Special Training Begins

Moonlight Tundra. Morning light filtered through the glowing canopy, casting mottled shadows across a clearing in the forest.

The pool lay deep within the dense woods in a relatively open area. Its surface was still as a mirror, reflecting the mosses and ferns around it that gave off a faint, shimmering blue glow.

Biscuit stood by the pool and bent down to stir the surface with a finger. Ripples spread outward, startling several phosphorescent insects into flight.

"There's a kind of fish in this pool called the Twin-Wing Shuttlefish."

She straightened up and smiled at Leo.

"Go down there and catch one. No Nen."

Leo rolled his shoulders and looked toward the crystal-clear water.

"What's so special about this fish?"

"It's incredibly fast and agile—"

Biscuit paused, her smile widening.

"—and incredibly delicious! Get going!"

Leo asked no more questions. He took off his shirt, shoes, and socks, drew a deep breath, and plunged into the water.

Splash—

Water sprayed everywhere, and coolness instantly enveloped his body.

The pool was deeper than it looked. Leo had to dive seven or eight meters before reaching the bottom.

Sunlight filtered through the surface, casting shifting patches of light across the floor. Visibility was excellent.

The water was astonishingly clear.

Fine white gravel carpeted the bottom, dotted here and there with rocks covered in moss.

Glowing algae clung to aquatic plants and stones, bathing the depths in a dim blue world.

Leo hovered in the middle of the water, holding his breath as he observed.

Half a minute later, he spotted his targets beside a dense patch of aquatic grass to his left—three silvery-white fish.

Each was about thirty centimeters long, with a perfectly streamlined body. Most peculiar of all, each had a pair of transparent, membrane-like fins on either side of its body, gently swaying in the water.

These were the Twin-Wing Shuttlefish.

Leo adjusted his posture and slowly approached.

He kept his movements as small as possible, careful not to startle the creatures, which looked highly alert.

One meter away.

Leo suddenly kicked off, shooting forward like an arrow. His right hand spread wide as he reached for the nearest fish—

Just as his fingertips were about to touch its body, the Dartfish gave a slight shudder.

It vanished.

No, it had not vanished—it was simply too fast, leaving behind a silvery afterimage in the water.

Leo had not even seen its movement clearly. He only felt the impact of the violently churned current.

His brow rose as he swiftly turned his head.

The Dartfish had appeared three meters to his left, lazily waving its side fins as if that explosive burst had never happened.

The other two fish had also swum farther away, seemingly mocking this clumsy predator in silence.

Leo turned and kicked off again.

This time, he had learned his lesson. Rather than trying to close in at maximum speed, he approached at a steadier pace, his eyes locked tightly on the target and every muscle in his body tensed, ready for any sudden change of direction.

The Dartfish seemed to sense his intentions.

When Leo came within two meters, its tail flicked lightly, and it slid away diagonally, moving as gracefully as if it were dancing underwater.

Leo immediately adjusted course and accelerated after it.

Over the next two minutes, a chase played out on the bottom of the pool.

Leo tried approaching from every angle, but each time, he fell just short.

The Dartfish displayed astonishing mobility—accelerating instantly to speeds too fast for the naked eye to follow, stopping abruptly, changing direction, sliding sideways... every movement flowed seamlessly into the next without the slightest warning.

What troubled Leo most was that these fish seemed able to predict his movements.

Whenever he changed tactics, they reacted in advance, weaving through the water with effortless ease as though they were toying with him.

But Leo did not lose heart.

He gradually emptied his mind, no longer deliberately planning his movements, instead letting his body react on instinct.

His eyes followed the fish's trajectories while his brain raced, trying to find a pattern amid countless failures.

Ten minutes later, a burning sensation rose in his lungs.

Leo shot upward, burst through the surface, and gulped down fresh air.

Biscuit sat on a flat stone by the shore, holding that fashion magazine. She only looked up when she heard the commotion.

"Didn't catch one?"

She asked with a smile, her tone as casual as if they were discussing the weather.

"Then you'd better work harder. Otherwise, lunch today... won't have anything on the table."

Leo took several deep breaths, then dived back down.

This time, he changed strategies.

Rather than pursuing them directly, he floated in the center of the pool and quietly observed the three Dartfish's behavior patterns.

He discovered that the fish did not move at high speed constantly. They would also swim slowly, gathering together from time to time as if communicating.

But the moment danger approached, they could accelerate from a standstill to their limit within 0.1 seconds.

The key is timing...

Leo thought to himself.

I need to strike the instant they let their guard down, and I have to predict the direction they might flee in.

His second attempt began.

Leo waited patiently for five minutes before the three fish finally gathered beside a rock.

He slowly approached, closing the distance to three meters, and then—

Burst!

This time, he did not charge straight at his target. Instead, he predicted the opening to the right where the school was most likely to flee, intercepting from the front-right the moment he launched himself.

