The courtyard stone reflected the sun's heat. Hannya's clothes were soaked through with sweat, her bare feet finding the slick patches by habit and avoiding them as she continued to train. The reason behind the overly wet ground was because she'd been swinging for two weeks straight. The training sword whistled the same arc each time and kissed the same spot in the air. Her shoulders burned and then forgot in intervals. Her lungs now finally learned a steady cadence when moving. She had run out of boredom on day three and now simply swung with a drifting mind and muscle memory.

Though she was soaked, she was far from tired.

Her mind continued to wander.

Old world debates rose like trash in a street gutter. The age old question came again. Who was the strongest? The Legendary Wonder Woman or Ultra Instinct Chi-Chi? She grinned at the thought, almost missing a step. Her supreme body corrected.

'The answer was obvious now,' she thought, and let the blade dip an inch lower on the follow-through. 'The strongest was Hannya.'

"Kikiki!"

She laughed under her breath, a bright sound that turned thin as she struck again. Her hand stayed steady. Her strikes stayed precise. The rhythm kept the gate on her thoughts, keeping them from completely spilling.

Another swing, another set. The calluses on her palms felt new, which was absurd because they had bloomed, peeled, and hardened a dozen times already. Holy water dried in old cracks on the paving where yesterday's lesson had scalded her. She had learned to resist the flinch and then to erase the impulse to chase the order. That was the point. Build immunity. Teach the body to swallow prayers like snacks and keep moving.

Her training was now bearing fruit. She laughed again.

"Kikiki, soon the pain will diminish too. Who dare stop me then? Certainly not that baldy."

A bald headed presence then squeezed the air behind her.

"Goofing off again?"

She jumped like a cat that had her tail stepped on. The blade snapped up on its own, she had already turned before the words reached her ears. A reflex gained from weeks ago that still owned a piece of her superior spine.

"G-gramps?" She scanned his hands for glass first. Good, no vial, no telltale cold glint at the edge of a sleeve, but she didn't relax all the way.

Baku shook his head, as if disappointed in the reaction rather than the student. His shoulders looked as if they had forgotten how to slouch decades ago as he crossed his arms.

"Stop looking at me like that, the holy water training is done," he said with a grunt. "Immunity building is your responsibility now. You have your own vial. Use it."

Hannya then snorted, chin high. "Done huh? That is what all abusers say. Abuser." She wouldn't be fooled again, she kept her guard high.

"Abus- what?" His eyebrows climbed, then settled. He stared at her for a long second and snorted back to make it even. "Are you serious, kid? You learned a lot. Stop trying to play victim. It won't work on this old man."

"So magnanimous," she said, lowering the raised sword. "You say I learned a lot," She sneered. "but when are you gonna stop holding out on me and teach me the secret techniques? I am already halfway through the basic arts."

"You are halfway through," he said. "That is what halfway means."

"Yeah, yeah. I get it," she said. "Foundation. Discipline. Humility. But don't act like you don't have more Arts. We had a deal, old man."

Baku regarded her for a moment. No impatience, no obvious kindness, a sort of cataloging that made her itch a bit.

He was curious. She could feel that much. Curious about how she knew there was more to learn than the twelve forms he had drilled into her bones. His master's legacy lived behind a door he had not opened for her yet. And ancestral knowledge wouldn't be a reliable answer. She didn't tell him how she knew, and he didn't ask. Devils didn't ask devils to show their hands, they simply adapted to the knowledge they knew of one another. This was clearly a secret, and Baku knew she kept hers closed. She said nothing and smiled.

And in turn, he sighed. Shook his head once, and continued.

"You must master the first forms of the style before we move to the charm techniques," he said. "The night demons on the line win with speed and strength. Most foes fall to that, but some foes don't. Some are stronger, faster. Don't ever think otherwise. That is when the second set matters. My master built them to bend a room when the walls close in around you. To kill above our reach, to slay the impenetrable with what most consider the softest law. Charm inside the edge."

"Charm inside the edge, I see. The slow blade penetrates the shield and such." Hannya nodded before she could stop herself. She wanted them. She wanted it all. The first twelve made her body into a weapon. The unseen ones would make rooms fall quiet when she entered. She could feel her thirst for that power.

"And you are waiting," she said. "Why?"

"Because you will break them if I hand them to you now," he scoffed, and didn't soften it an ounce. "Foundation first. Learn the forms until your body stops asking your mind for permission. With your talent you will not only hold my master's art, but build something of your own."

"Something greater." she stated, testing the words in her mouth.

