Chapter 23: Weapon Mastery Begins

The jungle's humidity clung to Vulcan as he stepped into the clearing, his breath steady but focused. The bone naginata rested lightly in his grip, its form deceptively simple. While it wasn't as heavy as metal, its length and design required precision, not just strength. Vulcan had power—he could punch through trees if needed—but this weapon wasn't about brute force.

He planted his feet firmly in the dirt, feeling the earth beneath him. Today was about refining how he used the naginata, making each movement instinctual and efficient.

Vulcan started with a series of strikes, each one deliberate. His arms swung the naginata in wide arcs, cutting through the air with fluid grace. But after each strike, he noticed a subtle imbalance—the blade wobbled slightly, and the follow-through wasn't as smooth as he wanted.

He adjusted his grip, shifting his hands slightly up the shaft. This time, as he swung, the weapon flowed more naturally. He repeated the motion again and again, each time making micro-adjustments until the naginata felt like an extension of his body.

The key wasn't power—it was control. He didn't need to overpower the weapon but to guide it.

Vulcan paused for a moment, catching his breath. His body remembered every correction. With each swing, the naginata's reach felt more natural, but he knew his real challenge lay in combining that reach with his speed and footwork.

He turned toward a nearby tree stump and began to practice more precise movements—thrusts, quick jabs at specific points as though targeting vital spots on an enemy. Each strike aimed to hit a weak spot, whether it was the throat or the heart. The naginata's length allowed him to keep his distance while still making decisive blows.

Next, Vulcan switched tactics. He visualized an opponent counterattacking, forcing him to bring the naginata up defensively. The weapon wasn't just for attacking—it was a tool to parry and counter. He practiced redirecting imagined strikes, bringing the shaft up to block before quickly rotating the blade into a fluid strike of his own.

Each movement was about positioning. The naginata's advantage lay in its ability to control space—to force enemies into positions where they couldn't close in, or worse, where they left themselves open.

The hours passed as Vulcan continued to refine his technique. By the time the sun had reached its peak, his arms burned with the effort of repeated strikes, but the weapon no longer felt foreign in his hands. It wasn't just a tool for hacking or slicing—it was a weapon that required precision, one that demanded patience as much as strength.

He knew there was still much to improve, but for now, he could feel the connection between himself and the weapon growing stronger.

Moving deeper into the jungle, Vulcan searched for a more active opponent. It wasn't enough to train against still targets—he needed to test the naginata in real combat. The jungle was teeming with life, and he didn't have to wait long before he found what he was looking for.

A sleek, fast-moving predator emerged from the underbrush, its eyes locked on him. It wasn't large, but its speed would make it dangerous.

Vulcan's muscles tensed, his mind shifting into combat mode. He let the beast come to him, knowing that if he swung too early, the nimble creature would dodge easily. Instead, he focused on timing, waiting until the last possible moment before pivoting his body, the naginata sweeping through the air with minimal effort.

The blade caught the beast mid-leap, its speed working against it as it impaled itself on the weapon's sharp edge.

Vulcan pulled the naginata free and took a step back, watching the fallen creature for a moment. His approach had been smooth, calculated. He hadn't over-committed to the strike, allowing him to remain poised for a follow-up if needed.

But there was more work to be done.

With the creature dispatched, Vulcan moved on, eager to test his limits further. The next target was slower but far stronger—a hulking beast with muscles that could crush bones. This time, Vulcan didn't wait. He blurred forward with Soru, the naginata sweeping in a fluid arc as he dashed past the creature's defenses.

The beast let out a roar, its massive arms swinging wildly. Vulcan knew better than to rely on a single strike. He pulled back, repositioning himself just outside its reach. Using the naginata, he poked and prodded, forcing the creature to chase him. Each swing of the blade was meant to guide the fight, making the beast react rather than attack.

He moved with deliberate steps, forcing the beast into a position where it had no choice but to lash out. When it did, Vulcan was ready. He dodged to the side, using the naginata's length to slice at its exposed flank before retreating to safety once more.

This was the true nature of the weapon. It wasn't about overpowering the enemy—it was about controlling them. His strikes didn't need to be fatal in one blow. By keeping his opponent at bay, he could wear them down, strike when it was least expected, and conserve his energy while his enemy wasted theirs.

Vulcan took a deep breath as the beast collapsed, exhausted from the repeated strikes. The naginata had worked exactly as he had hoped.

The more he fought, the more he understood that each enemy demanded a different approach. The nimble predators needed precision and patience. The larger beasts required distance and constant pressure. Every encounter was a lesson, and every lesson brought him closer to mastery.

As the sun began to dip behind the treeline, Vulcan's body ached from the day's efforts, but there was satisfaction in that pain. He had pushed himself, learned from his mistakes, and grown stronger because of it.

There was still a long way to go. The naginata wasn't just a tool anymore—it was becoming part of him. With every strike, every tactical choice, he was refining his approach, preparing for the greater challenges that lay ahead.

Vulcan stood alone in the clearing, the fallen beasts around him a testament to his progress. But something told him this island had more dangers to offer. His instincts were sharp, and somewhere in the distance, he could feel a growing presence—something bigger than any beast he had faced so far.