Today marked the beginning of his training.
Until now, Jin had relied solely on his innate ability—Mathematician. With its guidance, he had always seen through battle with logic and calculation. But it had never taught him how to move. How to fight. Not truly. He never needed.
That was about to change.
For the first time, Jin would begin learning Battle Styles.
Unlike Spiritual Arts, of which he had a fair grasp, Battle Styles remained largely unknown to him. And so, as they stood upon the stone courtyard beneath the rising sun, Jin turned to his master.
"What exactly are Battle Styles?" he asked. "And why should I even bother learning them when I can just use Arts?"
Albedo offered a faint smile, as if expecting the question.
"A valid doubt," he said. "One asked by many who walk the path of power."
The master stepped forward, drawing a small line in the dust with the tip of his finger.
"Spiritual Arts," he began, "are born from the second nature of spiritual energy—the power to transform, project, and shape. They bend the spiritual energy to your will. But Battle Styles… are something else entirely."
He stood and raised his hand.
"They draw upon the first nature of spiritual energy—the power to reinforce, to harden, to amplify. Spirit Coating. The essence of Battle Styles lies not in changing the spiritual energy… but in pushing your body to its absolute limits."
Jin listened, intrigued.
"Though most Awakened use spiritual energy to enhance their forms, Battle Styles are more than mere reinforcement. They are—at their core—disciplines of combat. Techniques refined over centuries, passed down through schools, families, and ancient warrior clans. Each style focuses on a different principle: power, speed, deception, control."
Albedo motioned toward Jin's katana.
"Some styles revolve around the blade. Others use fists, or chains, or even footwork alone. There are those that focus on overwhelming speed, some on brute force, and others that are like flowing water—endlessly adaptive."
He stepped back and folded his arms.
"In essence, Battle Styles are the way one fights. The art of violence made efficient. Where Spiritual Arts require comprehension, Battle Styles demand repetition, discipline, and instinct. You practice them until your body responds without thought—until they become your second nature."
Jin's brow furrowed.
"Then why didn't I learn them before? Why was I never taught?"
"You never needed to," Albedo said simply. "Mathematician made you untouchable. But now that it's gone—"
His words trailed off.
Now, Jin needed a foundation. A real one.
Albedo continued.
"Battle Styles were born in the era of extinction, over a millennium ago—when mankind teetered on the edge of annihilation, facing creatures born of nightmare. Back then, raw power wasn't enough. Spiritual Arts alone couldn't save us. And so, warriors developed styles—ways of fighting that pushed their limits and let them stand toe-to-toe with monsters."
His eyes hardened.
"They were never meant to be beautiful. They were meant to kill. And over time, those killing arts evolved. New styles emerged—not just to slay monsters, but to slay each other. And so, counter-styles were born. And then counter-counters. A never-ending dance of violence."
He looked directly at Jin now.
"In this age, Battle Styles are as vital as breath. An Awakened trained in them will always outmatch one who fights without form."
Albedo's voice grew quiet—steady and sure.
"Remember this, Jin. The world may favor power, but it is skill that survives. Always."
After his general explanation of Battle Styles, Albedo raised his hand.
With a faint shimmer of spiritual energy, a wooden sword materialized in his grasp.
"Let's start with a style that uses the sword as its primary weapon," he said calmly.
He stepped forward, the blade resting gently at his side, and continued.
"You don't need to channel spiritual energy for this. Battle Styles teach you how to move, how to strike, how to guard. They are not about power, but precision. Flow. Discipline."
Albedo shifted his stance.
"I'll demonstrate a style called Leonox Battle Style—one of the three foundational forms taught by ORDER to all new Awakened."
He began to move.
His body flowed like water, each step measured, each strike deliberate. The sword in his hand sliced through the air—not with brute strength, but with controlled grace. The strikes came in sharp arcs, weaving offense and defense together with effortless fluidity.
It was immediately clear: this style had been forged for fighting humans.
Its movements were compact and efficient. Swift footwork. Smooth counters. Precision over power.
After a few moments, Albedo stopped, lowering the sword.
