Daniel's bones still ached from the last session, but there was no rest. Ragna stood in front of him on the plateau, his blade sheathed, arms folded as if the world itself were too boring for him.
"Get up," he said flatly.
Daniel rose slowly, his muscles trembling with every movement. His hands were torn, blistered from gripping the katana. His shoulders were raw from the rock training. His legs felt like broken glass. But he stood.
"Good," Ragna muttered. His eyes narrowed. "Now the real training begins."
Daniel's chest tightened. "That wasn't real?"
Ragna's lips curled faintly, though not into a smile. "That was to break you. Now we rebuild."
With that, he unsheathed his katana. The sound of steel against steel echoed across the plateau like a warning. "From this point on, I'll kill you a hundred times. Whether you crawl back from it or not… that's up to you."
Daniel clenched the red-handled katana. His grin crept across his bruised face, shadowed beneath the morning light. "Then let's see if you can."
The ground cracked as Ragna moved. No sound preceded his dash, only the sudden impact of his blade striking against Daniel's in a violent clash. Daniel's arms buckled instantly, the strength difference like night and day. His knees crashed into the gravel, sparks flying from the force of the strike.
"You're too slow."
Ragna twisted his wrist and slammed Daniel's katana out of his grip. The weapon spun across the plateau. Before Daniel could react, Ragna's blade rested against his throat.
Dead.
Daniel gasped. His mind reeled. He hadn't even seen the strike.
"Again," Ragna said coldly. He stepped back, sheathing his katana.
Daniel staggered to his feet, retrieved his weapon, and charged. He screamed with everything in his lungs, swinging wildly, desperately.
Ragna sidestepped with a single step, fluid as a shadow. His hilt cracked against Daniel's temple, dropping him flat.
Dead.
When Daniel woke, he was bleeding from his head. His katana lay beside him. Ragna hadn't moved an inch.
"Again."
The cycle repeated. Day bled into night. Again. Again. Again. Each time Daniel fell, Ragna's voice was the same, cold and merciless. Each time, Daniel dragged himself back up, grin widening, eyes growing darker.
On the twelfth fall, Daniel's body barely responded. He trembled on the ground, coughing blood into the dirt. His chest rose and fell like a dying animal.
Ragna crouched beside him. His tone was calm, but heavy as steel. "Your problem, Daniel, is that you think fighting is about surviving. Wrong. Fighting is about killing. If you can't strike with that intent, you'll never surpass anyone."
Daniel's shadowed eyes lifted. His bloody smile widened. "Then I'll kill you."
For the first time, Ragna's expression shifted. He smirked faintly.
"Try."
The next morning, the training shifted again.
"Drop the blade," Ragna ordered.
Daniel blinked. "What?"
"Today, no weapon. If you can't kill me with your body, you're not worthy of wielding steel."
Daniel dropped the katana, confusion sparking through his exhaustion.
Ragna came at him bare-handed this time. His fists and feet moved like blades themselves, striking with precision and force. The first blow shattered Daniel's nose. The second caved his ribs. The third sent him flying across the plateau, his back scraping against the gravel.
Daniel writhed in agony, but he stood. Every strike came faster, sharper, more brutal. Ragna's unique style blended swordsmanship with raw martial skill, a storm of violence that Daniel couldn't keep up with.
Again, he fell. Again, Ragna's voice echoed.
"Stand. Or stay dead."
Daniel's world blurred, but his body moved. His fists clenched, his breathing ragged. He swung, wild and sloppy. Ragna blocked with ease, but something in Daniel's movements shifted. A twitch of his wrist, a faint adjustment in his stance. The beginnings of copying.
"You're learning," Ragna muttered. His heel slammed into Daniel's ribs again, sending him to the ground. "Pathetic, but learning."
Daniel coughed blood, his grin wider than ever. "Good… because I'm not done yet."
By the end of the week, Daniel's body was unrecognizable. Bruises covered him from head to toe. His hands were torn open. His ribs were cracked. But his eyes burned hotter, his grin sharper.
And then came the night.
Ragna stood at the cliff's edge, staring at the stars. His katana rested at his side.
"Tomorrow, Danny," he said quietly, not looking back. "Tomorrow, I'll show you what it means to truly die."
Daniel lay on the ground behind him, bloodied and broken. But his voice rose in the night, hoarse, twisted with madness.
"Then tomorrow, Master… I'll show you what it means to truly live."