I stared at the note silently before taking a slow breath.
Then I stood.
The circulation immediately destabilized the moment I moved. Some areas sped up while others slowed painfully. It felt like my insides were being stretched apart.
Still… I kept going.
I had already taken my first step.
There was no turning back now.
⸻
At first, even walking felt like absolute hell.
Every shift of my weight sent my ki spiraling out of rhythm, forcing me to constantly adjust it just to keep from collapsing. It wasn't just movement anymore—it was control over my own damn body and energy at the same time.
If I fucked up, everything broke.
So I moved carefully.
Slow. Controlled. Grinding through it.
Hours passed like that. I couldn't even tell when day or night changed anymore. The cave became my entire world, and Master had completely vanished without a trace.
But his note kept replaying in my head.
Keep circulating. Even while moving.
So I did.
Again.
And again.
Every mistake hurt like hell. Every correction burned through my body like fire under my skin. But little by little, the chaos inside me stopped feeling random.
It started forming patterns I could actually recognize.
Not control yet—but recognize.
And that alone felt like progress.
⸻
Days blurred together.
Master didn't come back. Food just appeared at the edge of the cave like clockwork—morning and night. No explanation. No warning. No damn words at all.
Just expectation.
So I trained.
Walking stopped being impossible. Then it became tolerable. Then I could finally stand and circulate without everything instantly collapsing.
Small movements still fucked everything up—but not as bad as before.
Still painful. Still exhausting. But no longer impossible.
⸻
I didn't realize how long it had been until Master finally returned.
He didn't announce himself. I only noticed him when his shadow crossed the cave entrance.
He placed something in front of me.
A book.
"Step of the Lightning God."
I looked up at him.
"Again?" I muttered.
He didn't respond.
"Read it," he said flatly.
I opened it.
Still unreadable. Still nonsense. Still those damn diagrams that looked like someone tried to draw movement mid-lightning strike.
I exhaled through my nose.
"Master… I can't read this shit."
He stared at me for a long moment.
Then sighed.
"Do I truly need to teach you how to read as well? Have you no shame?"
I gave a tired shrug.
"I'm not from here."
That made him pause.
Longer this time.
"…Right," he muttered. "Of course you're not."
⸻
The next two days weren't physical training.
They were pure frustration.
Master read the entire thing out loud while I copied it word for word into my language.
At first it felt pointless as hell.
But slowly, it stopped being random symbols.
It became structure. Timing. Flow.
Something I could actually work with.
When we finished, Master finally demonstrated the movements himself.
They were nothing like mine.
Fast. Precise. Controlled.
Like lightning being forced into discipline instead of chaos.
I tried to copy him immediately.
And immediately ate shit.
My body couldn't keep up. My ki circulation would destabilize every time I tried to speed up.
Still, I kept going.
Fall. Get up. Repeat.
Over and over.
⸻
Five days passed.
Then I could finally perform the movements individually.
Not well. Not clean. But correctly.
The real problem was linking them together.
Every transition felt like slamming into a wall inside my own body. My ki would stutter, break rhythm, and force me to reset.
I collapsed onto my back after another failed attempt, breathing hard.
"I guess there are muscles even Grandpa never thought to train…" I muttered.