Chapter 210 – Want to Be My Disciple?
Up until a few days ago, this clearing had been filled with Karl and the rest of the group, all working together through the Training of the Dead.
But now, only Karl remained.
According to the witches, the others had reached the maximum level of growth that could be achieved through the Fruit of the Dead.
To continue strengthening their existence rank, they needed to undergo possessions by progressively stronger spirits. However, for everyone except Karl, no spirits powerful enough to induce further growth would attach to them.
Strangely enough, Karl was the only one still attracting powerful spirits. The witches said it was because of his special sensory abilities.
[Karl Bastain – Hero’s Aide (Perception)]
The Divine Spirit had identified Karl’s attribute as Perception.
It seed that the special sense the witches spoke of was directly related to this attribute. His Perception affected even unseen beings.
Because of that, Karl was forced to undergo what felt like a lifeti’s worth of training all at once.
With five witches overseeing him, the Training of the Dead had turned into sothing so brutal that even Sparta would pale in comparison.
At this rate, Karl might beco the fastest 5-star Awakener in history.
“Die!”
Karl suddenly snapped back to reality, his eyes flashing open as he threw a dagger.
The blade whizzed past my neck.
A drop of blood beaded on my skin before falling.
If the angle had been just slightly off, my throat would have been pierced.
I clutched my neck, letting out a dry chuckle as I looked at Karl.
“…I almost died just now, didn’t I?”
“That wasn’t . It was the spirit possessing .”
I glanced at the witches, but they all shook their heads.
A mont of silence passed before Karl suddenly let out a scream and started rolling on the ground.
He was possessed again.
When I looked back at the witches, they shook their heads once more.
It seed like Karl was holding quite the grudge against .
Honestly, if I were in his position, I’d probably want to kill too.
Maybe it was ti for a little carrot after all the stick.
“Karl.”
“GRAAAHH!”
“I found so information about an auxiliary prosthetic arm. I’ll tell you about it later.”
“GAH—Wait!”
As Karl scrambled toward , I held up a hand to stop him and spoke firmly.
“Finish the Training of the Dead properly. Then, I’ll give you the information about the new prosthetic.”
“…You swear?”
“Have I ever lied to you?”
“Y-you always— No! Of course not! I trust you completely, Captain!!”
Said the sa guy who was screaming die at just monts ago. Captain my ass.
Shaking my head, I turned to one of the witches.
“Is Natasha not here?”
“She arrived at dawn and has been helping the ghosts train.”
“Dawn? She’s quite dedicated.”
“She said there’s no day more exciting than today.”
I could only give an awkward laugh.
When the witches spoke of ghosts, they didn’t an wandering spirits in the forest.
They were referring to Elton and the other eight mbers of the group.
After completing the Training of the Dead, they were now called ghosts—a na given due to the new abilities they had gained.
I patted Karl on the shoulder and turned to the witches.
“Make sure to go extra hard on him.”
“C-Captain?!”
“After seeing him today, I think you can push him even further.”
“You son of a—!”
And just like that, any sense of loyalty was gone.
Ignoring Karl’s screams, I left the clearing.
Since Natasha was training the others, she was likely in the cave.
So I made my way there.
Being possessed by a ghost ant suffering from horrifying nightmares.
In other words, sleep itself beca a luxury.
But by enduring this torturous training, the group had been able to grow stronger.
I still rembered their faces when the witches declared their training complete.
“…Yeah, it was the exact sa face I had when I was discharged from the military.”
Relief, euphoria, confidence.
It was understandable.
All of them had awakened to 4-star and gained a new ability.
But that confident expression didn’t even last a full day.
The mont I brought them to Natasha for further training, their faces twisted into sothing more akin to desperate, unemployed job seekers.
[You want to beat them with Gereflam’s Fist?]
[Yes.]
[To what extent?]
[Spicy level.]
And from that day on, the cave was filled with fresh screams.
Karl, of course, would be sent in as soon as he finished the Training of the Dead.
But since Karl was special, I planned to request sothing even worse than spicy level for him—sothing with extra capsaicin.
BOOOOM—!
A loud explosion, followed by screams.
As I stepped into the cave’s dark interior, a fierce wind slashed across my cheeks.
It was an eerie wind.
“Urghhh!”
“Behind you! Dodge!”
“W-wait! Not the fist—GAH!”
Elton’s panicked cries rang out, followed by the thunder of footsteps, explosions, and more screams.
A battle was raging within the darkness.
Each impact sent sparks flashing through the air.
For a split second, I caught sight of a woman with short red hair, moving chaotically through the shadows.
Each ti the wind howled, the group let out fresh screams, crashing into the cave walls with sickening thuds.
WHOOOOSH—
The sound of an enormous fist swinging through the air.
Sowhere in the darkness, Natasha was pumling them with Gereflam’s Fist.
When the cave finally fell silent, filled only with groans of pain, I quietly spoke up.
“Natasha.”
“Hm? When did you get here?”
“A little while ago.”
“I was so caught up in the feeling of it that I didn’t even notice.”
A snap of her fingers, and the cave suddenly lit up.
I took one look at the scene before and couldn’t help but gape.
Elton and the others were sprawled across the floor in twisted positions.
The walls and ground were completely shattered.
How many tis did she have to slam them into the ground for it to end up like this?
Yeah… I take back what I said about capsaicin-level training for Karl.
If I make that request, he’ll end up ground into minced at.
“…Are they okay? They look half-dead.”
“They’re fine. Ghost Form halves the effect of physical damage. They’ll be back on their feet by tomorrow.”
“That… sounds even more painful.”
“You’re the one who asked to do this, rember? You wanted them to get used to Ghost Form.”
