Ren continued to train, despite the sweat soaking through his tunic, the fabric clinging to his back like it had been pressed into his skin by the wind. But he didn't stop.
Breathing steady. Footwork firm.
Every motion, from the stance, the tilt of his wrist, to the depth of his center of gravity, was slowly becoming instinctual. Each step, each heel pressing down onto the wooden floor, felt steadier than before, solid like a tree root gripping the Baobab's massive trunk.
The wind howled past like the cry of monsters deep in the forest. At this incredible height, where the ground blurred into a distant smear far below, Ren's sword quivered slightly in the wind, but he stood his ground.
His next swing sliced the air, Windslash cutting through the gale.
The wind couldn't resist the blade. On the contrary, it made the steel sharper.
A strange sensation crept into his fingertips. The blade no longer resisted his movement, but flowed with it. One rhythm. One current. One arc.
Each slash felt smoother, as if the sword and Ren were beginning to synchronize.
And then...
A soft ping echoed through the system interface.
[Weapon Mastery: Sword - Novice (100/1000)]
A second notification followed, lines of glowing blue text sliding across Ren's vision like streaks of light against the twilight forest haze.
[New Sword Skill Unlocked][Phantom Arc]
Description: When used immediately after a successful dodge or block, unleashes a lightning-fast counterstrike.Effect: Deals 1.5x damage if activated at the right moment.Cooldown: 20 seconds.
Ren narrowed his eyes.
"Counter, huh...?"
He mentally replayed the imagined battles during his training, each shift of his body, each moment of evasion that had kept him alive.
This skill seemed tailor-made not for brute strength, but for those who waited for the right moment.
He didn't smile, but a rare glint of interest shone in his eyes.
Phantom Arc.
Ren silently raised a hand to the interface. With a light swipe, click, the newly unlocked skill appeared in the skill selection panel.
He quickly replaced a rarely used ability in the current skill slot. On the display, Phantom Arc lit up like a thread of delicate data, glowing a pale, cold blue.
"All right…"
When he first began, Ren had only three active skill slots. Changing skills mid-battle required opening the menu, selecting a new ability, and waiting a full three seconds before the new one could be used, a dangerously long time in real combat.
He'd once considered "switching mid-fight," but that required the precision of a surgeon, and nerves of steel while under constant pressure from enemies.
But now things were different.
Since reaching Level 10, the system had unlocked five simultaneous active skill slots, a game-changing update.
Ren felt a sense of relief. Like carrying an extra blade hidden in his sleeve.
He spent a few minutes rearranging the skill order, swiping across the interface like a conductor tuning each key before a performance. Each ability was a beat, a link in the chain of combat Ren was learning to master.
[Phantom Arc] was set to the third slot, right after [Stap], his usual opener, and before [Vertical Arc], his signature finisher when closing in.
The remaining two slots were reserved for [Stealth] and [Tracking], survival essentials in the foggy forest where enemies didn't always appear in plain sight.
"Perfect," he murmured, more to himself than anyone.
The wind swept through his messy hair. The canopy swayed gently, like ripples in a dream not yet dissolved.
Ren lightly stroked the spine of his sword, feeling the smooth steel of Windslash resting in its sheath, cold, solid, and always ready.
[Stap]Description: A lightning-quick thrust aimed straight at the enemy.Effect: 1.3x damage.Cooldown: 7 seconds.
This had always been Ren's go-to opener. He'd unlocked it in his earliest days, back on Floor 1, with clumsy and hesitant stabs. Back then, even executing the move properly was a struggle.
Now, Stap was nearly reflex. Cast time and cooldown had been shortened to the minimum thanks to his high AGI and honed battle instincts.
Much like Asuna's Linear, a simple thrust that becomes a deadly weapon in the hands of someone fast enough.
Next up... [Vertical Arc]
Description: A V-shaped sword slash that locks down the enemy's movement.Effect: 1.7x damage.Cooldown: 25 seconds.
Ren had seen Kirito use it. Back on Floor 1. A downward diagonal strike, the blade sweeping down like the axe of death... Light flashing across the sword's edge, followed by a boss collapsing in a burst of red pixels, like exploding fireworks.
Ren had never forgotten that moment. And now... he owned it, too.
Besides these core skills, Ren kept a trump card, one he still wasn't sure whether to call a skill or a system glitch.
[Flowing Light Slash]Description: As fluid as a stream, as fierce as a waterfall in a thunderstorm.Effect: First hit deals 1.2x damage, increasing with each successive strike.Cooldown: 30 minutes.
No cap on the number of strikes. Or maybe… the system never had time to set one. Or... maybe Ren simply hadn't reached the end yet.
First slash..x1.2.
Second...x1.4.
Third..x1.8.
The speed ramped up with each move, like his body was tearing itself apart to keep up.
By the fourth hit... Ren barely dared to remember. A blow soaked in pure killing intent, slicing through air like tearing open water. The damage spiked to x2.6, a number that defied all logic.
But the price was losing control over his entire body.
This skill wasn't merely a combo of slashes. It was a dance upon the edge of a blade.
A challenge to the nerves, the muscles, and the willpower, just one mistake, and the user would be devoured by the technique itself.