"This style balances offense and defense through speed and adaptability," he said. "It's designed to overwhelm your opponent before they can react—and respond fluidly if they do. Every Awakened is required to learn it. During the exam, you'll be expected to perform this style exactly as taught."
"I see," Jin replied, nodding slightly.
Albedo turned, gesturing to the six-armed golem standing silently nearby.
"This golem is programmed to use Leonox Style. Your task is to face it—using the same techniques."
Jin stepped forward. "Very well."
For a brief moment, he had wondered if Mira would be his sparring partner. But she had already left after their earlier exchange. Now, it was only him—and the golem.
With Albedo's explanation still echoing in his mind, Jin finally grasped what Battle Styles truly were.
They weren't just movements. They were a method. A path. And despite his lack of experience, he found the concept… practical. Grounded. Valuable.
He tightened his grip around the wooden sword.
It was his first time holding one properly. First time facing an opponent not with abilities alone—but with technique.
Fortunately, Albedo remained nearby, offering guidance with a quiet word or subtle nod when needed.
And so began Jin's training—grueling, merciless, and soaked in sweat. A trial not of power, but of perseverance. Each swing, each step, burned into his muscles as the sun crept across the sky.
His journey into the art of battle had begun.
***
Meanwhile, Jay was engrossed in his own training under the sharp guidance of Miss Mira. As always, Luke lingered nearby, acting as moral support—a role he took surprisingly seriously.
Over the past ten days, something unexpected had happened: Jay and Luke had grown close. They even tried to grow closer to Jin, but his cold and distant demeanor made it difficult.
What was more astonishing than their budding friendship, however, was Jay's transformation.
The once painfully shy boy now spoke freely, even around Miss Mira. Though he had initially stammered and fumbled in her presence, her calm authority and nurturing approach had gradually drawn him out of his shell.
Since the previous night, Jay had been immersed in spiritual energy control training—a vital component of spiritual arts. Miss Mira, firm but compassionate, had proven to be an excellent instructor, while Luke remained a steady presence, always encouraging.
"Spiritual energy control is the backbone of every spiritual art," Mira had said earlier, arms folded as she observed Jay's clumsy efforts. "You cannot invoke a technique without mastering this first step."
Spiritual energy was a rare and unique force, accessible only to those who had completed the formation of their Triangle of Existence. It was born from the soul and traveled throughout the body via intangible conduits known as spirit veins—not physical structures, but mystical pathways that governed the movement of energy.
These veins followed strict laws. Breaking them often meant irreversible damage—or death.
The most critical rule? The spiritual flow must always circulate in a clockwise direction. When done correctly, it would manifest as a soft, blue vapor streaming from the body.
Jay, however, was struggling.
His natural talent for close combat—if it could even be called that—was better left unspoken. As he fumbled again, the blue energy stuttering and breaking apart mid-flow, Mira let out a tired sigh.
"It looks like your fundamentals are all over the place," she said, crossing her arms with an edge of frustration.
Luke tilted his head, visibly surprised. "Didn't you work with a team of active Awakened for two years?"
At the mention of his past, Jay's expression darkened. Mira quickly picked up on it and whispered discreetly into Luke's ear, "Hey... don't bring that up."
Luke blinked. "Oh—right. Sorry."
A heavy silence followed, broken only by the distant sound of Jin's training and the low hum of energy around them. Then, Jay finally spoke, his voice quiet but steady.
"I didn't really learn much about spiritualism back then. My mother died giving birth to me, and my father and sister were killed in an accident. I survived...no died and I Awakened after that. But I was traumatized for a long time. The people who took me in... they loved me, treated me like family. But they didn't want me to get involved in spiritual arts. They only taught me enough to defend myself."
He paused, staring at the ground.
"I asked them to train me properly—many times. I wanted to be strong like them. But they always said the same thing: that they would protect me. That I didn't need to stain my hands. And I get it. It was their way of showing love... so I stopped asking."
Mira and Luke exchanged glances, silent and thoughtful.
Then Mira stepped forward, her voice softer than before.
"Don't worry about that, kid. We'll start from the very basics. I'll teach you properly."