Path of the Unmentioned: The Missing Piece

The private training room hummed with energy.

The air thick with the scent of ozone and sweat. Harsh white lights flickered above.

Casting sharp shadows on the polished floor.

Blue-tinged mana puppets circled Kyle in perfect silence. Their glowing bodies shifting like misty ghosts.

There were five of them. Each one holding a different weapon.

A sword, an axe, a spear, a dagger, and a heavy flail.

They were fast, precise, and completely tireless.

Kyle stood in the center, legs slightly bent. His breathing steady but heavy.

He gripped Zalrielle tightly. His tachi pulsed with faint energy.

As if eager to cut through something again.

The black combat suit clung to his body. Drenched in sweat.

And the reinforced material held up against the mana strikes he had already endured.

Thick weights were strapped around his wrists and ankles, dragging at every movement.

Each swing took more effort. Each dodge was harder than the last. But he welcomed it.

'This is how it should be.'

He'd been distracted lately. Too many things outside training.

The train attack still haunted his mind. So did the mess with Mira and Lila. Long nights in the library.

He hadn't had time to focus like this in a while.

But today was different. No classes. No interruptions. Just him, Zalrielle, and these training.

The sword-wielding puppet moved first, dashing forward with a clean, fast slash aimed at his ribs.

Kyle shifted his body just enough to let it miss. Feeling the blade graze the air beside him.

In one smooth motion, he turned and brought Zalrielle up in a hard vertical cut.

The sword bit into the puppet's glowing torso, disrupting the mana inside. It staggered but didn't fall.

No time to follow up.

The axe puppet attacked next. Its strike came from above. A heavy downward chop meant to crush.

Kyle barely got his tachi up in time, blocking the hit. The force sent a jolt through his arms.

He slid back slightly on the polished floor, boots scraping against it.

'Too slow.'

Grinding his teeth. He forced the axe aside and ducked just in time to avoid a spear thrust from the third puppet.

Then came the dagger. Fast, sharp, and aimed at his side.

Kyle turned quickly. The blade missing him by inches, but the flail wasn't far behind.

It swung wide in a deadly arc. Kyle jumped back. Narrowly dodging the spinning head.

His chest heaved, lungs pulling in short, sharp breaths. His arms burned.

The weights were doing their job. Every move felt slower than it should be.

But that was exactly why he wore them.

'Faster'

The puppets didn't wait. They attacked again without a pause.

Kyle forced himself to focus, adjusting his stance. This time, he was ready.

The sword puppet returned with a flurry of slashes.

Kyle blocked each one. Zalrielle clashing against the mana-forged blade again and again.

Sparks flew. The air buzzed with tension. Zalrielle felt alive in his hands. Sharp, eager, responsive.

She had missed this.

She had been quiet and restless during group combat class. Stuck using wooden swords like everyone else.

But now, in his grip. She sang with energy.

The axe came back with a roar, aiming for his shoulder.

Kyle sidestepped and brought his sword down in a harsh slash across its back.

The mana puppet flickered. Its form destabilizing as it stumbled.

But the spear puppet didn't give him a break. Its thrust came from the side.

Kyle dropped low, rolling across the floor.

He popped back up and spun to block the dagger aimed at his neck. Sparks flew as blade met blade.

He twisted and barely avoided another wild swing from the flail.

There were too many. He had to start thinning them out.

He pretended to go for the sword puppet again, baiting it in.

But at the last second, turned and struck at the spear one instead.

The unexpected move worked. Zalrielle sliced through its torso, disrupting the core.

The puppet collapsed into glowing mist.

'One down.'

The axe swung again, but Kyle was ready.

He stepped in. Blocking the strike with both hands, muscles straining from the impact.

Then, with a quick shift of balance. He cut across its chest. The core shattered, and the second puppet vanished.

'Two.'

The remaining three moved in.

The dagger came first, stabbing rapidly in a blur.

