Orimo's mind raced. The war was coming. When he finally faced Ryujin Hibuko — Morgan Tarek — the very earth would tremble beneath their clash.
Scene shifted to Yura Takeda, seated deep within his cave, shadows flickering across the walls. He spoke calmly, yet with steely resolve:
"Three days from now… on the land of the Old Clash. Mountains taller than any man has seen, lightning ripping across the sky almost constantly. Ryujin Hibuko will be there, overseeing the training of his forces. That's where we strike."
Auransa nodded sharply. "Understood."
One day passed. Orimo continued his relentless training within his prison cell, his wound gradually knitting back together. The old man's voice echoed softly:
"Your progress is impressive. Soon, you may be strong enough to challenge him."
Orimo's eyes narrowed. "Yeah…"
The old man leaned closer, shadows dancing over his face. "But there's another skill you must master — Clairveil Mantra. A state of pure awareness. You won't just see attacks… you'll feel them. Anticipate intent before the movement. Instinct faster than thought."
Orimo frowned, intrigued. "How… how do I train it?"
The old man's lips curved into a faint grin. "You cannot train this alone. That's why I am here."
In the darkness, the iron gate of the adjacent prison cell creaked open with a heavy THUD! A figure stepped inside, calm but deliberate.
"I already had the key to your cage," the old man said, voice steady.
Orimo raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know you were that old."
The man chuckled softly. "I'm not that old. Just sixty-five years."
Shadows shifted across the room as the two prepared — master and student — the storm outside echoing the coming battles.