Reincarnated as an Apocalyptic Catalyst
Chapter 80: Pain is the Best Teacher

Chapter 80: Pain is the Best Teacher

The old man’s hideout was as uninviting as ever. Nestled deep in the underbelly of the city, the place smelled like damp stone, burnt wood, and old books—a combination that might’ve been nostalgic if it weren’t for the constant feeling that I was going to get my ass kicked with another one of his ridiculous lessons. I couldn’t help but wonder why someone of such skill would tuck himself away in the slums, but I paid him to not ask questions and it would be hypocritical of me to ask questions of him.

Ronan and I stepped into the dimly lit chamber, the flickering torchlight barely doing anything to cut through the oppressive gloom. The old man sat at his usual place, hunched over a worn wooden table littered with parchment and half-melted candles. His gnarled fingers traced the spine of some ancient tome, a scene I had observed almost every single time I arrived here.

He didn’t look up when he spoke. "Took you long enough."

"I know, I know, I’ve been extremely busy saving the world and what have you." I mocked playfully.

The old man’s head tilted slightly, just enough for me to catch the gleam of his tired, yet sharp eyes beneath his hood. "You still talk too much."

"Seriously, did you not hear the part where I was saving the entire world?" This guy was impossible.

He finally closed his book with a soft thud and looked between me and Ronan. "You’re here because you’ve finally realized you’re weak."

"I mean... Yes, but, the world! Come on old man!" I pleaded on deaf ears. He wasn’t going to put up with my bullshit, and in a way, that was refreshing.

The old man gestured toward the center of the room, where a crude training area had been set up—a wide-open space marked by deep grooves in the stone from past battles. "Show me."

I sighed and stepped forward, rolling my shoulders. "What do you want me to—"

"Use Shadow Dance. Attack me."

I blinked. "Just like that?"

"Just like that."

Ronan and I exchanged glances. The old man wasn’t exactly known for his generosity when it came to training. If he was asking me to attack him outright, that meant he was planning to humiliate me before the lesson even began.

I took a breath, letting my magic stir to life as I activated Shadow Dance.

[Shadow Dance Activated]

[Mana: 80/100]

The world blurred at the edges as I sank into the shadows, moving with a speed and grace that I had grown accustomed to. I made significant advancements with the ability, to the point that few managed to react to my movements. I flickered behind the old man in an instant, daggers poised to strike—

And then I was on my ass.

Pain flared through my ribs where his elbow had struck, knocking the wind out of me before I even registered what had happened. My vision refocused just in time to see him standing over me, shaking his head.

"Predictable," he muttered.

I coughed and forced myself up. "Care to elaborate?"

"You rely on Shadow Dance like a crutch," the old man said, turning away as if I wasn’t worth his attention. "You use it to teleport behind your enemy and strike. But what happens when they expect it?"

I winced. "I get knocked on my ass?"

"Exactly."

Ronan tilted his head. "This outcome was foreseeable."

"Not helping," I muttered.

The old man sighed, rubbing his temples like he was dealing with an especially inept student. Which, to be fair, I probably was. "Shadow magic is not just for vanishing. It is an extension of yourself. You don’t use it to ’appear’ behind your enemy. You use it to move, to flow, to become something that cannot be tracked."

I frowned. "That sounds... difficult."

"If it were easy, you wouldn’t be here."

Fair enough.

The old man gestured toward the training area again. "Again. This time, don’t just rely on teleporting behind me. Use your surroundings. Keep moving. Make yourself unpredictable."

I clenched my jaw and took position again, reading for another bout of pain as he inevitably beat me into submission.

[Shadow Dance: Activated]

[Mana: 50/100]

This time, I didn’t teleport straight behind him. Instead, I shifted between the shadows in an erratic pattern, flickering to the left, then right, then feinting forward before vanishing again. I could feel the magic pulling at my limbs, urging me to move faster, to use it as something other than a parlor trick/

The old man finally moved, his footwork highly deceptively agile as he shifted his stance, tracking me despite every effort I put into my ambush. His eyes weren’t darting around wildly—he wasn’t looking for me. He was feeling for me.

I launched forward, aiming for his exposed side, and pain exploded in my shoulder as he twisted at the last second, grabbing my wrist and slamming me into the stone floor.

I groaned. "Are you kidding me?"

The old man released me and stepped back. "Better. But still sloppy."

I rolled onto my back, catching my breath. "I don’t suppose you have an easier way of teaching me?"

He snorted. "Do you wish to remain weak?"

I’ve never hated and respected someone as much as this old coot.

Ronan loomed over me, his expression unreadable. "Perhaps you should adjust your approach."

I scowled. "You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?"

Ronan blinked slowly. "I do not experience enjoyment."

Lies! Blatant, ridiculous, disgusting lies!

The old man crossed his arms. "Again. This time, use your daggers properly. Don’t just swing them like a desperate child. Use them to guide your movements."

I sat up with a groan, rubbing my aching shoulder. "Yeah, sure. Let me just pop my ribs back into place first."

The old man ignored me. "Again."

I dragged myself up, gripping my daggers tightly. I knew better than to argue.

I tried to focus on what he said, despite the absurdity of it all. He really offered little instruction, it was more about abusing me until I eventually figured out the lesson on my own. I let the shadows carry me. Every step was more fluid, every movement a little sharper than the last. I already knew how to use my daggers, but I tried to take in his words, tried to have them guide me.

[Shadow Dance Activated]

[Mana: 30/100]

When I reappeared this time, the old man almost didn’t counter in time... Almost.

He twisted away from my strike, narrowly avoiding my blade as I flickered past him. For a fraction of a second, I saw something in his expression—was it approval? That feeling of pride disappeared almost immediately as he swept my legs out from under me, and I hit the ground for the third time.

I groaned into the stone floor, not speaking any words in particular, but letting the floor absorb my discontent.

Ronan peered down at me again. "Your progress is increasing."

"Is it now?" I coughed up a little blood as my body reflexively curled into a ball.

The old man sighed. "Get up. We’re just getting started."

I cursed under my breath and forced myself to my feet.

"You’re going to need to give me a moment, or I’ll be spewing my guts from mana sickness in a few short minutes.

The old man tossed me a minor mana potion and beckoned me to rise. I downed the potion, despite his previous reservations of avoiding such things. I took this as a sign that I was earning his approval.

I was starting to suspect the old man was trying to kill me. Maybe he was having too much fun to give it up soon, and that’s why he gave me a quick way to refresh my mana?

It had been hours since we started, and my body was already screaming in protest. My muscles burned, my ribs ached from repeated impacts, and I was fairly certain I’d swallowed enough dust from the stone floor to start developing a taste for it. I also figured I had spat up enough blood for the floor to develop a taste for it.

Ronan, meanwhile, remained as pristine as ever, standing at the edge of the training area like some sort of grim reaper observing his next victim. Which, unfortunately, was me.