Elias sat with his head in his hands, eyes vacant, as his sister droned on about wanting to become an adventurer. Their visit to the dungeon had lit a fire in her, and now she wouldn’t shut up about it.
If this went on much longer, he was going to snap. So when their dad asked to speak with him in private before training started, Elias jumped at the chance.
Anything to escape Isabela’s voice.
“Eli, I wanted to talk to you about our fighting style, and why I asked you not to show it off in public yesterday,” Peter said once they were alone. “Spirit Dancing is a very powerful technique—far more powerful than you seem to realize.”
His gaze locked onto Elias’ and didn’t waver, eyes searching. His face was set—grave.
“I never said I didn’t think it was powerful,” Elias replied, a frown forming across his face.
“I know, son,” Peter said patiently. “But you still don’t understand just how incredible it really is, even compared to other famous fighting styles. More importantly, you don’t understand how people might react if they recognize it. And there are people who would recognize it.”
“I can’t tell you why being identified as a practitioner would be a problem—not yet. I really wish I could, Eli, but I can’t. You’ll just have to trust me on this.” His voice grew solemn. “Being recognized as a Spirit Dancer right now would be a really, really bad thing.”
Elias had only rarely seen his father look this serious. The easy smile that always seemed glued to Peter’s face was nowhere to be seen.
He’d have to be crazy not to take his words to heart.
Either way, he wouldn’t be able to use the fighting style properly in public without tapping into a Tier 1 or Tier 2 mana source. Even drawing on the ambient mana from Skills, like he’d done against Marco, only gave him a faint glimpse into the rhythm of different mana types. It wasn’t nearly enough to fully express the style.
“All right,” Elias said, trying to match his father’s serious expression. “I won’t show it to anyone else.”
Peter held his gaze for several long seconds, weighing the sincerity behind the words. Elias stared back, refusing to look away.
Finally, Peter nodded—and broke into a wide grin, seemingly satisfied.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.
“Thank you, Eli,” Peter said. “I can’t tell you everything right now, but I can tell you this: the true worth of Spirit Dancing will only become clear once you’ve mastered it. And I mean fully mastered it, which won’t be possible until after you’ve obtained your Skills. By then, I hope you’ll understand the need for all this secrecy.”
Then Peter smirked. “But trust me, it’ll be worth it. This is, without a doubt, the best fighting style there is. And I’m not exaggerating. You know those ‘professional fighters’ you see on the entertainment system—the ones hailed as the best in the world?”
He chuckled darkly. “They’d probably sell their soul to learn this style.”
Elias nodded noncommittally.
He’d always believed Spirit Dancing was an incredible fighting style—but superior to every other style out there? He doubted it.
He’d seen countless incredible fighting styles showcased in global competitions on the entertainment system. In his most ambitious daydreams, he’d imagined Spirit Dancing standing on par with some of those top-tier styles. But better than all of them?
That was ridiculous.
Elias' training with his mom began soon after his talk with his dad. This time, it was slightly different, since he’d leveled his Agility instead of Vitality or Strength, but it was definitely not easier.
After a grueling full-body weight training session, Vivian had him run a series of one-hundred-meter sprints at maximum speed. Unlike his previous workouts, which focused on covering as much distance as possible in an hour, this variation was designed to target all three of his physical attributes at once.
At first, Elias assumed the session would at least be shorter than the last—more intense, sure, but over quickly. After all, it was just short bursts of power rather than sustained effort.
He was wrong.
Whenever he started to get too tired, Vivian made him take a brief break before continuing, ensuring he could push his body to its absolute limit with every single sprint. By the end of the day, he’d completed nearly a hundred sprints over several grueling hours, and had to be carried home until the recovery potion kicked in.
To his frustration, he’d even started collapsing before the finish line during the last few sprints, and Vivian had flatly refused to count those.
Not content to merely watch him train like she sometimes did, Isabela had started copying his exercises this time. It seemed she’d decided that if their parents weren’t going to start training her foundation yet, she’d take matters into her own hands.
Of course, she called it a day after her tenth sprint, just as she was starting to really feel tired. Still, she was clearly proud of herself. She strutted back into the house with her chest puffed out and chin held high.
Elias exchanged a knowing look with his mom, and they both chuckled.
He didn’t want to belittle Isabela’s efforts, but she hadn’t put in nearly enough work for either him or Vivian to consider it a real training session. There just hadn’t been enough suffering for that.
Still, judging by the thoughtful look on his mom’s face, Elias suspected Isabela would be getting her wish soon enough.