Extra Pages: The Author's Odyssey
Chapter 259: Sixth Day

"Swing at me," Yato commanded, his tone leaving no room for hesitation.

Still confused, I complied with his instructions.

Firmly gripping my sword, I raised it high before bringing it down in a powerful swing towards Yato.

Swish—!!

But with ease, Yato sidestepped, evading my attack effortlessly.

Kwish—!!

Before I could even process what had occurred, I felt the cold edge of the blade pressed against my neck.

My gaze followed the blade's path, tracing it back to the shaft and the hands that held it.

It was Yato.

"Your movements are too telegraphed. A skilled opponent would read them easily and counter. You must learn to flow seamlessly from one strike to the next without unnecessary pauses," Yato explained, withdrawing the blade and resuming his stance.

I frowned, realizing the truth in his words. My swings lacked the fluidity and grace that Yato effortlessly displayed.

"Watch closely."

Yato began demonstrating a series of sword swings, each motion blending into the next with a rhythmic precision. It was a dance of steel, a symphony of strikes that seemed to defy the limitations of mere mortal movements.

"Precision, speed, and adaptability. That's what you need to focus on. Let your body move as an extension of your will," Yato instructed.

I nodded, absorbing his guidance, and attempted to emulate the seamless transitions he demonstrated. Swinging my sword again, I aimed for a more fluid motion, each strike leading naturally to the next.

Swish, Swish, Swish—!

Despite my efforts, the improvement was incremental. Yato observed silently, his discerning eyes following every move.

"You're getting there, Lucas. But it requires more practice. Swordsmanship is an art, not just brute strength. Let the blade be an extension of your being," Yato advised.

I continued practising, the snowy field echoing with the sound of clashing blades. Each swing brought me closer to the elusive fluidity Yato embodied.

After a prolonged session, Yato signalled for a break. "Your progress is commendable, but remember, mastering the sword requires patience and dedication."

As I caught my breath, I couldn't shake off the determination to refine my swordsmanship.

***

The sixth day of training trip...

'Dammit'

I can't go on like this. In the last two Yato worked to my core, first I had to swing my sword like 20,000 times each 10,000 a day.

I bearly managed to do that and after that, we would spar with each other hand to hand so my sense could be improved and then I refined my sportsmanship, Like how to hold a sword. How to block it and how to slash the sword.

It was very basic training but for me, it was very hard because I hadn't done anything like that before maybe old Lucas knew every basic of swordsmanship but I wasn't old Lucas.

Anyway, after doing all of that I only receive like 4 hours of sleep and one cup of noodles to eat.

I'm very tired, Yato sure is very strict when it comes to training.

Currently, we are again doing training out in snowy field mountains.

I don't have the strength to do so but I was doing it anyway.

Laying down on the cold floor panting, I turned my head to the right where Yato's figure could be seen holding onto a large metal staff. Seeing this, I pleaded.

"Huff…huff…huff…Master, please let me rest!"

Hearing my plea, Yato ignored me and proceeded to lightly sway the metal staff on his shoulder as he shook his head and said.

"Nope, not now. I'll give you rest for a few minutes after this session is over."

" Ghhh…damn it!"

Helpless, I could only lift my tired body up and once again prepared myself to be subjected to Yato's merciless beating.

-Clank!

"khh…"

As soon as I stood up, without giving me a chance to recover, Yato appeared before me and horizontally swung the staff in his hand. As he swung his staff, hurtling in my direction's metal body split the air apart.

"huup!"

Seeing the staff move, without hesitation, I ducked my body down and avoided it within a hairbreadth.

"Not bad but not good enough"

Seeing me dodge his attack, a faint smile appeared on Yato's lips as he suddenly halted his movement mid-swing and swung the staff downwards. Seeing this, I helplessly mumbled.

"…that's cheating"

-Bang!

The last thing I heard was the sound of the staff splitting the air before a tremendous force hit my back causing me to fall face-first on the snowy ground.

-Dank!

"Gaaaahhh!"

Hitting the ground, a painful groan escaped from my mouth as I clenched my fists and tried my best to withhold the pain.

…it hurt like hell.

Lying face-first in the snow, every muscle in my body protested against the relentless training. I felt the cold seeping through my clothes, contrasting with the burning pain from the impact of Yato's staff.

"You must learn to adapt, Lucas. Battles are unpredictable, and you won't always have the luxury of facing straightforward attacks," Yato's voice echoed his words a reminder of the harsh reality of combat.

With a deep breath, I pushed myself up, determined to continue. Yato's relentless training methods were gruelling, but they were shaping me into a swordsman far beyond what I once was.

"Enough for now," Yato declared, signalling a temporary respite. I gratefully slumped onto the snowy ground, feeling the cold seep into my bones.

"Master, why such intense training?" I questioned, curiosity laced with exhaustion.

Yato sat down beside me, his gaze fixed on the snowy expanse. "In the world you've entered, strength is the currency of survival. The Infernal Demonic Arts demand not only skill but a body and mind honed to perfection. This training prepares you for the challenges ahead."

I nodded, absorbing the gravity of his words. The stakes were high, and my journey was just beginning. Yato continued, "Rest now, but remember, the path to mastery is a continuous climb. There's always a higher peak to reach."

As the wind whispered through the mountains, carrying the chill of the snowy landscape, I closed my eyes, acknowledging the truth in Yato's teachings. The snowy field became a silent witness to the transformation, as the swordsman within me embraced the relentless pursuit of perfection.