As Bharam caught the rubber ball in one hand, he looked at me and said,
"Siena confirmed that your strength increased."
"That's good."
"But your movement hasn't caught up."
I frowned slightly.
Bharam continued,
"Your head understands what it wants to do."
"You can see attacks."
"You can predict danger."
"But your body isn't moving the way you want it to."
"Your mind reacts first, but your body follows too slowly."
He pointed a finger at me.
"So we'll fix that."
"Your head needs to tell your body to move instantly."
"Not in a second."
"Not in a moment."
"In an instant."
Before I could respond, he threw the rubber ball directly at me.
I sidestepped easily.
But my eyes followed the ball as it flew past.
At that exact moment—
another ball struck my ribs.
Thud.
I fell sideways.
Bharam crossed his arms.
"Keep your eyes on everything."
"And keep your sensory field active."
Only then did I realize he had two balls.
The training began.
At first, Bharam threw them directly at me.
Simple attacks.
Straight lines.
Easy to dodge.
Using Beast footwork and my sensory field, I avoided most of them.
Then Bharam increased the difficulty.
He started predicting my reactions.
If one ball came toward my left leg, I would move right.
The second ball would already be heading toward where I planned to dodge.
Sometimes he deliberately forced me into bad positions.
Other times he made me think I had successfully avoided an attack—
only for another ball to appear from an unexpected angle.
And every time I got hit—
I had to run ten laps around the house.
No breaks.
No excuses.
No stopping.
At first, I tried relying on prediction.
Then I started intentionally changing my movements.
Sometimes I would stumble.
Sometimes I would fall.
Sometimes I would jump unexpectedly.
Anything to make my reactions less predictable.
Some attempts worked.
Most failed.
The balls still found me.
Then Bharam made things even worse.
He stopped throwing directly.
Instead, he bounced the balls off walls, barrels, trees, and even the ground.
The ball would appear to be moving one direction—
then suddenly change course.
More than once, I moved perfectly...
only for the ball to strike me from an angle I hadn't expected.
By evening, my entire body was covered in bruises.
But something had changed.
Not much.
Only a little.
Yet I could feel it.
My body was beginning to react faster.
The gap between thought and movement was shrinking.
Finally, Bharam lowered his hand.
"That's enough."
I nearly collapsed from relief.
He looked at me and smirked.
"Take a hot bath."
"Tomorrow those bruises will make you regret being alive."
Duracal, standing nearby, nodded.
"For once, I agree with him."
"Hot water."
"Immediately."
I could only nod while breathing heavily.
Even exhausted, I maintained Beast Breathing.
The moment I stopped, the spasms would likely return.
As I walked away, I noticed my fingers opening and closing unconsciously.
My body was more tired than it had been in weeks.
While soaking in the hot bath, Bharam's words replayed in my head.
Your head understands.
Your body doesn't.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized he was right.
Seeing danger wasn't enough.
Predicting attacks wasn't enough.
If my body couldn't move instantly, then all that awareness meant nothing.
A dead man could have perfect instincts.
He would still be dead.
After the bath, I returned to the house.
The pain had eased slightly.
Duracal was already waiting.
He sat across from me with a book resting on the table.
"I already explained the basics of magic."
He waved a hand dismissively.
"Don't waste your time digging too deeply into theory."
"You're a knight."
"Not a scholar."
"I'll teach you enough to understand how magicians think."
"That way you'll know how to kill one if you ever need to."
I nearly choked on my drink.
Duracal ignored me completely.
He snapped his fingers.
A small flame appeared above his fingertip.
Then he began explaining.
The properties of fire.
How heat could be controlled.
How cold mana could freeze.
How earth mana could reinforce defenses.
How different attributes behaved.
I listened carefully.
I asked very few questions.
I simply absorbed everything.
One thing stayed with me.
Magicians prepared for possibilities.
They constantly planned ahead.
For the best outcome.
For the worst outcome.
And for everything in between.
That made them dangerous.
A swordsman could react.
A magician could prepare.
I made a mental note to never underestimate one.
Not that I planned on hunting magicians.
But fate rarely cared about plans.
The next two days passed in relentless training.
Rathen focused on reducing the effect my death stare had on my body.
He repeatedly forced me into uncomfortable situations, trying to make me react less violently to danger.
Siena focused on something completely different.
Unpredictability.
Every spar became chaos.
She constantly used strange angles, unusual movements, and tactics I would never expect.
Whenever I thought I understood her pattern—
she changed it.
Whenever I thought I had a plan—
she ruined it.
Slowly, painfully—
I began learning.
Not how to fight better.
But how to adapt.
And that lesson was far more valuable.