As Siena stood above me after the spar, she narrowed her eyes.
"Oi."
I looked up.
"What happened to you?"
I blinked.
"What do you mean?"
She rested the sparring spear on her shoulder.
"I can feel it."
"The power behind your spear has increased."
"Your attacks are more focused."
"And more importantly…"
She paused.
"It feels like you're trying to kill someone."
My heart skipped a beat.
She had noticed.
Not Beast Breathing itself—
but the change it had caused.
For a moment, I considered telling her.
Then I immediately discarded the idea.
Revealing everything at once was a bad habit.
"Nothing happened," I said.
"Just practice."
Siena snorted.
"Sure."
Then she pointed the spear at me.
"So?"
"What now?"
"One more round," I replied immediately.
A grin spread across her face.
"Hah!"
"That's what I wanted to hear."
The next spar ended exactly the same.
I lost.
Badly.
The third spar ended the same way.
And the fourth.
Every time I came up with a plan—
Siena destroyed it.
Sometimes she countered directly.
Sometimes she used methods that made absolutely no sense.
Methods I would never have considered.
After throwing me onto the ground for the third time, she finally pointed her spear at me.
"Brat."
"What are you building?"
I blinked.
"What?"
"A house?"
"A fortress?"
She rolled her eyes.
"You plan every fight from beginning to end."
"That part is good."
"But what happens when your opponent refuses to follow your plan?"
I stayed silent.
Siena continued.
"You think stronger or smarter opponents are going to stand there and do exactly what you predicted?"
"Fights aren't puzzles."
"They're chaos."
She tossed the sparring spear aside.
"Try mixing in something unexpected."
"Roll on the ground."
"Throw dirt."
"Use your head."
"Adapt."
"Right now you're fighting like a tool."
I frowned.
"A tool?"
"Big plan."
"Big swing."
"Big disappointment."
Duracal laughed from the side.
I felt personally attacked.
"This time, no weapons," Siena said.
"Hand-to-hand."
Immediately, I stood up.
Siena's close-combat style relied heavily on elbows, knees, and body movement.
The moment the spar started, she lowered her body and rushed toward me.
As she entered range, her elbow shot toward my abdomen.
I stepped backward instantly.
But that was exactly what she wanted.
The elbow stopped midway.
Her fist rose upward.
A clean strike aimed at my chin.
I barely moved my head in time.
Siena grinned.
"Try thinking now."
The challenge irritated me.
So I rushed forward.
Not because I had a plan.
Not because I had calculated anything.
I simply wanted to hit her.
For once.
Just once.
I threw a barrage of punches.
Siena moved her head calmly, letting every strike miss by inches.
I attempted a low kick toward her knee.
She pulled her leg back effortlessly.
Then she countered with a punch.
But this time—
something changed.
Instead of retreating, I twisted my body.
Her fist passed beside me.
I stepped inward and drove my elbow toward her ribs.
Siena reacted instantly.
Her palm intercepted the strike.
But in doing so, both her hands became occupied.
One controlling my arm.
The other redirecting my elbow.
An opening appeared.
Without thinking—
I drove my knee upward with all my strength.
Thud.
The strike landed cleanly against her stomach.
For the first time all day—
Siena stepped backward.
One step.
Her hand instinctively moved toward the spot I had struck.
Her body tightened slightly.
Then she looked up.
And smiled.
"Kid."
"You finally stopped thinking."
After that—
I didn't land a single hit.
Not one.
Siena beat me mercilessly.
Every attempt was blocked.
Countered.
Or punished.
By the time she finished, I was lying flat on my back staring at the sky.
Again.
A short distance away, Siena sat beside Duracal.
I remained on the ground, too tired to move.
"What happened to that kid?" Siena asked seriously.
Duracal shrugged.
"How should I know?"
"All I know is that he went out, hunted some lizardmen, came back, and suddenly became like this."
"You don't understand," Siena said.
"The changes aren't normal."
"His movements have improved."
"His power has increased."
"And there's something else."
She frowned.
"It feels like he's constantly in pain."
Duracal's expression stiffened slightly.
"Pain?"
"You think a mercenary can't recognize it?"
Siena asked.
"He fights like someone whose body hurts every second."
She glanced toward me.
"And yet he keeps pushing forward."
Duracal remained silent for a few moments.
Then he sighed.
"Let the kid rest."
Siena leaned back.
"Did you hear the news?"
"The lizardman nest was confirmed."
Duracal nodded.
"I heard."
Siena's expression turned serious.
"Years ago, finding a nest wasn't unusual."
"But now?"
"The peaceful years have made people complacent."
"The weak become weaker."
"And eventually that weakness creates problems for everyone."
Her gaze shifted toward me again.
"But that kid…"
"What exactly is he chasing?"
"His breathing technique isn't ordinary."
"He pursues strength like a madman."
"And for some reason…"
Her eyes narrowed.
"Death always seems close to him."
Duracal looked at me for a long moment.
Then quietly answered:
"Maybe that's exactly why he's running."