CHAPTER 51: A SKILL BORN FROM BULLSHIT

The afternoon passed in quiet routine beneath the pale blue crystals illuminating the small courtyard.

Caius had expected Old Bones to eventually lose interest in their earlier conversation about the mana threads. Instead, the old assassin became almost single-mindedly obsessed with it.

He spent hours standing in the center of the training yard with his wooden sword slung casually over his shoulder, repeatedly circulating his dark elf mana down through his legs and attempting to project it outward across the granite floor. Whenever the energy dispersed into useless clouds of mist, he simply paused, adjusted his breathing, and tried again.

Sometimes the gray mana dissipated immediately upon leaving his boots. Other times, it pooled awkwardly around his ankles before collapsing into thin air.

Caius watched from the side of the yard, sitting on a low stone ledge, increasingly fascinated and alarmed.

The technique did not actually exist. At least, not in the way Caius had described it to the old man.

He had completely improvised an explanation on the spot to cover up the secret of his Arachne Thread Arts, claiming it was possible to condense raw mana like silk strands and project it onto an enemy's body. There was no ancient manual. There was no proper training method or secret meridian route. He had made the entire concept up out of thin air to trade for a new movement art.

Yet Old Bones was treating it like a lost executioner technique.

Is he really going to learn a bullshit skill I pulled out of nowhere? Caius almost laughed at the absurd thought.

But the longer he observed the old man, the less funny it became. Old Bones was not blindly repeating the same mistakes. He was methodically experimenting. He modified the density of the mana he pushed into his leg channels, altered the pulse frequency, adjusted his physical weight distribution, and tested different ways of anchoring the energy to the surrounding stone.

The old assassin was solving a theoretical nightmare through raw, battle-tested intuition.

That was when an even more disturbing realization struck Caius. The technique he had fabricated was rooted in a mechanism far beyond normal mana manipulation. The Arachne's web relied on her specialized Crown Core directing her beast core. Caius could replicate it because his Crown Core commanded his lower Black Core to manifest precise intents. Old Bones possessed no such double-core architecture; he was working strictly with standard dark elf mana.

Yet through sheer martial genius and centuries of muscle memory, the old assassin was slowly forcing standard mana to mimic the effect.

He is using ordinary mana to replicate something I can only perform because of a legendary dual-core system, Caius thought, staring at the old man. That is absolute madness.

And it made keeping his secrets infinitely more critical. If Old Bones could turn a completely made-up story into a functional martial art in a single afternoon, Caius did not want to imagine what would happen if the old assassin ever discovered the true mechanics of the Crown Core.

Several hours later, Old Bones finally opened his eyes, a strange, dangerous glint burning in his bloodshot red pupils.

He turned his head toward the two elite Vel'drin guards standing at their post outside the courtyard entrance.

"Come here," Old Bones called out casually.

The younger guard immediately stepped through the archway, bowing his head respectfully. "What does the elder require?"

Old Bones grinned, a predatory smile stretching his wrinkled face. "Come spar with me."

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The guard went completely rigid. His eyes darted toward the old assassin, catching the manic glint in his gaze. He had seen that look in senior commanders before. It was the expression of a master warrior who had just invented a dangerous new trick and urgently needed a living test dummy.

The guard swallowed hard. "Yes, Elder."

He walked over to the practice rack, selected a heavy oak training sword, and stepped into the ring. Old Bones picked up his own wooden sword.

Caius pulled back toward the stone wall, watching intently.

The guard brought his wooden blade up, entering a tight, cautious defensive stance. Old Bones remained entirely relaxed, holding his weapon loosely at his side.

"Attack," Old Bones commanded.

The guard stepped forward, driving his wooden blade in a sharp diagonal strike.

Their weapons collided with a hard crack.

At first, the exchange looked completely ordinary. Old Bones moved with his usual effortless control, parrying each strike with minimal physical effort. The guard attacked from multiple angles, trying to find an opening, but the old man casually slipped around his guard.

Every few exchanges, however, Old Bones attempted to project his mana toward the guard's feet.

Most attempts failed miserably. The gray energy dissolved before reaching the target. Sometimes it gathered in an unstable clump, and once it flared for a split second before vanishing completely.

The guard had no idea what the old man was trying to do. Caius, however, understood every detail. Old Bones was attempting to force standard mana into the precise structural parameters Caius had lied about.

Nearly another hour of painstaking trial and error passed.

Then, during a high-speed clash, something clicked.

The guard stepped forward to deliver a forceful horizontal slash. Old Bones shifted his weight, condensed a tight pulse of mana in his calf meridians, and drove it directly into the granite floor beneath the guard's boots.

A faint, subtle distortion appeared in the air around the guard's ankles.

The guard's forward momentum abruptly faltered. It lasted for only a fraction of a second, his lead foot dragging as if caught in invisible mud, but his sword arm slowed just enough to disrupt his strike timing.

That fractional delay was all Old Bones needed. His wooden blade whipped past the guard's guard, slamming hard against his shoulder.

The guard stumbled backward three steps, wincing as he clutched his bruised arm. He stared down at his legs in absolute confusion. "What..."

Old Bones stared at his own wooden sword for a moment, letting the sensation settle.

Then he threw his head back and let out a booming laugh that echoed off the high cavern walls.

He had done it.

The effect was crude and unrefined compared to Caius's Crown-directed threads, but it was undeniably real.

Old Bones turned toward Caius, a look of immense, genuine satisfaction across his face. "This is a good skill."

Caius stared back at him, his mind completely blank.

Old Bones gave his wooden sword a crisp, satisfied swing through the air. "Thank you, kid."

The guard continued rubbing his aching shoulder, looking back and forth between the old assassin and the human boy in sheer bewilderment.

Old Bones continued, thoroughly pleased with his breakthrough. "For a warrior, even a fraction of delay in an enemy's movement is a victory."

He looked over at the guard. "If your opponent's sword arrives a heartbeat slower, you have already gained a lethal opening."

The guard nodded slowly, bowing his head. "Yes, Elder."

Old Bones grinned broadly. "I'll need to practice this more."

Caius remained completely silent, his jaw hanging slightly open.

I actually created a new martial art.

He immediately dismissed the thought with a wave of internal panic. No! I didn't create anything! I lied! I stole a concept from a spider monster and made up a fake explanation to trade for a movement art!

And somehow, this terrifying old monster had taken that fabricated lie and forced reality to conform to it in a matter of hours.

Caius stared at the old assassin in sheer disbelief. Did I just invent a genuine martial technique by spouting absolute bullshit?

Old Bones noticed the boy's stunned expression and paused. "What?"

Caius quickly snapped his mouth shut, clearing his throat. "Nothing."

Old Bones chuckled, turning back toward the bruised guard with renewed energy. "Again."

The guard's face immediately fell. "Elder..."

"Again," Old Bones repeated, raising his wooden sword.

The guard let out a heavy sigh and raised his weapon once more.

Caius watched them return to their sparring stances. His ridiculous lie had somehow become a legitimate, functioning technique. It was equal parts impressive and deeply alarming.

Then Caius remembered the second half of their deal. Old Bones had promised to teach him Shadow Steps tomorrow morning.

Caius had been eager to learn it earlier. Now, a cold wave of apprehension settled in his stomach.

If this old executioner could take a completely improvised lie and turn it into a working skill in a single afternoon, then whatever legitimate, lethal secret art he was planning to teach Caius was going to be far worse.

Caius quietly swallowed hard.

What have I gotten myself into?

The answer would arrive at dawn.