Two months had passed since Ghost had placed Black Soul into Fenix's trembling hands and declared him a student of the Way of the Katana. Two months of relentless dawn-to-dusk training that had transformed the hilltop beneath the ancient sakura tree into a sacred ground where impossibility bent its knee to unwavering determination.
The morning sun cast familiar golden rays through the pink blossoms, but the figure moving beneath them bore little resemblance to the boy who had first stumbled up this slope with barely controlled aura and desperate dreams of strength.
Fenix Ackerman stood at the hill's center, Black Soul held in a perfect high guard position, his entire form radiating the controlled lethality of someone who had earned his place among true warriors. His white hair was pulled back in a functional knot, sweat beading on his forehead despite the cool morning air. His crimson eyes held depths of knowledge that hadn't existed three months ago, the hard-won wisdom of someone who had pushed beyond every limit and discovered new ones waiting beyond.
His stance was flawless now, each muscle positioned with mathematical precision to create the optimal platform for explosive movement. Gone was the hesitant, uncertain footwork of his early training. In its place stood a fighter whose every micro-adjustment spoke of countless hours spent perfecting the fundamentals until they became as natural as breathing.
"Begin," Ghost commanded from his position against the sakura trunk, his ancient eyes tracking every nuance of movement with the intensity of a master craftsman evaluating his greatest work.
What followed was a display that would have been impossible to imagine just two months earlier.
Fenix flowed into the First Strike with liquid grace, the vertical cut descending like controlled lightning. But unlike his early attempts, this strike carried the accumulated power of his entire body, legs driving upward from the earth, hips adding devastating rotational force, shoulders transferring energy through his core, hands guiding Black Soul along a path of geometric perfection that seemed to cut reality itself.
Without pause, he transitioned into the Second Strike, the diagonal slash following so smoothly it appeared to be a continuation of the same movement. His footwork shifted seamlessly to accommodate the new angle, his weight distribution adjusting automatically to maintain perfect balance throughout the technique.
The Third Strike came next, a horizontal cut that whistled through the air with enough force to bisect a tree trunk. Then the Fourth Strike, the reverse diagonal that approached from an unexpected angle designed to confuse defensive timing. Each technique flowed into the next like water finding its inevitable path downhill.
But it wasn't just the individual cuts that demonstrated his growth. Between each major technique, Fenix incorporated subtle adjustments, micro-steps that optimized his positioning, grip shifts that prepared for the next attack, breathing patterns that maintained his stamina while keeping his aura core primed for explosive enhancement.
When he concluded the sequence with the Eighth Strike, the blood-shaking flick that would clear his blade after real combat, Ghost found himself nodding with something approaching amazement.
"Better," the older man admitted, though his tone carried deeper currents of approval than the simple word suggested. "Again, but this time with aura enhancement."
Fenix's expression shifted to one of focused determination. This was where two months of intensive training truly showed its worth.
His crimson aura began to manifest, but gone was the wild, uncontrolled energy that had once threatened to tear him apart from within. This power emerged with the steady confidence of something that had been mastered through countless hours of disciplined practice. The energy didn't explode outward in chaotic display, instead, it coiled around his form like liquid fire given perfect control and direction.
More impressive still was what came next.
The translucent crimson scales of his Armament Aura began materializing across his hands, forearms, and neck. Unlike his first desperate attempt at the technique, this manifestation was smooth and controlled, each scale appearing with crystalline precision. The armor didn't just protect,it enhanced, creating channels through which his spiritual energy could flow more efficiently while providing defensive capabilities that could turn aside most conventional weapons.
But Ghost's eyes widened as he observed something that shouldn't have been possible at Fenix's supposed rank.
The Armament wasn't just covering the boy's extremities anymore. Faint traces of the protective scaling were beginning to appear along his shoulders and upper arms, creeping gradually toward his torso in patterns that suggested a level of mastery that typically required years of dedicated practice to achieve.
'Impossible,' Ghost thought, his analytical mind struggling to process what his enhanced senses were detecting. 'Full-torso Armament manifestation should be beyond him for at least another rank advancement. Unless…'
His internal assessment was interrupted as Fenix launched into the same technique sequence, but now enhanced by both raw aura and protective armament. The difference was staggering.
Each cut moved through the air with the whisper of displaced wind, but underneath that whisper was something else, a harmonic resonance that spoke of energy being channeled through the blade itself. Black Soul's dark steel seemed to drink in Fenix's crimson aura and transform it into something even more concentrated and deadly.
When his First Strike descended this time, the very air around the blade's path shimmered with barely contained power. His Second Strike left a faint trail of red light that lingered for heartbeats after the sword had passed. By the time he reached the Third Strike, the horizontal cut was moving so fast it created a visible pressure wave that bent the grass in its wake.
Ghost found himself unconsciously gripping his own weapon as he watched this display of advancing mastery. Three months ago, Fenix had been a barely awakened Novice struggling to maintain basic aura manifestation for more than a few minutes. Now he was demonstrating technique integration that bordered on the sublime.
"Enough," Ghost called, though his voice carried admiration rather than criticism.
Fenix immediately ceased his movement, settling back into a perfect ready stance as his enhanced aura gradually faded back to dormancy. His breathing was elevated but controlled, evidence of improved stamina and energy management that came from months of pushing his limits daily.
"Your progress," Ghost began slowly, choosing his words with unusual care, "is beyond what I thought possible in such a short timeframe. The integration between your aura manipulation, Armament techniques, and weapon skills has reached a level that most warriors don't achieve until they've trained for years."
He stood and began pacing around the hilltop, his expression thoughtful and perhaps slightly troubled.
