suddenly.
As if something inside him finally broke in exactly the right way.
He felt it.
The same mysterious sensation.
It was there.
Clear.
Immediate.
No searching required.
No effort needed.
Karl seemed exposed this time.
Guided by that strange instinctive awareness, Daron moved with fluid precision.
He blocked every strike before it reached him.
Then he counterattacked.
A clean blow. This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
Karl hit the ground.
The victory was both physical and psychological.
His breathing came in ragged gasps.
His body felt as though it were burning.
Yet the satisfaction of controlling the sensation—even once—outweighed every ounce of exhaustion.
He stared at Karl as the swordsman lifted his head from the dirt.
For the first time, Daron saw something in his eyes.
Genuine surprise.
And respect.
“We did it…” Daron said between breaths.
“I really did it.”
By midday, they broke for lunch and rest.
The entire team sat together, eating in temporary silence before discussion gradually resumed.
Training continued throughout the afternoon.
The bouts grew longer.
More exhausting.
With every duel, Daron’s understanding of the mysterious sensation deepened.
By sunset, he felt he had gained experience more valuable than any reward.
Karl benefited as well.
He had begun to recognize the limitations of his own style when facing someone capable of reading his intentions and movements.
That evening, the team gathered at Sarah’s inn for dinner.
Karl was the first to speak.
“Daron’s improvement was incredible.
He started analyzing my style and responding faster with every attack.”
Nour nodded.
“He performed better in every match than the one before it.
Even his will seemed to adapt to Karl’s movements.”
Jin added thoughtfully,
“I agree.
He wasn’t just reading Karl’s will.
He was reading his entire fighting style.”
Finally, Amy spoke.
“I think this ability enhances his awareness of everything around him.
It analyzes the wills he senses, filters them, and helps him respond in the most effective way possible.”
After discussing it together, they all reached the same conclusion.
They would continue.
No matter how small the progress might seem, every step brought Daron closer to understanding the truth behind his power.