"Perhaps, Supremes are capable of no less. If you don't hurry past sense, that is." he said.

She rolled her shoulders. The film of sweat chilled as she moved again, making her shiver. The training sword felt heavier now that she had stopped. Her mind tried to fill the room with impatient noise again. She deserved that power… why should she wait? She tightened her grip and stood still instead. Baku's assessment should be correct.

'I'll wait then.' Her blood slowed to compliance.

"You really are done with the holy water?" she said, eyes squinted as if confirming an alibi.

"I am done." he said. "The vial in your ring is not a talisman. It will be a habit. You dose yourself with it before sleep, and gradually increase for a year. Then you will stop noticing that it once wanted to kill you, and Orders blade will dull in turn."

She made a face and rubbed the spatial ring. The sour sting of sanctified liquid still touched the air from earlier, but the desire to snarl at the atmosphere lessened at the edges of her mind now.

"So I micro-dose before bed," she said. "That's cute."

"Effective," he corrected. "You want a throne of your own but refuse the steps to sit there. That's uninteresting." His bald head high with the wisdom of one that's climbed past the limit of what the world had deemed proper.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

She blinked, then laughed. "Kikiki! When are you going to teach me how to roast like that?" Most of her forum battle techniques were lost rhetoric to the residence of Neel. The way Baku looked down on others fit the cadence of this fantasy world much better. She wanted both the sword and loftyness when carving her way through the planes. She was greedy of course.

"When you stop asking for it." he answered with a grin, pleased with himself.

"Fine," she said. "One more thing. Are the charm techniques only for the pretty ones? And if that's the case, how does your ugly mug know them?" She asked seriously, eyes narrowed.

Baku's expression didn't change, despite the trembling vial of holy water loosening in his sleeve. He decided to shave off the last part of her question. He wouldn't get goaded into a back and forth again just because the child was offended over being called uninteresting. He understood her well enough at this point. So he answered the question with the restraint of an elder.

"They are for the ones who can hold two truths and two laws in one hand," he said. "Your blade and their breath. Your intent and their heartbeat. Your charm and their perception. Most cannot. Charm demons have a head start due to their innate ability, and yes, their looks help. Night demons can learn to fake it long enough to mean it, manipulation of laws can be done by any with enough training. The extent just varies. You are not most. You already carry one law without the need to balance it at all."

Hannya let that sit. It felt good. It hooked under her ribs and pulled up. The pure narcissism straightening her spine.

"Then stop starving me here, gramps. Just feed me those Arts now!" she grinned.

Snort

A snort louder than normal, compressing her spine back down a humbler length. "Eat what's on the table first. Did you not hear me earlier?" he said, his pressure rising. "If you skip steps, it will cripple your potential."

"But gramps," she said, tone softening against her will. "I don't only want your master's art. I want my own as well."

"You will find it," he said, the pressure receding. "If you stay long enough with work that doesn't glitter. If done right, your own insights will come before you even complete the first twelve forms."

She watched the line of his mouth and recognized the end of the lesson coming toward her.

"Go and rest," he said. "Ponder what you have already learned. We begin again in the morning."

She frowned at him like a child who knew bed was the correct answer and resented it anyways. And he was right. She didn't just want the secret arts. She wanted a spine that would carry something new. She wanted to be the one other devils cited when they tried to explain why some battles ended before the first step.

She was a Supreme, every battle should be marked in history. Her mind laughed at her image in every textbook across Hellnia, recording her valiance. Wouldn't Vainglory pretend to be unimpressed at her feats and pocket the picture in secret anyway? Cold handsomes were stubborn like that.

"Kikiki, pondering sounds like a good idea. I'll do that. See you tomorrow, gramps." She waved without worry, walking off the training platform and onto the path down the mountain.

He didn't believe a word she said about pondering and let her leave anyway. She still needed the rest. Making her train after draining her essence should have taken a lot out of her these past couple of weeks. After a night of rest, she should be stronger than she is now. His master's regiment had a young devil's growth down to a science.

He would push her the same way his old master had pushed him when he was a young devil.

As she vanished, he rubbed his bald head and snorted. "Ugly mug? I'm no luxuria, but it isn't like I'm a greeder…" Now those bastards were ugly. "Kahuhuhu, damn ugly." He comforted himself, turning and heading higher up the mountain; the fissure needed tending.