"But there's something else," he continued, his ancient eyes studying Fenix with renewed intensity. "Your aura signature has been fluctuating in ways that suggest fundamental changes occurring at the core level. Tell me, have you been experiencing any unusual sensations during meditation? Pressure in your chest? Moments where your energy feels... different?"
Fenix considered the question carefully. Now that Ghost mentioned it, there had been changes over the past few weeks. During his morning meditations, he had begun feeling something stirring deep within his aura core—not painful, but definitely different from the steady pulse that had become familiar since his initial awakening.
"Yes," he admitted. "Especially during the last week or so. Sometimes it feels like there's something trying to expand inside my chest, but I can't quite... release it."
Ghost's pacing stopped abruptly, his entire body going still in the way of a predator that has just detected something significant.
"Show me your current limit," he commanded, his voice carrying an edge of urgent curiosity. "Full aura manifestation, maximum Armament coverage, weapon enhancement, everything you can manage simultaneously."
Fenix nodded and immediately began channeling every technique he had mastered over the past two months. His crimson aura blazed to life with controlled intensity, painting the morning air in shades of liquid fire. The translucent scales of his Armament spread across his hands, arms, neck, and now, to Ghost's sharp-eyed observation, began creeping across his shoulders and upper chest in patterns that shouldn't have been possible at Novice+ rank.
Black Soul itself began glowing with channeled energy, the dark steel taking on a crimson edge that made it appear forged from crystallized willpower. The weapon hummed with barely contained power, eager to be unleashed against worthy opponents.
For several seconds, Fenix maintained this peak display of everything he had learned. His stance remained perfect, his breathing controlled, his focus absolute. This wasn't the desperate, barely controlled energy of his early training—this was the refined power of someone who had earned his strength through dedication and sacrifice.
Then something unexpected began happening.
The pressure in his chest that he had mentioned to Ghost suddenly intensified, as if some internal barrier was finally beginning to crack under the sustained force of his channeled energy. His aura core, which had been pulsing with steady rhythm for months, began fluctuating in patterns that felt both alien and oddly familiar.
Ghost's eyes widened as his enhanced senses detected energy readings that made his breath catch in his throat.
"Kid," he said urgently, "don't fight whatever's happening. Let it come naturally."
The pressure in Fenix's chest built to almost unbearable levels, like a dam holding back an ocean that had finally reached its breaking point. His crimson aura began swirling faster around his body, the energy taking on new depth and intensity that spoke of fundamental transformation occurring at the deepest levels of his being.
His Armament Aura responded to the changes, the translucent scales spreading further across his torso while becoming more solid and defined. What had been barely visible protection was rapidly approaching the density and coverage that masters spent decades trying to achieve.
But it was Black Soul that provided the most dramatic evidence of what was occurring. The blade's glow intensified until it became almost painful to look at directly, and the harmonic resonance between weapon and wielder reached frequencies that made the ancient sakura tree's branches tremble in perfect sympathy.
Ghost found himself unconsciously stepping backward as he realized what he was witnessing, something that should have taken years of careful cultivation compressed into a single moment of breakthrough.
"Impossible," he whispered, though his tone carried awe rather than disbelief. "Three months of training, and he's about to..."
The pressure in Fenix's chest reached a crescendo that felt like his entire being was about to explode from within. Every nerve in his body sang with energy that demanded release, every muscle fiber vibrated with power that sought expression, every thought focused on the single truth that was reshaping his understanding of his own potential.
His aura core wasn't just fluctuating anymore—it was evolving.
The steady pulse that had marked him as Novice+ rank for months suddenly doubled in intensity and complexity. Where there had been simple rhythm, now there was symphony. Where there had been basic energy circulation, now there was sophisticated power management that spoke of advancement to an entirely new tier of existence.
Ghost watched with fascination and growing excitement as readings that should have been impossible became undeniable reality.
"Kid," he said, his voice carrying notes of something that might have been pride mixed with professional amazement, "you're breaking through to Intermediate rank. Right here, right now, after only three months of training."
The words seemed to trigger the final stage of Fenix's transformation. His crimson aura exploded outward in a controlled surge that painted the entire hilltop in shades of liquid fire. The expansion was so perfectly managed that not a single cherry blossom was disturbed by the release of power that should have created hurricane-force winds.
His Armament Aura achieved full coverage across his torso for the first time, the translucent scales creating an overlay of protection that made him appear like some primordial warrior carved from living crystal and divine flame. Black Soul blazed with channeled energy.
But most significantly, the fundamental signature of his spiritual energy had shifted in ways that marked him as genuinely, undeniably Intermediate rank, a level of power that most warriors required years of dedicated cultivation to achieve.
Ghost stared at his student, his protégé, his 'successor' with an expression that combined satisfaction, amazement, and perhaps just a hint of concern for what they had unleashed upon the world.
"Three months," he murmured, shaking his head in wonder. "Three months from barely awakened Novice to legitimate Intermediate rank, with technique integration that rivals fighters with decades of experience."
He looked up at the ancient sakura tree whose blossoms had witnessed this impossible transformation, then back at Fenix who stood wreathed in power that defied every natural law of cultivation and advancement.
"Boy," Ghost said quietly, his voice carrying the weight of absolute certainty, "you're not just talented. You're not just a prodigy. You're something that shouldn't exist according to every rule I thought I understood about how warriors develop."
As Fenix's breakthrough energy gradually settled back into stable manifestation, both mentor and student understood that the next three months leading up to his trial with Khan would be unlike anything either of them had imagined possible.
The real question was no longer whether Fenix could survive his uncle's challenge.
The question was whether anyone could survive what Fenix was becoming.