"Do you want to take a break...?" Kazuha asked kindly, watching Elliot drenched in sweat.
"I can... do two more sets..." Elliot replied hoarsely, his body trembling.
"I meant your sweat is mixing with the rain and starting to pool over to my side."
At Kazuha's words, Elliot glanced at the water around him, then stood up.
"Then I'll go outside and do two more sets." He wiped the sweat from his face and gave a faint smile.
"Uh... I'm not trying to drive you away. I just don't get why you're pushing yourself so hard. Is this part of your wish?" Kazuha asked.
...
Elliot was silent for a moment, then said, "No matter how strong it makes you, relying on something external can never compare to strength gained through your own training. If others can give it to you, they can take it away just as easily."
Who would've thought a tea set could cost him every skill he had?
But he didn't regret it. At least he'd come to understand the truth—and it wasn't too late.
The system could grant things—and take them back. That wasn't its fault. He'd simply been too reliant on it, and that was on him.
No matter. There was still time.
"Yeah... you're not wrong," Kazuha said. "A Vision represents the will of mortals to keep moving forward. But for us samurai, our pride has always come from the blades we carry."
"If you want to get stronger, I could teach you swordsmanship," Kazuha offered with confidence.
"I know a bit already. We can spar later."
Even though the Demonbane Sword had been taken back, he'd retained part of his master-level sword skills.
A lot of that came from those two sleepless days and nights fighting monsters in the forest to get Eula a bone whistle.
Though he'd ended up battered and bruised, the continuous battle had engraved the sword techniques into his very bones.
It was like learning how to swim—if someone erased your memory of swimming and tossed you into the sea, you'd still manage to swim.
That's muscle memory.
"You know sword skills but don't carry a sword?" Kazuha was skeptical.
"Training your body is just as important. You can't be helpless the moment you lose your weapon."
Kazuha paused, then remembered—
If he lost his sword, he really wouldn't be able to fight.
"Well, you're not wrong," he admitted. "But I never let go of my sword."
"That's different. Mine has to be kept away."
Carrying a tea set had cost him every skill. If he brought a sword...
Elliot didn't even want to imagine what kind of twisted thing the system might do next.
"How much longer will it rain?" he asked.
"About two hours."
"That's plenty."
With that, Elliot stripped off his clothes and stepped outside.
In the downpour, he dropped into the grass and began doing push-ups. The rain soaked his body, pulled at his focus, made everything heavier—but that was part of the training.
He gritted his teeth and let the rain hammer him.
Inside the hut, Kazuha frowned slightly as he watched Elliot push himself.
He could hear the voice of nature—and also the voice inside Elliot's heart.
It was the most complex sound he'd ever heard.
Sorrow dominated, followed by malice.
There was a trace of hope, and another of pure intent pressing back against the evil.
The ratio was roughly 9:6:1:6—purity barely balancing out the evil, but sorrow completely outweighing desire.
It felt like this man had endured immeasurable pain and was barely holding on, supported by a single thread of hope.
But...
How had that sliver of hope been enough to awaken a Vision?
How much pain did that mean he'd endured?
Why could he still laugh, still smile like none of it mattered?
Was it all just a mask?
Kazuha didn't know. He only knew—Elliot was carrying something heavy.
Just as Elliot finished a set and a half, it felt like his brain had been hit by a truck. His whole body shook violently as a wave of karmic corruption surged through him.
Unable to hold on, he collapsed.
Kazuha, who had been watching closely, immediately rushed out.
"What's wrong? Are you okay!?"
"Take me... inside..." Elliot said, barely holding on.
Kazuha quickly helped him back into the hut.
Elliot sat down and focused his mind, using the Calming Mantra.
After a long while, the contorted pain on his face finally faded, replaced by peace.
Kazuha let out a breath of relief.
They both stripped off their soaked clothes and wrung them out, then sat in silence, listening to the rainfall outside.
They stayed like that until the storm passed. Elliot slowly opened his eyes.
"Huh? Rain's already over? I wasn't done enjoying it yet," he said, disappointed.
"I saw you flat on the ground looking like you couldn't move. That wasn't enough for you?" Kazuha replied, exasperated.
"That's different. That was the aftermath of too much enjoyment."
"So it was that good, huh?"
"It was peak."
"..."
Kazuha slowly got up, pulled his clothes back on, and said, "The rain soaked all the dead branches, so we can't light a fire. We'll have to go see if anyone nearby is kind enough to take us in."
"Don't make it sound so tragic. Don't you have any Mora on you?"
"Nope..."
"You're a wandering samurai, but you're way too good at the wandering part."
Kazuha twitched at the jab, then asked back, "Do you have Mora?"
"Nope." Elliot answered without missing a beat.
"Then you—"
"Never mind. Forget I asked."
Kazuha was going to fire back but stopped. He knew better—he wouldn't win. He'd seen firsthand just how shameless this guy could be.
"Still, even without Mora, we shouldn't stoop so low. We're proud ronin. We don't eat food handed out in pity," Elliot said righteously.
"Well said. So, what do you suggest?" Kazuha had started to get used to his bizarre antics and decided to play along.
He wanted to see what nonsense would come next.
"You know how to catch fish, right?" Elliot asked.
"Yeah."
"Then let's catch a few and trade them with someone."
Kazuha paused to think. That... actually made some sense.
That way, they wouldn't be freeloading.
"Alright," he agreed without hesitation.
The two left the hut. With Kazuha leading, they walked a good distance before finding a small stream.
After wandering for so long, they'd gotten used to surviving in the wild. Finding a stream wasn't difficult.
Right after a rain was the best time to fish. Kazuha stepped into the water, stood still, and waited. Once the fish grew accustomed to his presence, he struck—snagging one cleanly with his blade.
Just as he turned to show off his catch, he saw Elliot standing on the bank, arms crossed like a foreman supervising a worker.
"What are you doing just standing there?" Kazuha asked.
"I'm allergic to fish."
"...What?"
Kazuha blinked.
"Then why did you say we should catch fish?"
"Because you can catch fish."
"???"