Dera lifted his gaze, his voice calm but cold.
"I'll show you old man, then…"
The ground beneath him cracked as his Aura intensified, his presence almost suffocating.
"…what I'm made of."
The wooden doll closed in, its blade whistling through the air toward him.
Dera exhaled sharply and focused. His wooden sword pulsed as he enveloped it in a dark purple Enhanced Aura. At the same time, he channeled Aura into his feet, reinforcing his movements.
And then—
VHOOM!
Dera vanished.
In the blink of an eye, he reappeared behind the doll, his wooden sword cutting through the air with lethal precision.
SHLAAK!
The wooden doll froze for a moment, a deep, jagged line splitting straight down its center.
Then—
CLANK!
—it collapsed into two halves, the severed pieces thudding onto the ground.
A tense silence followed.
Dera exhaled sharply, his shoulders rising and falling as the last remnants of his purple Aura faded into nothingness. His eyes, which had burned with an ethereal glow, gradually returned to their usual shade.
The old man stared, his expression unreadable.
'What the hell was that Aura?' he thought, his fists unconsciously tightening. 'I've never seen anything like it before.'
Finally, the old man sighed, masking his thoughts with a neutral expression.
"You did well," he admitted gruffly. "That was the strength of a one-finned Venom."
Dera wiped the sweat off his forehead, but before he could feel any sense of accomplishment, the old man continued.
"But if this had been a real fight, you would've already died three times," the old man said bluntly.
Dera stiffened.
"Each hit you took would have been fatal," he continued, his sharp gaze locking onto Dera's.
"You need to stop spacing out and focus. Your instincts are good, but hesitation will get you killed."
Dera clenched his jaw. He knew the old man was right, but before he could respond—
"Oi!"
A loud, irritated voice cut through the tension.
Eva stormed towards them, balancing a tray of food in her hands, her face set in a deep frown.
"Grampa! Didn't I tell you he needs to eat first?!" she scolded, glaring daggers at the old man.
Without waiting for a response, she stomped over, set the tray down with a huff, and marched straight to Dera's side, checking him over.
Dera blinked.
Had she always been this bossy?
"And you!"
Eva's furious voice rang out as she grabbed Dera by the ear and twisted.
"Agh! Ow, ow, ow!" Dera yelped, flailing helplessly.
"Didn't I tell you to stay out of training? What if you passed out again?!" she scolded, shaking him like a rag doll.
"Alright, alright, I got it!" he cried, convinced she was about to rip his ear off.
The old man sighed, shaking his head. 'What a noisy pair…'
---Five Months Later
Just like that, five grueling months passed in a blur.
In that time, Dera had come dangerously close to death more times than he cared to count.
The first three months were dedicated entirely to Aura training and building stamina. Every morning, he strapped a massive boulder to his back and ran up and down the mountain—ten times. His legs burned, his lungs screamed but stopping wasn't an option.
Afternoons were spent honing his Aura. Sitting beneath a roaring waterfall, he had to expand his Aura and form a barrier around himself, shielding his body from the crashing force of the water. If he wavered for even a second and the water so much as brushed him—
BOOM!
A devastating punch from the old man would send him flying.
Nights were dedicated to swordsmanship—specifically, Lightning Swordplay. Under the old man's strict guidance, Dera trained to channel his Aura through his blade, His movements had to be swift, precise—like lightning itself.
The final two months were even worse.
He battled three wooden dolls each infused with Enhanced Aura.—each faster and stronger than before. They cut him, broke his ribs, and left bruises all over his body. But every time he lay battered and bleeding, his Venomic Recovery kicked in, stitching his wounds back together within seven days.
The old man was constantly baffled by Dera's rapid healing. He never questioned it aloud, but Dera could tell he was curious. Instead of pressing for answers, the old man eventually chose to feign ignorance.
On top of all this, Dera still had to fulfill his system's daily quests to avoid penalties. The constant push between training and survival made time feel like a never-ending battle.
And yet, despite all the suffering, Dera adapted
In those five months, he had completely mastered Enhancer and Emitter Aura. His body had grown accustomed to wielding them in combat. But there was still one final step left—
Today, he was going to change his Aura quality into lightning.
Dera stood outside in the vast training field, his eyes turned toward the overcast sky. Dark clouds loomed above, heavy with the promise of rain.
His body had changed drastically.
His frame was more muscular, his height slightly taller. His once-short hair had grown long, cascading down to his waist. And though his skin bore countless injuries from training, Venomic Recovery ensured not a single scar remained.
He flexed his fingers, feeling the raw power coursing through his veins.
