The frost came back, so did the wall. It had nothing new to teach except the same lesson until Taro learned it deeper.
"In," Brother Sen said, voice low as a shrine bell. "Not greedy. Out—own it."
Taro exhaled and felt the ribs carry shape. Shoulders quiet. Pelvis stacked. Sen's two fingers tried to spill him; the force ran through Taro into stone like water finding its old riverbed.
"Good," Sen murmured. "Again."
The same lesson, building a foundating that was unshakable. Allowing Taro to be unyielding and undefeatable once mastered.
"Guard Melt," Sen said at last, lifting pad and palm. "Same seam, one breath. Don't bludgeon—soften."
Taro tapped the same gap twice on a single exhale—flick, settle, flick—and felt the leather want to open for a third it felt cleaner, smoother this time. The point wasn't power he felt the flow. It was obedience: body to breath, target to rhythm. It all came together and had a solid smack spind out that shook Sean's unmovable arm by a hair.
Sen pressure-walked him backward, then shoved. Taro let his ribs settle into stance and gave the shove to the ground. His boots squeaked a white line of frost but held.
"Root," Sen said, pleased. "It is very hard to uproot a man whose breath is a pillar."
They finished with Snap Step into Centerline Surge, the micro-lunge arriving like the end of a thought. Pad thud. Tidy, sure.
The bell rolled the hour across the meadow. A clean card wrote itself:
> Technique Progress: Guard Melt (Concept → I) — slightly stronger guard-opening when repeating seam strikes within one breath cycle.
Sen slung the rope over his shoulder. "A week of monastery business," he said. "Keep the breath honest, the numbers boring, the exits memorized."
"I'll make you proud with boredom," Taro said.
Sen's mouth made that not-smile. "If you must err, err on the side of living. I'll see you when the saints run out of patience with me."
He walked toward the road like a man who had friends to disappoint gently. Taro stayed with the wall a breath longer, then turned toward the dungeon.
---
The dungeon's breath was cool and metallic, the light patient. Taro lifted his torch just below eye-line and eased into Route A: broken arch, dry-well elbow, short loop. He set the morning's goal in his head like a corner's order: twenty pelts, twenty-five ears, two dire pelts minimum.
Two wolves slid out of the pillars once again and learned that a man can occupy a space before his foot does, like their predecessors this lesson was forgotten with their deaths.
Snap Step → Surge kissed the first to the skull base; a pivot-hook folded the second at the ribs.
He pelted them and gathered the drops to progress deeper.
At a narrow throat of stone, a goblin sapper scuttled with a clay gourd hugged to its chest, grinning future-clever. Taro gave it the half-beat; he kept the second. The sapper whipped low. Taro stepped off-line with breath already set and flicked a jab to the wrist—not to hurt, to aim. Clay spat caltrops into the wall instead of the floor. On the exhale turn, he slipped inside and set a short cross to the jaw hinge. The sapper dreamed of better days. And then dreamed no more as a follow up left a loud crack in the air as bones broke beneath a fist.
He kept Surge honest: only when the breath had earned it. A warm ache threaded his ribs after the third clean transfer. He told the ache to wait and let his hooks do more talking. When a wolf tried a high finish at his shoulder, Weave Engine carried him under, and a body-head ladder made the sound of good choices.
A dire wolf finally came with the low thunder of paws that knew what they were. It feinted high to lift his guard, then tried to bull the center. Taro owned the exhale, braided left-right-left with his slip steps, stole the angle, then wrote his name on the moment with hook, hook, short right. The big animal lay down like it had remembered a different life.
By mid-morning he had twelve pelts, sixteen ears, one dire pelt, and four fangs. He left the floor with breath steady and a route mapped in muscle.
---
Kelda made the day obey at the counter. She weighed pelts, counted ears, and nodded like the numbers had finally learned manners.
"Investigator team's cutting resets," she said, tallying without looking. "Don't get cocky on the afternoon pass—There have been reports of more wolves since we began to put pressure on the goblin clan."
"How's the pay looking today?"
"Pelt, three silver. Ear, one. Fang, a half. Gourd to apothecary, two. No changes to the rates today." She flicked her quill at his boots and cuirass. "Spend it where it keeps you breathing."
"After lunch checking on some goals that will help me live," Taro said. "Then back down."
"Good. The muster notice for Irontooth posts by dusk," Kelda added. "Sign if you want to work for your lifestyle."
"I'll be there," Taro said.
---
The licensed bond house had clean air and sharper edges—magistrate seal over the clerk's desk, ledgers neat enough to make a priest sigh. Taro asked for housekeepers with porter training, dungeon composure, and basic triage. They showed him a slate of faces and files.
