He found an empty training room and changed into his sports uniform. He had no intention of practising aether until he was given the all clear by Footer, so he could only follow his regular routine. Afterwards, he would take some time to study combat theory. Now that he knew what his innate ability was, he could begin working on a more concrete combat style.

He spent a few minutes stretching and warming up before he started a light jog along the corners of the room. He was not planning on pushing himself to exhaustion today, so he only did give laps of the room before stopping and making his way over to the weapons rack.

He grabbed a thin, metallic spear and walked to the centre of the room. He could not help but compare it to the wooden spear of the Heralds. The wooden spear was thicker, and heavier than this one, and required Nero to use both his hands to maintain stability.

This one was much lighter, and could even be used as a pole, not that it was weak by any measure. This allowed him much greater control over the spear, and even gave him the option to use only one hand, freeing up the other to hold a shield, or a card. Of course, that would also reduce the kinds of movements he could do with the spear, but made him more versatile in other ways. There was no one better way of fighting, just what was one’s preference. Nero, personally, could not help but miss the touch of wood in his hands, even if it was heavier.

He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, much in the way he had instructed Silas. He held it till he felt he was about to suffocate, and then slowly breathed out. In the silence of the room, the sound of his breathing was extremely loud, but after a moment, another sound accompanied it.

Without opening his eyes, Nero began to spin the spear while holding it out in front of him. At first, he was not fast. Slowly and deliberately, he spun the spear, using both his hands to complete the rotation so that it never stopped.

The spears even sounded different, he could not help but note mentally.

Even without looking, his hands were in perfect coordination. Soon, the sound of the spear moving through the air drowned out the sound of his breathing as he steadily increased the speed.

Then, without warning, he added another movement, no longer swinging the spear in just one axis. He swung it close to his body on his right side, before returning to its original motion.

Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh.

He could hear the spear passing by his right ear, feel the slight breeze of it passing by his face. His speed was still increasing. He added another motion, now swinging on his left side as well. The once simple motion was now complicated, and required a lot more dexterity and coordination from his hands, but he managed perfectly. He still did not open his eyes.

But he did take a step forward, and with that step everything changed. Instead of repeating the same motions, Nero turned his practice into an art performance. His spear seemed to take a life of its own as it moved in inconceivable patterns all around him.

His hands did not seem to be rushed as they twisted and turned, and handed the spear to the other hand on Nero’s front, only to receive it a moment later behind his back. During the entire time, Nero was also moving back and forth, left and right, attacking and parrying imaginary enemies.

In the chaos of an imaginary battle, with his spear moving with such momentum that a single misstep could cause himself severe injury, Nero actually found himself at peace. His mind cleared. His thoughts drifted back to the earlier scene of Silas brimming with excitement at receiving his acknowledgment.

It was so genuine and wholesome that it caused him to wonder, had he helped Silas just because he could, or had he been after him as a contact? After all, both of Silas’ parents were very highly qualified artisans in the direct employ of the army!

It was all but set in stone that Silas too would gain some ability that would make him a very effective artisan, and today he had proved himself even without an ability.

So how much of Nero’s actions had been to achieve that single moment where he solidified the relationship between himself and Silas? Had he really felt pity for him when he saw him struggling? The answer was yes. Was that enough to get Nero to help him?

There was no answer for that yet. He could not decide what his motivation had been.

For a few more minutes Nero continued his practice, but then he felt fatigue piling on. It was not so easy to control the spear with the level of precision he required of himself.

With the end of his practice in sight, Nero opened his eyes, and his movements changed once more. Instead of lithe and swift, his movements became powerful and deliberate. Instead of a dozen movements, he made only one. But the strength packed in that single motion exhausted him more than the dozen before.

With each swing, and the death of an imaginary foe, his resolve strengthened. It did not matter what Nero’s motives were. The end result was undeniable – Silas was satisfied, and Nero had gained a powerful contact. Both of them were satisfied.

Besides, there was one thing Nero absolutely did not joke about. Since he had said he accepted Silas as one of his own, then it was absolutely true. If anything before today had just been an act, then everything after today would be real.

Nero suddenly spun on his heel and launched the spear across the room at full speed, at the figure watching from the shadow.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep