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Chapter 6 - The hellish training continued

Amon was back in his world and answered every question Thalos had. They were questions like, "Did you really learn the skill?" and "Why do you know what to do even if I didn't teach you?"

"Yes, I did learn the skill, and it's easy to learn I just had to do what the guardian told me to do," Amon replied confidently.

"If you're such a genius, why don't we make the training a little harder? Prepare yourself for a pain beyond your imagination," Thalos sneered, his smile resembling that of a predator who had found its prey. Amon felt a mixture of fear and curiosity, unsure of what was about to happen.

"First, you will learn to fight with weapons. I will teach you the basics. Secondly, you will gain real fighting experience," Thalos explained, using his thumb for the first point and his index finger for the second. His creepy smile remained unchanged, intensifying Amon's unease. Thalos considered countless training methods in his mind, each one more brutal than the last.

"Choose a weapon," Thalos commanded.

A variety of weapons appeared in front of Amon: axes, swords of Eastern and Western design, daggers, chains, bows—every type of weapon imaginable.

Despite the many options, Amon's decision was clear. He walked towards a broadsword, a monk's staff, and a dagger. Thalos's smile grew wider, brimming with sadistic pleasure.

"HEAHAHAHAHAHA!" Thalos burst into maniacal laughter, amused by Amon's choice to wield three different weapons. It made sense, though. Each weapon had its weaknesses, and to eliminate those weaknesses, one had to excel with that particular weapon. But Amon's training was going beyond that; he was learning to use various weapons in quick succession. Thalos intended to teach Amon how to master every type of weapon, both now and in the future.

"Get ready, boy!" Thalos bellowed, his voice only slightly louder than usual.

----

Two months later...

Amon had been training under Thalos for four months now. In the past two months, he had learned to use qi, opened the gate, and explored various paths. He had become quite skilled with the broadsword, daggers, and the monk's staff. These two months were filled with intense training, driven by Amon himself and his master, Thalos. Thalos pushed Amon through grueling sessions, causing him to lose limbs multiple times. Thalos always healed him, but the pain was still unbearable. Amon lost limbs during their training by facing low-level monsters captured by Thalos. Sometimes he emerged unscathed, but other times he suffered injuries, resulting in the loss of his limbs.

And now, he was once again facing a monster—a High Wolf. It was an E-Rank monster, the second weakest rank a monster could have. The High Wolf had grey fur, blood-red eyes, and was slightly larger than an average wolf. The most powerful monsters were known as mana beasts, creatures composed entirely of pure mana. They were intelligent beings, each with its own personality. As long as humans didn't provoke them, mana beasts would leave them alone. However, if someone angered a mana beast, there would be no help forthcoming. It was simply too dangerous, and countless lives would be lost. If a mana beast wanted to kill a human, it would most likely succeed simply because no one would offer him any help.

This was the harsh reality—people claimed to help others, but when their own lives were at stake, they would abandon them to the monsters, as long as they themselves survived.

Because of that the worst kind of monster one could face was an S+-Rank monster. That was far more realistic than that someone would have to face a mana beast.

The monster let out a loud howl, but Amon remained unfazed. He raised his sword high above his head, creating a gap between his arms. The wolf charged at full speed, but Amon stood his ground. 'Path of light: Holy sword,' With a swift swing, his sword, enveloped in a white energy, cleaved through the wolf's head. The brain spilled out, and Amon turned to face Thalos, who sat on an ice throne.

"Can't you give me stronger enemies? Two weeks ago, I lost my arm to one of them. But those times are over. Give me a real challenge," Amon demanded. Thalos rested his head on his hand, realizing that Amon was right. He found amusement in a clever idea.

"From today onwards, you will fight against me. Of course, I will hold back to avoid killing you," Thalos said, serious in his intent. He wanted to face Amon in combat, knowing that Amon was not yet strong enough to defeat him. However, Thalos believed this would be the fastest way for Amon to learn.

"You can use any weapon or skill against me, but remember, if you break a weapon, I'll break your bones. Got it?" Thalos wore a gentle smile as he uttered the last part. It was clear he meant it, and Amon knew his master never made jokes when it came to matters like this. Suddenly, Thalos launched an attack.

For several months, they fought like this—seven months, to be precise. During each fight, weapons collided with Thalos's skin. Thalos broke Amon's arms and legs or ripped them off entirely. The training was horrendous. Once, Thalos even tore Amon's gut open. Thalos always healed Amon's injuries immediately, but the pain persisted. Amon screamed multiple times during these fights, but the sensation was not as excruciating as when his father chomped off his arm on the day he first encountered Thalos. Amon understood that he had to endure this pain, for there were countless trials awaiting him out there, ready to inflict the same torment.

"This will be our final fight, boy. Make it a good one. I'll remember it," Thalos declared. Amon was determined to land a single blow on Thalos. He wanted to experience it, to feel it with all his senses.

'Path of Illusion: Mist Field,' Amon thought to himself, aware that speaking aloud his skill's name could reveal his intentions. Especially when it involved illusions, his opponent might anticipate his next move. But he needed to say the skill's name to visualize it clearly and determine the type of qi required. The gate behind his back, suspended in the air just like Thalos, had to be connected to the path he intended to take.

A dense fog materialized, and Thalos threw a punch, dispersing the mist. Yet, it was all part of Amon's plan. The fog was an illusion, designed to conceal his manipulation of the broadsword. With a swift motion, Amon plunged the sword into Thalos's stomach.

"Come on!" Amon shouted firmly, hoping to land a hit on Thalos, even if it was a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence.

Thalos knew what was coming, and he could have dodged it, but he didn't. He wasn't sure why.

SPLASH

The broadsword expanded back to its original size, piercing through Thalos's body.

"YEHHHHH!" Amon exclaimed, jubilant that he had finally managed to land a blow on Thalos. Of course

Amon wouldn't die from something like this, but he was still elated by his accomplishment.

"Good boy," Thalos applauded, clapping his hands to congratulate Amon. He had allowed it to happen, considering it a successful tactic. Most beings would have perished from an attack like that. Thalos decided to count it as a hit.

"You're finally ready to receive your tattoos," Thalos declared, sensing Amon's excitement. It had been one of Amon's goals to achieve this.

"Sit down, you know what to do," Thalos instructed. Every time Amon evolved, he had to sit and meditate, and this time was no different.

"It will be extremely painful—more painful than anything you've experienced before. But endure it. The less you scream, the stronger you'll become. So, refrain from screaming," Thalos warned. Amon finally understood why Thalos had subjected him to such brutal training, causing him so much pain. It was all in preparation for this very moment.

Thalos gathered dark energy in his hand, darker than the deepest black. He placed his hand on Amon's back, causing Amon to feel as if his skin was being burned. The stench of burnt flesh permeated the air. Thalos was right; it was the most excruciating pain Amon had ever felt, surpassing even the agony of having his gut pulled out. He wanted to scream, but he remembered a pain far worse—the pain he had carried within him since he could remember. The memories of people cursing him, his father chomping off his arm, the attempts to burn him alive and drown him by a group of people.