A human maid, twenty-four, steady in kitchens but timid in narrow halls—pass for dungeons. An elf attendant, thirty-six, literate and graceful, poor in close quarters—pass for now. A dwarf houseman, thirty-one, tidy and stubborn, some shield skills and hammer techniques—solid, slow.
Then the clerk brought up a profile with black hair and floppy labrador ears that framed a round, clear face. The tail in the sketch swished in a little arc even though sketches ought not to move.
> Name: Trixie (verified adult: 18)
Origin: Debt bond (parental sale; magistrate file #S-412)
Training: Housekeeping (kitchen, laundry, inventory), porter, beast warrior basics, camp triage; companion etiquette (city-legal)
Stats (collar plate read): STR 48 / END 52 / AGI 44 / SPIRIT 41 / MIND 39 / LUCK 40
Contract: Perpetual debt bond (buyer may amend with manumission deposit and buyout path)
Price: 3 gold, 80 silver
Notes: Calm under pressure; line-following; loyal disposition.
"Show me the consent clauses," Taro said. The clerk flipped to them without sighing—professional to the bone.
Housekeeping was straightforward: cooking, cleaning, laundry, inventory; porter in the field—carry pack, hand bandages, follow orders, do what the master says. Companionship sat in its own neat box: shared bath, massage, sleeping in the master's bed if invited, kissing, discreet intimate companionship with boundaries set by master—all adults only, audited, healers on retainer, and the worker's right to call the house mother or the city if a clause was bent.
Trixie herself stood at the interview lattice in simple linen, tail sweeping once, then controlled stillness. Up close her ears were even softer than they looked, and her eyes held a dog's honest curiosity without the dog's need to please. Taro looked her over she looked human, she wore sandals that shows her toes and feet had no fur or claws, her hands had no claws or fur either. Other than her tail, hair, and ears, she looked human.
"Are you here to buy me?" she asked. The voice was warm, not coy.
"I'm here to understand you," Taro said. "And to decide if I should come back with coin."
She held his gaze without flinching. "I cook clean food and keep lists so nothing runs out. In a dungeon I carry heavy and I don't break line. I can wrap a cut and keep a man's breath from running away. I am trained to keep my master company at night if the contract says so. I prefer gentle. I am good at it. I am also good at saying no when I am too tired to do a thing well. If you are kind, I will be loyal."
"Do you want a manumission path added?" Taro asked.
"Yes," she said at once. "If you can. My parents were not wicked. They were poor."
"Then I'll amend the contract if I buy," he said. "Deposit to the magistrate, buyout path filed."
Her ears lifted a fraction. "Thank you."
The broker—Ashem Vell, in a coat that knew how to be admired—watched them the way a jeweler watches a set. "Per our earlier talk," he said smoothly, "I can hold Trixie five days before I expose her to open auction. No fee, Master Taro. Serious buyers earn courtesies. Bring coin, and we will add your manumission amendments at closing."
Taro looked from Trixie to the numbers in his head. 3g 80s wasn't a mountain, but it was not a stroll. "Hold her," he said. "I'll be back with money within that time."
"Five days," Ashem said. "We will, of course, entertain interviews with you for other candidates as well, should you wish to compare."
"I will," Taro said. "But I've seen what I needed to see for now. And I am not disappointed."
Trixie's tail swept once like punctuation and settled again a small smile graced her features. Taro inclined his head, not to promise more than he had, but to promise exactly what he had.
---
The guild's main board had grown a new tooth: IRONTOOTH SUBJUGATION MUSTER — Test in 2 Days. Minimums listed in neat iron: stamina check, formation drill, hazard recall. Payment is 1 gold coin for joining, 3 silvers per goblin subjugated.
Taro signed. Kelda's eyebrow rose the way a coach's eyebrow rises for a fighter who has done roadwork without being nagged.
"Show me clean entries and exits tomorrow," she said. "If you try to be interesting, I'll throw you off the team."
"I thrive on being boring, honest, and straightforward," Taro said. "You'll see."
---
He went below again. Afternoon light bent into the dungeon and fell apart on stone. He wore his weight like it belonged to him and let Load-Bearing Breath ease the cuirass across his frame on each exhale. Wolves tested him at a trot and found the angle stolen. He tagged a second dire wolf with the same body-head ladder, paid a little rib-ache for getting greedy on a Surge, and promised his bones he'd take the lesson.
A goblin sapper cell tried to feed him caltrops; he baited the throw into a wall, caught a wrist to deny a second gourd, then Counter-Tempo stepped on the off-beat to put two down without getting stupid.