Ghost Form.
The new ability they had acquired through the Training of the Dead.
The Ghost Form was a passive ability that developed after prolonged contact with spirits while holding the Fruit of the Dead.
When activated, it reduced one’s presence and significantly mitigated physical impact on the body.
It was a discovery made by the Shamans' Nest during their research on the Fruit of the Dead and had been part of my plan from the start to increase the group's survival rate.
It’s also the perfect counter to assassins.
When they entered Ghost Form, their presence beca faint—an incredible ability for forr assassins like them.
“Whew, my body feels so much lighter now.”
Natasha humd as she deactivated Ghost Form.
She seed more than satisfied with the training.
Given her love for brawling, it made sense—this was an opportunity for her to go all out.
It wasn’t like she could go around beating up witches, after all.
“Once you’re used to Ghost Form, you won’t end up dying like so weakling. No, honestly? If you fight with everything you’ve got, even strong opponents will have to bet their lives to keep up. Even I get a thrill from ti to ti.”
“…That strong?”
“When I blindfold them and force them to fight on pure instinct, yeah, I can smack them around. But if we fought seriously in an open space? Who knows how that’d go? You have no idea how terrifying a group of well-coordinated 4-stars can be.”
“No, I do. I got beaten to a pulp by one before. Felt like I was turned into dried jerky.”
“…What?”
The Judges' Hamrs—those damn dwarves.
I wonder how they’re doing now.
Snap.
With a flick of Natasha’s fingers, the space around us glowed a soft green.
A warm energy enveloped my entire body.
It was a shamanic healing spell embedded into the space, ensuring that after just a day of rest, the group would be fully recovered.
The fact that Natasha went out of her way to create this just so she wouldn’t have to go a single day without punching soone… yeah, she was definitely not normal.
Leaving the collapsed group behind, I followed Natasha out of the cave.
As soon as we stepped into the forest, I imdiately threw a punch at her.
She blocked it effortlessly, flashing a sharp grin.
“You didn’t get hit enough two days ago?”
“You’re gonna beat to a pulp anyway. Can’t you let land at least one punch?”
“A fair fight is a fair fight.”
Thwack!
“Guhhh!”
Her thunderous fist caved into my chest, sending tumbling across the ground.
I barely managed to twist my body mid-roll and land on my feet, adjusting my stance.
My posture mirrored Natasha’s—both fists raised, aiming forward.
At the sa ti, my fists began to glow red, just like hers.
A strange sensation, like being subrged in water, spread through my body.
It was the effect of Gereflam’s spirit wrapping around .
Instinctively, my body settled into a combat stance.
It felt unfamiliar yet completely natural.
The Giant Tribe’s martial art—Quanru.
I was learning both Spirit Arts and Natasha’s close-combat fighting style, Quanru.
The Retonicalus-style was far too overwhelming for a re human body like mine.
Though Quanru still pushed the body to its limits, it was nowhere near as brutal as Retonicalus, which tore past the body’s constraints entirely.
Compared to that monster of a fighting style, Quanru felt like the perfect fit for .
“…Weak.”
“Aaaaghhh!”
Of course, since I had to learn through actual combat, the process was hell.
My daily routine in the Ghostly Forest was simple.
I spent my nights attempting to connect with Reto’s spirit.
Then, every morning, I got my ass handed to by Natasha while learning Quanru.
“…Fuck.”
After spending the entire day as a human punching bag, I would heal and then receive more instruction on Spirit Arts.
But lately, our lessons had turned into discussions—mostly about why I kept failing to connect with Reto.
“…What if Reto isn’t actually a spirit?”
“You saw it yourself during our test in the Ghostly Forest. He’s definitely a spirit.”
The first day I started learning Spirit Arts, Natasha and I conducted a test to verify Reto’s existence rank.
Natasha called it the Pit Fight Ring.
It was a shamanic space that materialized spirits within a confined area.
Once inside, spirits would either sense each other’s presence and fight or, if there was a difference in rank, the weaker one would instinctively retreat.
“…What if Reto is a spirit unlike any I’ve ever encountered?”
“…You an?”
“You know it too, don’t you? That whatever’s inside your heart isn’t normal.”
Even in the Ghostly Forest, where powerful spirits road freely—so strong enough to give 4-star Karl nightmares—the test yielded sothing strange.
The mont I entered the ring, all spirits froze.
None of them attacked.
None of them ran.
They simply sat down.
The only exception was Gereflam, Natasha’s spirit, who managed to remain standing.
But even he had lost his fighting spirit.
That was the first ti Natasha had ever seen Gereflam hesitate, and it left her shaken.
After that, she began teaching Quanru, the Giant Tribe’s martial art.
This wasn’t just so casual lesson.
It was a form of knowledge inheritance through Spirit Arts.
I might not have realized it, but…
This was a sacred thod reserved only for direct disciples.
Natasha’s gaze lingered on , a strange determination flickering in her eyes.
“…Maybe it’s sothing you can’t see.”
“…Can’t see?”
“When you used Quanru, how did it feel?”
“…What do you an?”
“When you threw your punches—did they feel awkward? Painful? Any resistance?”
“…Other than being unfamiliar, no.”
“Show .”
I assud the Quanru stance and began throwing punches.
The martial art of the Giant Tribe.
I was only able to learn it because I had ford a contract with Gereflam.
So I understood just how difficult Quanru was to master.
It wasn’t ant for humans.
It was a fighting style designed for giants—beings with bodies of steel.
And yet, I was learning it far too quickly.
As if… I had been born to use it.
Natasha absentmindedly fiddled with her bracelet, deep in thought.
Then, after a brief mont of hesitation, she called over.
“…Do you want to be my disciple?”
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