Altaïr really wanted to grab Sajji by the scruff and yank his cheeks.
But in the end, he just sighed and admitted his shortcomings. "You're right. I still need much more practice and refinement."
"Incidentally, when Isis's mother improved and mastered the Tempered Spirit Blade, she was about the same age as you are now."
That remark from Amos truly hit Altaïr hard.
On one side was someone who had independently refined sword techniques passed down through the ages. On the other was himself, swordsmanship notes in hand, still studying and still unable to figure things out. Was the gap really that vast?
He let Altaïr wrestle with it for a few seconds, allowing him to thoroughly experience "the helplessness of facing a true genius." Only then did Amos smile and explain:
"Alright, it wasn't actually that dramatic. The improvement of the Tempered Spirit Blade was mainly Master Fugen's doing. Back then, Isis's mother mostly just offered some new ideas. Creating the Crimson Blade Slash means you stand no lower than she did.
"I'm saying this only so you don't grow complacent.
"History is full of geniuses. People with greater natural talent than yours do exist. Don't fall into the presumptuous illusion that 'no matter what sword technique it is, I can just glance at it and learn it.'"
Altaïr paused, momentarily stunned. Then he placed both hands on his knees and bowed his head low. "Thank you for the reminder. I'll remember it, Master Amos."
Altaïr's response satisfied Amos. The old man stood, handed the wooden sword he had just put away back to Altaïr, and picked up one himself. "You say you can't grasp the essence. Come on, first let me see what you've made of the Tempered Spirit Blade in practice."
Before he had finished speaking, Amos drove strength into his legs. His entire body closed the gap in an instant, the heavy wooden sword made of Yukumo Wood cleaving straight down at Altaïr's head.
Prepared, Altaïr immediately raised his sword with both hands, parrying with the section of the blade near the guard. Then, as his hands flipped, the blade followed; the wooden sword issued a piercing whistle as it slashed straight down in a heavy, vertical chop.
Amos sidestepped Altaïr's Counter Overhead Slash, casually raising his sword to pin the tip of Altaïr's blade against the ground. "Alright, that's far enough. I've identified your problem."
Altaïr hurriedly withdrew his sword, stood straight, and pulled out the small notepad he always kept on him, ready to write.
"You said you wanted to learn the Tempered Spirit Blade to compensate for your shortcomings in Defense. Correct?"
"Exactly."
"Then why was that parry so light and casual, while your counter-slash was loaded with heavy momentum?" Amos let out a "Heh." "Subconsciously, you still practice this move as a countermove, or even as an attack, don't you?
"'The best defense is a good offense,' is that it?"
Altaïr opened his mouth, finally realizing where his own problem lay.
"You don't need to practice the counter portion. Or just drill it on your own time later when you're free; it won't pose any difficulty for you.
"The crux lies in the parrying guard. You've only managed a crude imitation of its form. How to focus your spirit, how to channel your Spirit Gauge, how to exert explosive force in the instant you neutralize an attack. You don't truly understand any of it.
"Blocking a strike from this old man's wooden sword already looks like a struggle for you, and you still delude yourself into thinking you can defend against Large Monster attacks?"
"Understood." Altaïr obediently lowered his head, acknowledging the lesson.
"You'll be staying in Dundorma for a while on this trip, right? Stay at home. Come to the Training Area every day to practice the sword. With your talent in swordsmanship, a week to half a month should be enough to lay the foundation for the parrying guard. After that, you'll just have to polish it through real combat."
"Tempered Spirit Blade may look like a simple move, but its ceiling is extremely high. When your strength grows further down the line, you may even have the chance to train in the full version of Critical Juncture."
"Taken to the extreme, that technique can even cleave through a dragon's breath attack."
Altaïr couldn't help but feel a surge of yearning, which was quickly followed by a prick of irritation. Not counting travel time there and back, he could stay in Dundorma for ten more days at most.
Tomorrow there was the Hunter's Guild leadership inquiry, and after that, he had promised Senior Francesca to do a demonstration at the training camp, cutting into the time he could spend training under Master Amos.
"What, you don't want to train?" Noticing Altaïr's conflicted expression, Amos's face darkened.
"No, it's not that." Altaïr had no choice but to briefly explain the two matters.
A trace of surprise crept into Amos's gaze as he looked at Altaïr.
The training camp business wasn't a big deal. Inviting outstanding Hunters and retired Hunters to give demonstrations at the training camp was a common occurrence. Even he himself was invited to go every so often.