Sure enough, the fish in the middle darted sharply to the right the instant it was startled!

Leo grabbed at that patch of water—

He touched it!

But the sensation was wrong. He had caught not the fish's body, but its tail.

The Dartfish struggled violently. Its slippery scales and astonishing strength allowed it to break free in an instant, leaving only several silver scales in Leo's palm.

Still too slow...

Leo watched as the startled fish quickly hid among the aquatic grass, yet a flicker of excitement rose in his heart.

At least he had touched it.

Over the next hour, Leo repeated the cycle of touching and pursuing.

Sometimes he could touch the fish's body. More often, he could not touch it at all.

His stamina was draining rapidly.

Moving underwater already consumed more energy than moving on land. Combined with the intense pursuit and frequent breath-holding dives, Leo was already noticeably exhausted by around ten in the morning.

At noon, Leo swam ashore completely spent and collapsed by the bank, his chest heaving violently.

Biscuit put away her magazine, walked over, and crouched beside him.

"Well? How does it feel?"

"...The resistance in the water is too great."

Leo panted, his voice somewhat muffled.

"That fish is absurdly agile. I can't react at all to its sudden stops and changes of direction at high speed."

Biscuit nodded, her expression turning unusually serious.

"That's the point of training. On land, your speed and reactions already surpass those of most people. But in water, the environment changes and the resistance increases. That's how you can improve further."

She stood and clapped her hands.

"That's enough training for this morning. Rest for half an hour, then we'll begin another special training session."

Half an hour later, Biscuit brought Leo to a patch of wasteland on the edge of Moonlight Tundra.

This place was completely different from the glowing forest—the earth was cracked and barren, with only scattered gravel and exposed bedrock.

Sunlight poured down without obstruction, baking the ground until it was scorching hot.

Biscuit bent down, picked up a fist-sized stone, and weighed it in her hand.

"Next is reaction training."

She pointed at the open stretch of ground ahead, roughly fifty meters across, and spoke to Leo.

"You need to avoid my attacks as best you can—and at the same time, watch for numbers that may appear on my finger. The instant you see one, shout it out."

Leo immediately understood. He gathered his aura and activated "Gyo," concentrating his aura intensely in his eyes.

His vision instantly became clearer.

He could see the aura flowing around Biscuit's body. Then he noticed the tip of the raised index finger on her right hand—

A distinct number "5" appeared there, formed from aura and glowing faintly.

"Five!" Leo shouted immediately.

"Too slow."

Biscuit's voice turned cold.

The number on her finger dispersed, replaced by a stern gaze.

"From the moment I saw you use 'Gyo' to the moment you called out the number, 1.2 seconds passed. In a real battle, 0.5 seconds is enough to decide the outcome."

She pointed at the ground.

"Go. Do a thousand push-ups. Now."

Leo did not argue. He dropped to the ground and began.

The cracked earth was rough and scorching. The instant his palms pressed against it, a stinging pain shot through them.

But his form was proper and his pace steady, one after another.

Biscuit watched from the side and nodded to herself.

No complaints, no slacking. His discipline really was quite good.

After finishing a thousand push-ups, he stood and faced Biscuit again.

"Pay attention this time."

Biscuit raised her hand again, but the number did not appear immediately.

Leo maintained "Gyo," staring fixedly at her finger while slightly lowering his body into a stance ready to dodge at any moment.

"Begin."

The instant the word left her mouth, Biscuit swung her left hand!

The stone shot out at astonishing speed, aimed directly at Leo's left shoulder!

Leo twisted aside. The stone grazed the edge of his clothes and slammed into a rock wall in the distance, leaving a shallow crater.

At the very moment he dodged, the number "3" appeared on Biscuit's right index finger.

"Three!"

His reaction had improved considerably this time, but Biscuit had already thrown a second stone.

The training had officially begun.

Over the next hour, Leo darted and maneuvered across the open field, dodging stone attacks coming from every direction.

Biscuit's throws followed no pattern whatsoever—sometimes she attacked in rapid succession, sometimes she paused for several seconds; sometimes she targeted his torso, sometimes his lower body; sometimes the stones came at extreme speed, while other times she deliberately slowed them down to disrupt his rhythm.

Meanwhile, numbers appeared randomly on her right hand, remaining visible for anywhere from one second to 0.3 seconds.

Leo had to split his focus: he needed to judge the stones' trajectories and dodge them while also using "Gyo" to keep watch over the changes in her finger.

At first, Leo could barely manage.

But as Biscuit gradually increased the speed and force of her throws, things began to deteriorate.

Bang!

A stone struck Leo in the right ribs. He gave a muffled grunt and staggered back two steps.

Biscuit controlled her strength with extraordinary precision—enough to cause pain and bruising, but not fractures or serious internal injuries.

"Two!" Leo gritted his teeth and shouted the number he had just seen.

"Too slow. A thousand push-ups."