Ren still hadn't mastered the fourth slash. He wasn't fast enough. Not yet stable enough.
Every skill now wasn't just a strike.
It was a breath. A choice.
An answer to the killing intent creeping through every corner of this forest.
The wind above stirred again.
The cold late-afternoon breeze swept through his hair, tossing up strands matted with sweat across Ren's forehead. He shivered slightly, not from the chill, but from the strange contrast between the cool air and the heat still lingering in every muscle fiber.
Partly because the training ground lay atop a massive Baobab tree, where the altitude made the wind sharp as razors, and partly... because sweat had already soaked into the thin tunic clinging to his body.
The sky in the distance began to shift in color. Crimson clouds drifted quietly across, like diluted blood dissolving into water.
Ren looked up. When had it grown dark?
He wasn't sure. He only knew he'd swung his sword until his fingers stung, and his heartbeat had aligned with the rhythm of his footwork.
A whole day had passed. No bell had rung. Only time, quietly draining away bit by bit.
Ren slowly slid Windslash back into its sheath. The worn leather rasped softly against the hilt, a quiet farewell from the blade after a long dance.
He turned, walking toward the large staircase of hard wood spiraling around the tree trunk. Each step echoed faintly beneath his feet, one after another.
Other players were also leaving the training grounds, their postures weary, yet peaceful.
Darkness crept in slowly, and the magical lanterns hanging from the twisted branches began to light up.
Not blinding. Just like tiny stars, scattered across the air. Suspended between the forest canopy,
a second sky, for those who had chosen to remain.
Ren didn't return to his room right away.
Instead, he turned down a stone path winding along the tree, where a small wooden bathhouse sat quietly behind the rustling broad leaves.
It was a public bathhouse, built like a roadside rest station for adventurers. And with a bit more Cor, one could rent a private room for a quiet soak.
Ren stepped through the wooden door, the wind chime above ringing softly with a keng.
Warm mist rolled out from within, carrying with it the faint scent of herbs. Mint. A hint of juniper. Maybe dried orange peel too.
He handed his card to the NPC at the counter, silently selecting a private room. 120 Cor for 30 minutes.
The door closed behind him.
The bath was small but clean. A gray stone tub was filled with steaming water, white mist rising in thick swirls. He removed his tunic, stored his sword and armor, and slowly stepped in.
Splash.
The water met his skin, heat spreading deep into his bones. Ren let out a soft breath, a sigh he hadn't realized he'd been holding in his chest all this time. Every joint seemed to melt into the water, each muscle released from the weight of the day.
He leaned back, resting his head on the rim of the stone tub. Eyes closed. Wet hair plastered to his forehead. Around him, only the gentle sounds of trickling water and the breeze brushing against the wooden walls remained.
After soaking long enough to forget the chill and the ache, Ren stood, dried off, changed into another thin tunic, and stored his leather armor and cloak back into inventory.
Steam still clung to his hair, beads of water trickling down his neck.
He stepped out of the bathhouse.
The cool early-evening breeze brushed past him, causing Ren to shiver, not from the cold, but from the quiet hunger rising slowly from within.
That feeling was familiar. As if the body, now rested, had started demanding its reward.
Ren walked along the curved hallway spiraling around the Baobab, where the magical lights had already lit up, glowing in soft orange hues like wandering fireflies.
On the lower level, near the edge of a large branch, was a small eatery, not flashy, but always filled with the scent of grilled meat and toasted bread. He remembered passing by that morning and catching a whiff of simmering stew in the air.
The wooden door swung open, the bell chiming lightly.
Inside was an oddly cozy space: rough wooden tables, a few benches cushioned with cloth, and potted plants suspended by rope. Soft lighting. The air smelled of black pepper, scallion oil, and roasted orange peel.
Ren picked a seat near the window, looking out over the distant forest. When the NPC waitress came, he simply said:
"Just a stew, some bread… and grilled vegetables, if you have any."
It didn't take long for the food to arrive.
A simple yet complete wooden tray: a steaming bowl of stew with chunks of tender meat and softened vegetables, a crisp loaf of bread with wild honey, and a small plate of slightly charred grilled veggies.
The aroma made Ren's stomach twist.
He said nothing. Just picked up the spoon and began eating.
The meat was tender, the broth rich, just salty enough to wash away exhaustion, just sweet enough to soothe his tongue.
Beneath the enormous tree canopy, the forest had fallen completely into darkness. Mist veiled the winding paths Ren had once walked, and above, only a few faint stars pierced through the thick clouds.
In that stillness, Zumfut glowed quietly, magical lights strung across branches like falling stars, turning the settlement into a hanging lighthouse adrift in the deep ocean of night.
Ren sat on the porch, eating quietly. Each bite lifted slowly, like a ritual, not rushed, not distracted.
He didn't speak, nor think much.
He simply felt the balance of salt and sweetness on his tongue, the warmth sliding down his throat, and the breeze whispering past the great roots below.
The reward of a long day. Full of sweat. Full of blood. And full of silence.
He closed his eyes for a moment. Just this meal, in this gentle light and fleeting peace...That was enough.