It was now a whole year since I woke up, and the time had finally come.
"I cannot train you."
Veronica said it with the same conviction she'd had every other time I asked. This was literally the third day I'd been requesting this, and she still wouldn't budge. I had tried all methods to change her mind, but she remained adamant about it, stating she would sooner kill herself than put me in harm's way.
"You're not putting me in harm's way," I said, massaging my forehead. I was sitting on the sink in the kitchen, watching her clean up the place.
She was now dressed in what looked like a gown but wasn't exactly that. It went from the top to halfway down her knee, black in color and contrasting sharply with her pure white hair tied in a ponytail. Her ember hairpin was still there as always. Oh, and she also had glasses on.
"Why do you need to get stronger?" she asked without looking up from her work.
"Is that a rhetorical question?" I replied with a frown.
"Look, you don't need to go through such training. There is absolutely no need for it. You don't need to get any stronger than this." She said it sternly, her hands pausing over the counter as she finally turned to face me. "This might sound disrespectful and harsh, but it's the truth. No amount of 'training' would be able to get you to the level of a Rank F-, and I'm not even kidding. The gap is too wide to bridge. So don't put yourself through unnecessary torment when you know very well it wouldn't yield anything at the end of the day."
I sighed and closed my eyes to think deeply.
She was right. Even an idiot weakling could become a huge danger to me the moment they enhanced themselves with mana. That was the problem. That was why I made my plan of hunting for those characters to become my arms and legs—I couldn't do anything on my own. I was never meant to be STRONG. That goes against everything Artemis stands for.
But...
"Veronica," I opened my eyes and looked straight at her. I won't let that stop me. "I'm asking for the last time. Will you train me?"
My arms were folded as I stared down at her. I won't let anyone stop me. I am the author of this world. I created Artemis. I created Atlantis. I won't let a few character settings tell me what I can and cannot do. Yes, Artemis doesn't have mana and has no chance of using mana, but that won't stop me. If there was one thing I created in this world, it was the chance of endless possibilities.
There is a way. I know there is.
I will figure it out at some point, no matter how long it takes me. However, for now, what I need to do is train myself, to whip this body into shape. Mana or no mana, Artemis is now incapable of combat due to his long absence from it. My body has gotten too sluggish for my own good.
"Master, you were trained in swordsmanship for five years. You know how that ended," she spoke calmly, her eyes meeting mine through those circular golden-rimmed glasses.
"That's not an answer to my question," I responded.
She stayed silent for a while, her jaw tightening slightly before she finally spoke again. "No. I cannot put you in harm's way. Your body is too fragile to be subjected to harsh treatment."
I hopped down from the sink and headed out. I should have known from the start—she won't be of any help to me.
"It is my duty to protect you from any form of harm, and that includes self-inflicted, even if I have to apply force," I heard her say as I left, but I didn't bother responding.
SLASH.
SLASH.
SLASH.
I was now in one of the training rooms of the mansion with a carved wooden sword, slashing against a wooden dummy. The room was spacious but empty, just bare stone walls and a few pieces of training equipment scattered around. Dust particles floated in the air where sunlight streamed through the high windows.
SLASH.
SLASH.
That was about the seventy-fifth slash I had taken. A glance at my palm revealed blisters forming on the skin, red and raw, but I kept going. Nothing good comes easy after all. Since Veronica won't train me, I'll have to do it myself.
The moment I leave this dimension, I would be whisked off to the academy where the plot would instantly kick off. I won't get such a chance again. This is it. This is the only window I have to prepare myself.
"HAAAH... HAAAH... HAAAH..."
I panted, sweating heavily after about a hundred and thirty slashes or thereabouts. My arms felt like lead, my shoulders burned, and my grip on the wooden sword was starting to slip from the sweat and blood mixing on my palms.
Really? Only this much?
Sighs.
I'm so weak. Damn it.
"Water?"
I heard her voice, then turned back to find Veronica standing near the doorway with a bottle of water in hand. I ignored her and kept slashing.
SLASH.
SLASH.
"Sighs. Come on, Artemis, don't make me the enemy here. I'm only doing this for your own good." She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, those circular golden-rimmed glasses still perched on her nose. "False hope is a silent killer. I don't want to put you through something that would only bring you pain, and at the end of it all, there would be nothing to show for all the pain and effort. That could break you."
SLASH.
SLASH.
"Please, stop doing this to yourself. You just have to trust me."
If only...