'Today is the day.'
He took a deep breath, eyes burning with determination.
"Ahem."
The old man cleared his throat as he stepped out of the manor, his sharp gaze landing on Dera.
"Are you done with your exercises?" he asked.
"Yes, Master," Dera replied, straightening his posture.
"Good. Then it's time." The old man's expression turned serious.
"I'll ask this only once. You know that you can only change the quality of your Aura once—and once it's changed, it's permanent."
His piercing eyes locked onto Dera's, making sure he fully understood the weight of his decision.
"Are you certain you want Lightning Aura Techniques to be your swordsmanship path?"
Dera had thought about this before, but hesitation was a luxury he couldn't afford. He was running out of time. He needed strength—fast—if he was going to save his brother.
"I'm sure, Master," Dera said firmly.
The old man exhaled, then smirked.
"Good. Because I wasn't planning to take no for an answer."
Dera's eye twitched.
'Damn old geezer.'
"Now, there are two ways to change the quality of your Aura," the old man continued.
"The Easy way and the Hard way."
Dera remained silent, listening.
"The Easy way will take five months to master completely. But even then, the Lightning Technique won't be as strong compared to the hard way." The old man paused, his gaze sharpening.
"The Hard way, however, will take only two months—but the process will be… brutal."
A heavy silence hung between them.
Dera frowned. The old man was acting strangely too serious, almost as if he was testing him.
But in truth, there was nothing to think about. He had already endured five months of hellish training. Why would he suddenly start looking for shortcuts now? The easy way wasn't even an option—it would take longer, and the end result wouldn't even be as strong.
He clenched his fists.
"I choose the Hard way."
The old man's smirk widened.
"Good choice."
The old man led Dera up the mountain, to its highest peak. The air was thin, the wind howling like whispers of forgotten spirits.
At the summit stood an ancient temple, but it was unlike anything he had ever seen. It had no roof, leaving the open sky above to stretch endlessly.
Inside the temple, Towering statues—seven in total—stood in a perfect circle, their stone faces etched with expressions of power and wisdom.
But what caught Dera's attention the most was the Golden Throne sat upon an intricate platform right in the center of them all.
It was unlike anything he had ever seen. Covered in ancient markings and cryptic symbols, it radiated an otherworldly presence, as if it had been carved for something far beyond human understanding.
"What is this place?" Dera asked, his voice hushed with awe. His eyes trailed over the strange designs, admiring the masterful craftsmanship of whoever had built this temple.
"The Temple of the Thunder God," the old man replied, his tone grim.
Dera turned to him, then back to the temple. His curiosity burned even hotter now.
"Come," the old man beckoned. "You're not here for sightseeing. Sit on the throne."
Dera's steps faltered.
"Me?" His brows furrowed. "Isn't this meant for the gods or something? Am I even allowed to sit there?"
The old man ignored the question and walked toward the throne without pause.
"Sit."
There was something in his voice—something unshakable, something absolute. Even Dera, who never backed down from a challenge, felt a strange unease crawl up his spine.
Still, he obeyed.
Without another word, he lowered himself onto the golden throne.
The moment he did—
CLANK!
Dera flinched as golden chains shot out, wrapping around his wrists and ankles, binding him tightly to the throne.
"Wait, what the hell is this old man—I mean, Master?" Dera's eyes widened as the chains wrapped around his wrists and ankles, locking him in place.
The metal burned against his skin—not with heat, but with an invisible pressure that made his muscles tense instinctively.
The old man remained unfazed.
"Now, I want you to channel all your Aura throughout your body. Do it now." His voice was cold. Deadly serious.
"And no matter what happens—do not lose focus. Do not let your Aura subside."
Dera's brows furrowed.
"But… what happens if my Aura wears off?" Dera's tone serious.
The old man's eyes darkened.
"You'll die."
Dera's breath hitched.
"And I don't mean poetically, rhetorically, or in any other fancy way." The old man's tone was as sharp as a blade.
"I mean death. Straight up."
A cold shiver ran down Dera's spine—colder than anything he had ever felt, even from Shadow.
"Wait—old man—!"
Before he could finish, he glanced around—
The old man was gone.
"...What...the...hell?"
Dera's pulse spiked. The once still air around him began to hum, vibrating like an unseen force was waking up.
Something isn't right.
And then—
{Oi! What the hell are you doing?! Get the hell out of there—NOW!}
Shadow's voice roared inside his head, something he had never done before.
"Am Trying!" Dera struggled against the chains, but the more he pulled, the tighter they became.
He gritted his teeth.
'Damn it—what the hell is going on?!'