Evening deepened the halls, and with it luck: a third dire wolf—a scar across one eye, smarter than the usual. It shouldered him once, hard enough to ring the cuirass like a scraped bell. Rooted Frame held him; he didn't argue. He wove, harvested the angle, and finished with the ladder the way you do when you are not here to write poetry, only to do work.
At a stair sentry he met a hobgoblin—shield kept honest, feet quiet. Taro gave it two flicks in one breath on the same seam, felt the guard soften, and slid a short cross through the opening. The hobgoblin sat down like a chair had been placed behind it. He took the token and moved on.
He surfaced long after the town had put on its lamps. He smelled bread, iron, and his own restraint.
Numbers made themselves on the counter in Kelda's tidy hand:
— Pelts: twenty-two → 66s
— Dire pelts: three → 36s
— Ears: twenty-eight → 28s
— Fangs: eight → 4s
— Gourd: one → 2s
— Hobgoblin token: 10s
"One gold, forty-six silver," Kelda said, pushing the purse across. "On top of what you had, that puts you at about two gold, five silver. You keep this steadiness for another day, and your problems become better problems."
"Yes, ma'am," Taro said.
On the walk out, the air rippled in that way it did when the world agreed.
> Combat Adaptation Registered.
Martial God's Champion — Blessed Growth: +2 to all stats.
Technique Progress: Load-Bearing Breath (Novice → I) — slightly improved AGI retention in medium armor on exhale.
The warmth came without drama. He had not been given anything he hadn't paid for.
He ate on his feet again—stew and bread from the woman who salted like a prophet. He walked the lane with the for-rent townhouse, looked up at the shutters and the stubborn gutter, and imagined a training bag hanging from the rafters. He imagined a kitchen where lists lived on a chalk board and boots dried by a proper hearth. He imagined Trixie measuring flour without waste, tail tapping a little metronome of contentment while he checked leather and breath before a job.
Not a dream. A plan.
He wrapped his hands under a street lamp and tossed soft jabs at the space between lamp and dark. The bracers caught each touch like a friend who intended to keep promises.
The town breathed. He breathed back.
He fell onto the inn bed that had learned his weight and blinked as three neat panes unrolled, like a corner man laying out the next day on a stool:
> Training Planner Updated — Dawn:
Breath Ladder (4/6 → 6/8), Rope Line hips, Armor Steps; Guard Melt I (10 sets); cooldown stretch.
> Training Planner Updated — Late Morning:
Dungeon Route A (arch → well elbow → north loop); wolves/dire priority; Surge cap: 3; exit for turn-in.
> Training Planner Updated — Evening:
Short hunt (wolves/dire), no chases; cooldown walk; hand care; ledger update.
He smiled at the ceiling because nobody was there to see him do it.
Two days to muster. Five days to raise coin. Breath before coin. Breath before collar. Breath before everything.
He closed his eyes and let the town breathe him to sleep.
---
Status — Taro
Class: Junior Fistfighter
Title: Martial God's Champion (SSS)
HP: 280 base (10× END 28) → 780 effective (during combat/training; END 78)
Ki: 24
Base Stats (end of Ch.4 → post-day adaptation)
STR: 28 → 30
END: 26 → 28
AGI: 24 → 26
SPIRIT: 25 → 27
MIND: 22 → 24
LUCK: 21 → 23
Effective Physicals (in combat/training; SSS +50)
STR: 80 | END: 78 | AGI: 76
Skills & Techniques
Martial God's Champion (SSS): accelerated growth; Blessed Growth (+2 all on meaningful training/adaptation); +50 to STR/END/AGI in combat/training.
Ki Breathing (Novice) — controlled exhale; compression resistance; slow out-of-combat Ki regen.
Rooted Frame (Novice) — brief knockback resistance while exhaling into stance.
Guard Melt I — stronger guard-opening when repeating seam strikes within one breath.
Centerline Surge (Novice) — short-range exhale transfer; synergy with Snap Step; minor rib ache if overused.
Weave Engine I — AGI surge + counterpower after consecutive slips/rolls.
Snap Step (Novice) — breath-led micro-lunge; brief AGI→Power conversion.
Counter-Tempo II — larger interrupt window; slight accuracy & guard-stagger bonus on disrupted rhythms.
Load-Bearing Breath I — better AGI retention and power transfer in cuirass on exhale.
Gear
Padded Leather Cuirass (short); Forearm Bracers; Sturdy Leather Boots; Leather Knuckle Wraps; Hooded Cloak; Hand Salve.
Ledger
Purse: 2g 5s
Targets: Buy Trixie (3g 80s, with manumission deposit + buyout path amendments); townhouse deposit (~5g); later, artisan-combat bond (~6g 40s).
Deadlines: 5-day hold on Trixie; Muster test in 2 days.