"Because right now my feet are planted parallel. My throat is the only vital spot that does not have bone directly guarding it."
"And my breathing has just entered the exhalation phase. The muscles in my throat are at their loosest."
Silvers Rayleigh's fist stopped one inch in front of Bullet's throat.
Perfectly correct.
"Second move."
Rayleigh did not pull his fist back. He flowed straight into another technique.
His right fist opened into a palm and swept sideways toward Bullet's left ear. The transition was as quick as lightning, almost without warning.
But Bullet had already ducked and lowered his head half a second in advance.
"A sweeping change-up, target is the temple."
"The basis is that in the final tenth of a second of your jab, the anterior deltoid on your right shoulder had an abnormal 0.1 second contraction, a tell that you were storing power for a horizontal sweep."
"And my backward tilt to protect my throat would have exposed my temple right into your most comfortable striking angle."
The rush of wind from the palm brushed over his head.
"Third move."
Rayleigh's left leg lashed out in a soundless kick, aimed at the side of Bullet's right knee.
Bullet did not dodge backward. Instead he shifted his weight onto his left leg ahead of time, his right leg lifting slightly.
That single adjustment let his knee slip away from the most direct impact point.
"Low sweep, target is my supporting leg."
"The basis is that after your sweep missed, your left heel made a subtle rotational adjustment, a prep action for the kick."
"And with me crouching and bowing my head, my lower stance stability drops, so hitting the legs is the most efficient way to break my balance."
Three moves. Three perfect predictions.
Rayleigh stopped and looked at Bullet with a complicated expression.
"You…"
He paused for a heartbeat.
"Do you know what you exposed in those three explanations?"
Bullet blinked, taken aback.
"You are not 'foreseeing'," Rayleigh said slowly. "You are calculating."
"A normal Observation user, when predicting, will say something like 'he is going to strike my throat.'"
"But you say, 'he is going to strike my throat, because such and such and such.'"
He stepped closer and locked eyes with Bullet.
"Your Observation, rather than foreseeing the future, is closer to high speed computation."
"You seize every tiny signal from my body."
"Then, with that monster brain of yours, you compute in an instant what I am most likely to do next."
Bullet fell silent, then nodded.
"Yes."
"If the known conditions are sufficient, you can calculate the answer."
"But there is a limit."
Rayleigh continued.
"What if the opponent's speed is so high that you have no time to calculate?"
"What if the opponent's techniques are so complex they exceed your ability to compute them?"
"What if the opponent deliberately sends false signals to mislead you?"
The questions were sharp, like thrusts aimed at a weak point.
Bullet thought for a moment, then answered, "Then I need faster calculation speed, a larger combat database, and… to learn how to distinguish true from false signals."
"Exactly."
Rayleigh smiled.
"The next phase of training is aimed at those three points."
He raised the bamboo sword again.
"Now I will raise my speed to fifty percent."
"Your task does not change. Predict, and state your basis."
"But this time I will purposely add feints and misleading signals."
Bullet nodded and closed his eyes once more.
Round two began.
Rayleigh's first move was still a jab.
This time, the contraction of the anterior deltoid on his right shoulder was even more pronounced, as if he were going all out.
But Bullet noticed that the weight distribution on Rayleigh's right foot was wrong.
If it were truly a full power jab, his weight should have been pitched more heavily forward.
"Feint."
Bullet spoke without moving his body.
"The real attack is in the left leg."
The moment the words left his mouth, Rayleigh's right fist stopped halfway, and the low sweep of his left leg came right on cue.
"The basis is weight distribution and breathing rhythm."
"A full power jab must sync with an explosive exhalation, but your inhalation stopped at about seventy percent."
"Very good."
There was clear praise in Rayleigh's voice.
"Continue."
For the next ten minutes, Rayleigh unleashed forty-seven attacks.
Bullet correctly predicted forty-two of them, and missed five.
Those five were all misdirections created by Rayleigh using the absolute control of a top-tier fighter over his own body, signals so deceptive they were almost impossible to distinguish.
Every mistake ended with the bamboo sword landing squarely on Bullet.
Not heavy, but plenty painful.
Yet after each flash of pain, Bullet's perception sharpened a little more.
He began learning to judge truth and lies from a deeper layer, from the very flow of energy itself.
"Stop."
Rayleigh lowered the sword.
Bullet opened his eyes. The bruises on his body were already fading at a speed visible to the naked eye.
His devouring ability was passively repairing the damage, and at the same time it was absorbing and digesting the "experience" of being struck, converting it into growth in his senses.
"Training ends here for today," Rayleigh said.
"Your Observation's direction is clear now: parsing and computation."
"What you need to do next is expand your perception range, increase calculation speed, and accumulate combat data."
He paused, then added, "And, try combining this Observation with your ability."
"Combine it?"
Bullet, Douglas Bullet, frowned slightly.
"If you can use Observation to parse an opponent's techniques and energy flow…"
"Then in theory, you can also specifically devour their techniques during battle."
A gleam flashed in Rayleigh's eyes.
"For example, your opponent is about to unleash a big move that passes through three energy convergence points."
"If you can devour one of those nodes before the technique fully forms…"
Bullet's eyes lit up.
That would mean he would not only predict an opponent's move, he could directly dismantle it.
"But that is an advanced application, and you cannot do it yet."
Rayleigh doused him with a bucket of cold water.
"Build the foundation first."
"Starting tomorrow, gravity training and Observation training will alternate."
"When you are able to flawlessly predict my continuous attacks at seventy percent speed under ten times gravity, then we will talk about the next step."
"Understood."
...
That night, Bullet lay on his hammock, not falling asleep right away.
In his mind he replayed the entire day's training, carving every move Rayleigh made, every change in his breathing, every shift in energy flow into the depths of his memory.
At the same time, he tried to construct a "battle model" in his consciousness.
It was difficult, but the high speed learning that came with his devouring ability was kicking in.
Outside the porthole, a meteor streaked across the night sky of the New World.
Bullet opened his eyes and looked down at his own hands.
This breakthrough in Observation had filled in another crucial piece of his combat system.
For defense, he had Black-Scale Armament. For offense, he had dragon claws and black flame. For perception, he now had parsing type Observation.
What was still missing?
Perhaps, only the final piece.
The true awakening of Conqueror's Haki, and the fusion of all three colors.
But that would be a matter for the future.
Right now, what he had to do was fully digest everything he had learned today.
Bullet closed his eyes again and sank into deep meditation.
In the depths of his consciousness, a world of battle formed from countless lines and streams of data was slowly taking shape.