Kyle blocked most of the strikes, but one got through, slicing a shallow cut across his arm.

He grunted, but didn't stop moving. The flail puppet was more dangerous.

It swung wildly, unpredictable and strong.

Kyle waited.

Then, there. An opening.

The flail swung wide, too wide.

Kyle darted in. Fast despite the weights, and brought Zalrielle down in a clean. sharp cut.

The chain broke. The flail head bounced across the floor.

Useless now.

Before the puppet could react. Kyle drove Zalrielle through its glowing chest. It collapsed like the others.

'Three.'

Only the sword and dagger remained.

Kyle's chest rose and fell quickly. Sweat dripped from his chin. His arms ached. But he didn't slow down.

The sword puppet attacked. Kyle met it head-on. Their blades crashing together.

He twisted, locked its weapon, and drove a hard kick into its middle, knocking it off balance.

The dagger puppet came at his side again, fast as ever, but Kyle turned just in time.

Zalrielle flashed. Slicing through it cleanly.

'Four.'

Only one left.

The sword puppet reset. It stood still for half a second, then charged.

Kyle stepped forward, meeting its strike with his own. Their swords clashed in a loud, ringing crash.

For a moment. They were locked in place, both pushing against each other.

Then Kyle moved.

He shifted his weight, broke the deadlock, and spun into a fast, clean slash.

Zalrielle cut through the puppet's chest.

It vanished in a soft cloud of light.

Silence returned to the room.

Then. The automated voice echoed:

[Session Complete. Victory. Performance Analysis: 87% Efficiency.

Suggested Adjustments: Improve reaction time to flanking strikes. Endurance training recommended.]

Kyle let out a long breath. His shoulders sagging as the last bit of adrenaline faded.

Sweat clung to his skin. His arms felt like lead. His legs trembled slightly under the strain.

He turned to look at the wall-mounted clock.

9:08 PM.

He blinked.

'Had it really been that long?'

He'd started his training session early in the morning, and now the entire day had passed.

Twelve hours. No breaks. No lunch. Not even water since afternoon.

His body finally gave in. With a groan, Kyle let himself drop to the floor.

The cool surface pressed against his back, and he lay there, staring up at the ceiling lights.

The buzz of mana slowly faded around him as the training room powered down.

Zalrielle, his spirit weapon. Rested beside him. She still gave off a soft, low hum.

Barely noticeable. Like a cat purring after a good hunt.

Kyle turned his head and reached for her. His fingers brushing along her blade.

"We're getting better," he said quietly.

A gentle pulse ran through her, as if agreeing.

He smiled a little and closed his eyes for a moment.

His chest rose and fell slowly. Every inch of his body ached.

He'd pushed himself hard today. But he needed to.

The attack on the train kept replaying in his head. The fear. The helplessness. The deaths. The cultist's mocking voice.

Back then. He'd frozen for a second too long. That moment had almost cost Reo his life.

'Never again.'

The knowledge he had from the novel. The story he thought he knew, wasn't reliable anymore.

Characters were acting differently. Events were shifting. It wasn't safe to depend on the book's timeline or outcomes.

He had to get stronger. Not just in skill. But in mindset. In body. In instinct.

He had to become someone who could protect the people he cared about.

Grunting, Kyle pushed himself into a sitting position. Pain shot through his back and arms. His muscles screamed in protest.

He forced his body to move, one stiff limb at a time. There were still cool-down stretches to go through.

He couldn't skip those. Not after a long session like this.

If he did.

He'd regret it tomorrow.

He stood slowly. Rolled his shoulders, and began stretching his legs. One at a time. Breathing steady.

Every stretch hurt. But the kind of pain that came with effort. Earned pain.

After ten minutes of slow movements and deep breathing. He finally stopped, his body still sore but more relaxed.

Now came the next important step.

A hot shower.

And food.

Definitely food.

His stomach growled loudly. Almost as if agreeing.

———