Later that evening, as I lay half-dead on my bed, I replayed the day's training in my head.
Every movement, every correction.
The implanted knowledge from the System had helped me understand the forms — but doing them was another story entirely.
Still, something inside me had shifted.
I was learning to move, to fight, to endure.
[Progress Update: Basic Swordsmanship Proficiency — 22%.]
[Knight Training Progress — 37%.]
I grinned faintly. "Not bad for someone who used to pull muscles typing too fast."
[Commentary: Progress is promising. However, Host's swordsmanship remains below standard for active combat.]
"Yeah, yeah. Rome wasn't built in a day. Neither is a six-pack."
[Error: 'Six-pack' not found in local terminology.]
I laughed quietly, staring at the moonlit ceiling. "Forget it, System."
The ache in my muscles was unbearable, but this time… it felt earned.
Every drop of sweat, every bruise, every sore limb — it was proof.
I wasn't the old Kael anymore.
And maybe, just maybe, I was starting to become someone worth following.
****
Later that night
The moon hung high over Duskmoor. The courtyard was silent except for the faint rustle of leaves and the soft scrape of wood on stone.
I exhaled slowly, tightening my grip on the training sword. The night air was cool against my skin, sweat dampening my shirt despite the chill.
[Swordsmanship Manual: Basic Forms I–III — Active Learning Mode Enabled.]
Blue holographic outlines shimmered faintly before me, illustrating each stance, each swing, each correction.
The Dominion System's "manual" wasn't just a book — it was a full guide, animated and interactive.
Every movement was broken down to precision: grip angle, foot placement, shoulder tension, breathing rhythm.
Honestly, it was better than any swordmaster could ever explain.
"Alright," I muttered, adjusting my stance. "Let's try it again."
The air whistled as I swung. Once, twice, three times.
The sword cut arcs through the night, my movements slowly syncing with the phantom guide.
Having the knowledge downloaded into my mind had made understanding easy — but doing it? That was another story.
My body couldn't keep up with what my brain already knew. My shoulders burned, wrists throbbed, legs trembled with every pivot.
Still, I kept going. Over and over.
One hour passed. Then two.
The world faded away until it was just me, the sword, and the rhythm of breathing.
"Again."
Swish.
"Again."
Thud.
By the time the first light of dawn crept over the walls, my arms felt like lead, and the training sword was slick with sweat.
I collapsed onto the ground, chest heaving.
Above me, the Dominion System chimed softly.
[Progress Update: Basic Swordsmanship — 61%.]
[Technique Execution Precision: Improved by 37%.]
"Sixty-one percent," I muttered, smiling faintly. "Not bad for a dead guy."
Two weeks slipped by like that.
Days were torture under Maya's command — endless drills, sparring sessions, bruises that painted my body in shades of blue and red.
Nights were mine. My secret hours.
While everyone slept, I'd sneak out into the courtyard or the garden, sword in hand, following the System's visual guides.
Every swing grew sharper. Every parry smoother.
And the more I practiced, the more I began to understand something fundamental — technique wasn't about strength.
It was rhythm. Flow. Precision.
The System's guidance was brutally clear, showing me every micro-error — my wrist rotation, my foot drag, my hesitation between breaths.
I fixed them one by one, slowly sculpting myself from the wreckage of my old habits.
And it showed.
During one of our morning sessions, Maya noticed it.
She had swung down at me like usual — a clean, fast strike aimed at my shoulder.
Instinct took over before I could think. I twisted my wrist, angled my sword just right — clang!
Her strike deflected cleanly.
She stepped back, blinking once. "You've been practicing."
I shrugged, trying not to grin. "Maybe a little."
Her gaze narrowed. "A little wouldn't let you block that. That was the form of a mid-level knight, Kael."
"I learn fast," I said.
She studied me for a moment longer before smirking. "Don't get cocky. You've got technique, but technique without Ki is just dance."
She wasn't wrong.
No matter how smooth my movements got, no matter how many perfect arcs I cut, there was still that wall — that invisible barrier separating ordinary men from true knights.
Maya was on the other side of that wall.
A True Advanced Knight — someone who could draw Ki into her limbs, strengthen every motion with raw energy.
Her blade could split wood where mine would chip. Her reflexes made mine look like slow motion.
Even with the System's help, I couldn't touch her yet.
But the gap was closing.
Every time we sparred, I lasted longer. Every blow I parried drew a flicker of surprise in her eyes.
And every night, as I pushed my body past exhaustion, I could feel something stirring inside me — a faint heat, deep within my chest, pulsing in rhythm with my heart.
It wasn't Ki yet. But it was close.
****
One night, as I sheathed my sword and looked up at the stars, the System's voice broke the silence.
[Notice: Host has reached the limit of physical refinement for current stage.]
[Next evolution requirement: Awaken Ki Core.]
[Sub-Mission Unlocked — "The First Spark."]
I stared at the glowing text, heartbeat quickening.
Ki Core… huh?
I grinned faintly, gripping my sword tighter.
"Looks like it's time to level up again."