But this talk of a Hunter's Guild leadership inquiry... it seemed the Professor had deliberately kept things vague. This was clearly a summons by name from His Immenseness himself.
And no wonder. With the boy's talent and the strength he'd displayed so far, it was only natural for him to enter His Immenseness's notice.
In truth, over a year ago, when Altaïr and Isis had made a name for themselves in the Arena, their names should already have crossed His Immenseness's desk.
It was just that the rank of a 3-star Hunter was simply too low. So what if a seventeen- or eighteen-year-old could hunt a Yian Kut-Ku or Khezu? In His Immenseness's eyes, that still counted as child's play.
But now Altaïr was already 4★, and during the Estrellian Incident, he had more than once demonstrated strength on par with a 5★ hunter.
Calling him a "powerhouse" would still be somewhat premature, but he was no longer merely a "genius." He had turned that talent into strength and truly become one of those Hunters who could be called "elite."
After pondering in silence for a few seconds, Amos came to a judgment similar to the Professor's.
He did not directly reveal the matter of His Immenseness, but instead offered a few words of caution from the perspective of an elder. "It's possible... that someone may ask you questions beyond the scope of the Estrellian Incident.
"The one thing you must engrave firmly in your mind is that, for Hunters like us, wealth, fame, and honor are all secondary.
"Only strength. Only strength is truly your own, and no matter how much you have, it will never be too much.
"Keep your heart steady, hold firmly to the reason that led you to become a Hunter in the first place, and don't let external things or praise dazzle your eyes."
Hearing this, Altaïr's brow furrowed slightly. From the way Master Amos spoke, it was clear he knew something. Connecting this with the Professor's somewhat evasive attitude, a vague suspicion began to form in his mind.
After a brief silence, he once again lowered his head and bowed slightly. "I'll remember, Master Amos. To be honest, right now, aside from training in Tempered Spirit Blade, I can hardly muster any interest in anything else."
Hearing this, a smile returned to Amos's stern face.
"Good. That's how it should be."
—--
The next day, he spent the entire morning training in the basement Training Area.
Having just begun to understand the parrying guard, Altaïr desperately wanted to ride this momentum and continue training, but unfortunately, time was running short. Under Amos's urging, he reluctantly took a shower, put on the Armor and took up the weapon that served as a Hunter's formal attire, and hurried toward the City Core Area where Dundorma's Guild Hall was located.
—--
When he arrived at the Guild Hall's entrance, the Guild Knight Rosso, who had once "arrested" him, breathed a long sigh of relief and strode over to stand before him. "I've been looking everywhere for you. Come with me, quickly."
As he spoke, he took the lead with brisk steps, and Altaïr quickened his pace to keep up.
"You didn't stay at the Guild Hall last night?" Rosso asked as they walked.
"No, I stayed at my teacher's home," Altaïr answered offhandedly.
He had originally planned to stay at the Guild Hall last night. After all, Isis hadn't returned yet, and it felt a bit strange for him, an outsider, to stay at Isis's house.
But Amos had told him that it wasn't just Isis's home; it was his home too. There was nothing strange about a student lodging at his teacher's house, and it was also convenient for training.
The convenience for training had swayed Altaïr, and in the end, he stayed.
"Teacher? You mean Senior Karin?"
"No, the teacher instructing me in Long Sword techniques." Altaïr didn't elaborate, instead turning the question back on the other man. "Where are we heading? Aren't we supposed to be questioned inside the Guild Hall?"
The Dundorma Guild Hall was massive in scale. Besides the famous People's Tavern on the ground floor, it also served as the Hunter's Guild headquarters.
Rosso glanced back at him with some surprise. "The Professor didn't tell you? It's His Immenseness who has summoned you. We're going to the Elder Hall right now."
"His Immenseness..."
As one of the Guild's original founders and its current overseer, the name of His Immenseness was naturally not unfamiliar to Altaïr.
He had guessed that he had come to the attention of certain higher-ups in the Guild, but he hadn't expected it to be the legendary His Immenseness. A wave of nervousness inevitably rose in his heart.
But immediately after, he recalled what Master Amos had reminded him of the day before, and his anxious heart gradually settled.
"By the way, the weapon His Immenseness is renowned for wielding, it's the Long Sword, right?"
"Huh? Oh, yes, it is." The question struck Rosso as a bit baffling, but he nodded and answered anyway.
"May I ask him for guidance in Long Sword techniques?"
"Don't you dare!"
(Translated by yourtl.app)