She left the courtyard by the eastern steps. The path curved under an arch of twisted trees that shaded the road headed downward, the air felt much cooler there. The first pavilion sat halfway down the slope. A clay basin filled with fresh water waited near the railing, the water surface glassed with a peaceful still. She broke it with her fingers and cupped water over her face. The chill crawled on her skin and ran down her neck. She poured more over her hair and squeezed out the pink. The water at her feet reflected the color of a sunset just beginning to settle.

She peeled her training shirt over her head and wrung it out. The fabric slapped the rail and dripped over the edge. Her skin steamed in the late light. She could feel the rapid changes from the past two weeks. Her muscles leaner, density harder. They listened to her more, assisted her more. She grinned as she traced her defining lines, she was becoming the entity she dreamed of, envied, expected. Her eyes flicked past the edge of the railing, further down the mountain, to the village far below. She was also that other thing, the shut-in girl who asked to order her life by screen and list. That girl would have never picked up a blade on purpose. That girl called those people NPCs to keep them from becoming real.

"But why shouldn't they be real? Aren't I just saying my dream life could be woken up from, if that were the case?" The logic followed. But she knew deep down she didn't see them as people, only population. Population that would grant her desire after evolution with their worship. Population was power, of course.

"..."

Her hand touched the railing. The knuckle whitened. The stone cracked.

"...I'll go to the restaurant tomorrow."

She looked back up the courtyard. Empty now. Baku had left the second their conversation ended to check the fissure. To ensure their safety.

"It seems so easy for that old baldy…"

So easy. Too easy. To care for others. Even when it came to the lower beings. Not like pets, not like population, like people. She couldn't remember if she was the same way when she was that girl.

She waved the thought away and headed inside. Why think about a demon when you're a devil?

Her pavilion smelled of cedar and a scented soap Baku insisted on. Even in a fantasy world, old people had the strangest recommendations. She lit the small lamp on the table and set the window screens for a cross breeze. The low bed waited. She didn't lie on it yet. If she lay down she might not get up. Her limbs kept telling her they were fine but she didn't dare trust them now. That would fade, the body adjusted to lies repeated often enough. And She'd been doing it for two weeks.

She waved her hand, and a tiny vial appeared, she unstoppered it and gazed at the contents. The holy water glimmered as if happy to be chosen. It still smelled like rot from a slaughterhouse. She hated that she had learned to appreciate this sterilizing smell. Wasn't she some sort of freak now? She tipped a drop on her tongue and held it there to let the burn walk through the soft parts of her mouth; it was worse if you swallowed right away. She had learned that the hard way. She swallowed after ten seconds. The heat went down her throat and spread through her body. Her skin began to numb and prickle all at once. Her eyes watered, and she refused to blink. After a while, the wave broke, leaving a cleaner ache.

DING

[

Order Law exposure is increasing!

[Mid Order Law Resistance] has activated!

Adaptation is working…

Immunity Progress: 41%

Next Adaptation: High Order Law Resistance(A)

]

She set the vial down and stared at the floor until the notifications in her head stopped pinging her mind.

Baku was not wrong. The first half of the twelve forms had finally stopped needing orders from her mind. Her body took them like a messenger with a key to the back door. She could build on that. The other set would have to wait it seemed. She didn't like waiting, she could hear her blood yelling 'Scam', but she knew better now not to fully comply with those urges. She would learn to weaponize patience rather than the other way around.

She had done that before, plenty of times. That girl would always play that game…

Probably.

She pulled on a fresh shirt and braided her hair to the side where it did not catch the nape when she slept. The pink strand at the front refused to behave, It dangled and framed her eye in defiance. She rolled her eyes and let it.

The pavilion was quiet. Outside, the mountain breathed. Somewhere far below, someone sang the kind of song one would sing at a bar when they're trying to forget, loud and unashamed. Noh would be in her courtyard now, teaching her attendants to bow without looking like they were breaking. Hannya was in no mood for bows. She was in the mood to sleep and wake up better.

She lay down on the narrow bed and let her breath find her practiced count. In. Hold. Out. Hold. She pictured the first form and walked through it without moving. She pictured the fourth and the fifth, the sixth when her mind flickered. She pictured a veil she didn't own yet, one that would do more than hide a face. She didn't know why she had thought of that. It seemed interesting and far away.

Sleep took her like a hand on the back. She didn't fight it. Morning would come with Baku's voice and the blade. Then evening would be back to introductory etiquette with Noh after weeks of punishment… after weeks of special training, she meant. The mountain would stay the mountain. The forms would still be waiting for her to carry them without complaint. She could do that. She would do that. The rest would come when it was ready to be hers.

She let her mind fade to nothing, the pavilion would be here again when she woke up.

Probably.

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