Biscuit's voice held no emotion.

Leo dropped down and began again.

Sweat dripped onto the burning ground and evaporated instantly.

The training continued.

Stones came raining down.

More and more red welts and bruises appeared across Leo's body: his shoulders, arms, thighs, sides of his abdomen... every hit made him suck in a sharp breath from the pain.

But he did not stop.

Part of his attention remained fixed on Biscuit's finger at all times, while his brain continued racing through the pain, calculating the stones' trajectories and the timing of the numbers' appearance.

Bang! Another blow struck his left shoulder blade.

"Seven!"

"Correct. Keep going."

Three hours later, Leo could barely remain standing.

His whole body was covered in bruises, and he breathed like a broken bellows.

Yet he still stood in the middle of the field, his eyes still fixed on Biscuit's finger.

Biscuit finally stopped throwing stones.

She walked up to Leo and looked at the young man, who was covered in injuries yet still standing tall.

"We'll stop here for today."

For once, she showed a gentle smile.

"You can endure more than I expected."

Over the next half month, Leo's life settled into a fixed routine:

At dawn, he chased Twin-Wing Shuttlefish in the pool, training his endurance and reaction speed.

At noon, after a brief rest, he underwent dual training in evasion and observation on the wasteland.

At night, under Biscuit's guidance, he practiced the basics of Nen, focusing on strengthening its endurance and refining his control.

Every day was a test of both physical and mental limits.

But his progress gradually began to show.

On the seventh day, Leo successfully caught a Dartfish for the first time—though it broke free after only a second, it was still a milestone.

On the tenth day, he could chase fish underwater for twenty consecutive minutes without surfacing for air, and his understanding of their movement patterns deepened.

On the twelfth day, during reaction training, he dodged Biscuit's stone attacks seventeen times in a row while accurately calling out every number.

On the fifteenth day, in the afternoon.

Leo floated quietly in the pool.

The Dartfish swam around him, seemingly having grown accustomed to this relentless pursuer.

Leo moved.

His movements were no longer as swift as before. Instead, they seemed more composed.

His body traced a graceful arc through the water, and his right hand reached out as if casually—

Grasping the gills of the middle fish with perfect precision.

The Dartfish struggled violently, its transparent side fins flapping frantically, but Leo's fingers were like iron pincers, utterly unmoving.

Ten seconds later, the fish gave up resisting and calmed down.

Leo surfaced and held up the Dartfish, which was still faintly flicking its tail, toward the shore.

Biscuit put down her magazine, carefully examined the fish, then looked at Leo and nodded in satisfaction.

"Not bad. Reaching this level in half a month counts as passing."

She took the fish and gently stroked its scales.

"Release it."

Leo froze for a moment, but he still did as she said.

Once it entered the water, the fish swiftly swam away and vanished beneath the surface.

"Then."

Biscuit pointed at the weighted equipment by the shore.

"Put that on, dive back down, and catch that fish again."

The faint joy that had just risen in Leo's heart instantly froze.

He looked at Biscuit, confirmed that she was serious, and could only give a wry smile as he walked toward the hundred-kilogram set of equipment.

Once he had put it on, he entered the water again.

The familiar heaviness enveloped his entire body, making every movement several times more strenuous than before.

The underwater environment that had felt manageable just moments ago now became exceptionally difficult.

The Dartfish he had released seemed to have gotten smarter, hiding in the cracks between the rocks and refusing to come out.

It took Leo half an hour to force it out of its hiding place again, and then a new round of pursuit began.

One month later.

By the pool, Leo gently released the Dartfish into the water.

His movements were steady and fluid, and it was impossible to tell that he was still wearing a hundred kilograms of weights.

Biscuit sat in her usual spot, watching the scene, and finally revealed a truly satisfied smile.

"That'll do."

She stood, walked over to Leo, and patted him on the shoulder.

"Your talent is impressive. You haven't disappointed me."

Biscuit spoke in a serious tone, something she rarely did.

"Alright, no more catching fish. Rest tonight. Tomorrow, we'll begin the next stage of special training."

"Yes, Master Biscuit."

Leo finally removed the weights and let out a long breath.

For more than a month, his nerves had remained constantly taut as he endured Biscuit's devilish training.

Now that he had been granted a brief rest, exhaustion came crashing over him like a tide.

But he could feel the changes in his body—sharper reactions, greater physical strength, and more precise control over his aura.

The glow of the Moonlight Tundra gently brightened, turning the pool into a dreamlike blue.

Leo lay on the glowing moss, gazing at the starry sky through gaps in the canopy.

There would be new training tomorrow.

But tonight, he could finally relax for a while and let both his body and mind catch their breath.

Not far away, Biscuit lit a campfire, set up a small pot, and began cooking soup.

The aroma drifted over. It was the first proper food they had had in a month.

Leo closed his eyes and sank into a brief moment of peace.