Chapter 20. System analysis
I was sitting on a rough wooden chair with my back to the door, feeling every crack in the boards with my back. Everything was quiet outside. It's too quiet. The feeling of someone else's eyes disappeared as suddenly as it appeared. They're gone. For a while.
I closed my eyes, rejecting all thoughts of the watchers, of Yuki sleeping by the stove, of the endless winter outside the walls. There was only silence and a clear, crystal thought inside me.
"The system. My profile."
A familiar holographic window dotted with scarlet patterns materialized in front of my inner eye.
Name: Azrael Age:17 (**) Viability:170 / 170 Skills:
· Sword Skill: 78%
· Killer Skill: [ACTIVATED]
· Skill: Young Body: [ACTIVATED]
· [UNAVAILABLE]
I studied the numbers by passing them through a cold analysis filter. Vitality has grown. The maximum threshold has increased. Thanks to the "Young Body" — the constant passive regeneration and strengthening of the body did their job. I hardly felt tired after an hour of intense training.
But something else caught my eye. Sword skill: 78%.
I mentally replayed the last fights in my head, all my moves. Speed, accuracy, calculation — everything was almost flawless. I could predict the enemy's movement, find a weak spot, and strike without wasting energy. But progress has slowed down. Previously, every serious fight raised the skill by several percent. Now, even after that massacre with the SP-series horde, the growth was not so significant.
"Hmm..." the mental sound was like a light server buzzing.
I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling, but not seeing it. My fingers involuntarily repeated the grip of the sword, replaying familiar movements in the air —quick slashes, precise jabs, honed blocks.
I've reached the ceiling in this style. The system rated it at almost eighty percent. But what is this one hundred percent? Absolute mastery in a single way of fencing? Or else…
The thought hit me with renewed force. I remembered that soldier in the clearing, the one who fired a machine gun. His movements were different. More rigid, straightforward, designed for brute force and suppression. And then there were those three from the Crimson Clan. Especially the one with the katana, Ragnar. His style was fierce, frenzied, almost savage, but there was a deadly harmony to this savagery.
"...slowly, I began to understand. Percentages... apparently, other sword styles are needed. Hmm."
The system didn't just evaluate my ability to hold a particular blade. She was evaluating my understanding of the sword as such. My ability to adapt, learn, and absorb new principles and techniques.
My swordsmanship was perfect... for a lone assassin working against unintelligent creatures. It was effective, deadly, and fast. But it was monotonous. Predictable for someone who could analyze it.
To grow further, I needed to go beyond my own style. Explore others. The fierce power of a soldier's cleaver. The violent rage of the Crimson style. Maybe something else I've never seen.
Only the synthesis of different schools, their analysis and adaptation to myself could lead me to true mastery. To that hundred percent. And maybe even further.
I opened my eyes. His gaze fell on the sleeping Yuki, then on the door, behind which a hostile world lurked.
The new styles meant having to watch other fighters. And that meant taking a risk. Contact. Perhaps even a conflict.
But there was no other way. Stagnation was equal to death.
I mentally closed the System window. The plan of action was clear.
I had to become a student again. Even if your teachers don't know you're watching them. And even if one of them is a fierce warrior with katanas and scarlet eyes, who quite possibly dreams of killing you.
For the first time in a long time, something remotely resembling a smile appeared on my lips. The challenge is accepted.