Current location: Thieves' Den— The forest, training area.

Slash!

Dangit.. not good enough.

Huffs and puffs breaths escaped the samurai's lips, muffled by the porcelain mask that hid his face. Katana stood motionless, his sharp eyes fixed on the battered and splintered dummy before him and many more from across the forest. The training ground was silent, save for the faint whisper of the wind, the rustling of the forest leaves and the steady drip of sweat falling from his brow.

His grip on the hilt of his weapon tightened as frustration simmered within him. Days, weeks, months—he had poured everything into perfecting his strikes, refining his technique to an edge sharper than any blade. Yet, as he stared at the scarred training dummies, it felt like an accusation, a silent reminder of his own perceived shortcomings.

'Not good enough,'

He thought, gripping tightly on the hilt of his weapon. His katana, his Gear, felt heavier in his hand than it ever had before. No matter how much he practiced, how many times he swung his blade, it always seemed to fall short of the ideal he chased.

He adjusted his stance, resetting his grip. The training dummy wasn’t just wood and straw—it was his doubt, his failure, the barrier he had to overcome to defeat the corruption. With a deep inhale, he surged forward once more, blade gleaming as it cut through the air.