Chapter 36 – Private Practice (Part 4)
Another two slipped by like water through open fingers. Zane's relentless training continued in silence, the only sounds echoing across the balcony being the sharp swish of his blade and the soft hiss of displaced air. Fiora, having stopped giving instructions a while ago, simply watched from a distance.
Zane had entered what could only be described as a trance—a state where his mind, body, and instincts moved in harmony, completely immersed in the rhythm of repetition and refinement. It was an unrelenting process, yet strangely graceful, like watching a flame grow steadily fiercer with every breath of wind.
And it was working.
At a pace that made even Fiora narrow her eyes.
'He's still not there yet... But at this rate...' she thought, eyes fixed on him. 'With how fast he's improving, it won't even take a week before he reaches a level that normally takes years. This is absurd.'
Even thinking it felt like a joke. That kind of progress was unheard of, even among the most talented knights in training. And yet, here Zane was—slowly but surely brushing up against the borders of elegance and mastery.
Fiora let out a faint breath, barely audible. "What kind of monster is this kid..." she murmured under her breath.
Everything about him was an enigma—from his striking red eyes to his ability to pick up skills like he'd been born for them. She recalled the records she'd looked over the night before: a poor, ordinary boy from nowhere. Mother dead. No other family. No known affiliations. A quiet, broken upbringing hidden beneath a mature shell.
That sorrow... the one lingering in his eyes—it made sense then.
'To grow this strong mentally, this fast... that kind of strength doesn't come without pain. Without hardship.' Her gaze softened just slightly. 'You've seen more than most ever will, haven't you?'
She crossed her arms and spoke aloud, though mostly to herself.
"You're stronger than you think, kid. Even without your talent... you have the kind of strength most never find. The kind that keeps going even when everything tries to break you."
Zane didn't hear any of it. His world was narrowed down to his breathing, the feeling of his muscles, the position of his feet, the swing of his blade. Sweat dripped from his face, soaked through his shirt, but he kept going.
Until—
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The sharp sound snapped him out of his rhythm.
Zane blinked, the fog lifting from his eyes as he turned toward Fiora. His chest rose and fell with labored breaths, and his face was drenched in sweat.
"That's enough, boy. You've been going at it for nearly three hours now," Fiora said, her voice crisp but not unkind. "You did a good job."
Zane looked down at his sword, dazed. Three hours? It didn't feel like it. He could hardly remember time passing.
"I... wasn't I supposed to train the entire day?"
Fiora smirked faintly. "Change of plans. You improved faster than I thought you would. Far faster. It'd be a waste to keep you stuck on the basics now. It's time to teach you something more advanced."
Zane's eyes lit up with interest. "What is it?"
"Watch closely." Without another word, she took the Core Blade from his hand. Standing beside him, her entire presence shifted in an instant. The casual, teasing Fiora vanished, replaced by someone razor-sharp—elegant, deadly, and focused.
Zane didn't even realize he'd held his breath.
Then, she moved.
No, disappeared.
When he blinked, she was no longer at his side. His eyes darted, only to find her a few meters away, sword cutting clean through the air with blinding speed. Her body followed in perfect motion—fluid, like water, or a gust of wind weaving through blades of grass. Every motion bled purpose, her strikes smooth and deliberate, as if she were dancing with invisible enemies.
Zane's jaw slackened. He couldn't look away.
She moved as though gravity didn't matter, as though the sword was simply an extension of herself, and she was performing a routine that she'd mastered over a lifetime. Afterimages followed her like shadows. It was beautiful—no, mesmerizing.
When she finally stopped, sword tucked neatly by her side, she looked over her shoulder.
"That," she said calmly, "Was the first step of a very special sword technique I've developed. I call it... the Dancing Rose."
Zane swallowed, still stunned. "The... Dancing Rose..." he echoed, eyes wide. 'It didn't feel like swordsmanship at all... I don't know how to describe it but it felt... Very smooth yet also hard to predict. I couldn't know what she would do next.'
"You're not going to master this anytime soon," Fiora said, her expression softening, "It took me years to do what you have just seen. So, for your sake, and for the sake of your time, I will teach you the very first part of it all."
"What's it called?"
"Flash Step."
Zane blinked. "Is that... what you just did? That disappearing thing?"
Fiora grinned. "Exactly. It's a fundamental move for any Knight to learn during their training. Simple in theory. Vital in practice. A quick burst of movement that lets you cross short distances instantly. Great for dodging, repositioning, or closing gaps. You'll be using it a lot."
"You call that simple?" Zane raised a brow. "You vanished."
"That's just your brain filling in the gaps, boy," she said with a laugh. "I didn't actually vanish. Your eyes just couldn't follow the movement. Flash Step is all about compressing energy into your toes and releasing it in a sharp burst to propel your body forward."
"That's it?"
"Exactly. Build the energy, condense it tightly—focus it all at the very tip of your toes. When it reaches its limit, let it erupt. That will generate the speed you need."
Zane picked up his blade again, eyes narrowing. "You make it sound easy."
"It's not. Not at first. It hurts like hell. If you can't control it, you'll sprain something... or worse. But I've noticed your energy is already much calmer than most beginners. That means you're subconsciously controlling it."
Zane frowned. "You can tell that just by looking?"
"I am a Knight, remember?" she smirked. "I've seen hundreds of beginners. Trust me, you're ahead of the curve. You must've practiced a bit in the past day or so. Now—give it a shot."
Zane took his stance, planting his feet shoulder-width apart. He closed his eyes, focusing. Slowly, he guided his Core Energy downward, letting it flow through his legs and pool near the soles of his feet.
'Concentrate it. All of it... toes only...'
The energy pulsed. Pressure built. His muscles trembled.
"More," Fiora said from the side. "It has to hurt before it works."
Zane gritted his teeth. Sweat rolled down his face as he pushed the energy tighter, denser—until it coated the tips of his toes entirely.
And then...
"I can't hold it!" he shouted.
"Keep your control over—!"
But it was too late.
The bubble burst.
A shockwave erupted across the balcony with a loud CRACK, like thunder. In an instant, Zane's body launched forward like a bullet shot from a gun, completely out of control.
"WOAHHH!" he screamed, eyes wide.
He tried to stop himself, but he was moving too fast. The wind howled past his ears as he hurtled forward—
And then... there was nothing beneath him.
Just air.
The balcony was behind him.
And gravity had finally caught up.
Zane was falling.
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