After buying the steel, Santoryu returned home. As he stepped inside, his mother noticed he was empty-handed and looked at him with mild concern.
"Did you not get the training equipment you wanted?" she asked.
Santoryu shook his head. "No, that's not it. It's just too heavy to carry by myself. They'll be delivering it later."
His mother nodded without question, trusting her son completely.
"Alright then. I'm heading to the market now," she said, picking up a small bag. "Take care of the house. Your father might be back soon."
"Father's still at the fields?" Santoryu asked.
"He came back this afternoon while you were sleeping," she replied. "But he didn't want to wake you, so he headed back to the fields."
Santoryu nodded, then watched as his mother stepped out the door.
With the house to himself, he made his way to the courtyard. Under the guidance of the system, he resumed his sword training drills—the same ones he had practiced that morning.
The session lasted another hour and a half. Compared to the morning, his progress was clear. His stances were more solid, his swings more fluid. Even his body control had noticeably improved.
Earlier, he had only been able to hold the three-sword-style stance for ten minutes after a full training routine. But now, in the evening session, he pushed through and held it for fifteen minutes—matching his performance from the day before.
His recovery, discipline, and consistency were paying off.
Just as Santoryu completed the final sword training drill, the system's voice echoed in his mind:
"Crafting process for the training equipment has been completed."
In an instant, several items materialized in front of him: a set of dumbbells, a barbell with weight plates, and four metallic bands—two sized for wrists, two for ankles—all forged from solid steel.
Santoryu examined them, his brow furrowing slightly.
"I understand the weights and the dumbbells," he said, "but what are these bands for? Do I wear them on my arms and legs?"
"Exactly, Host," the system confirmed.
"Once you've adapted to your current training routine, you'll begin wearing these bands during sword practice, running, and physical drills. They'll significantly boost the intensity and efficiency of your training. But not yet. Your body isn't ready."
Santoryu nodded, accepting the system's logic without question.
Now equipped with proper weights, he launched into a full-body workout, cycling through every exercise he could manage using the dumbbells and barbell. He trained with focused energy, determined to push himself further than before.
By the end, his body was drained. He dropped to the ground, gasping for breath, sweat clinging to his skin.
"System," he said between breaths, "I haven't checked my character panel since yesterday. Show me how much I've improved after all this training."
The moment he finished speaking, a glowing screen appeared before his eyes—his character panel, ready to reveal the results of his effort.
––––
[Character Panel]
Name: Santoryu Hatake
Age: 8
Rank: Genin
Power Level: 200 → 204 (Genin Range: 1–1000)
Abilities: None
Evaluation: Weaker than most Genin of the same age. Your current power level is so low that even a well-trained adult civilian could overpower you.
––––
Santoryu stared at the panel.
His power level had only increased by four points—from 200 to 204. On the surface, it didn't seem like much. But he reminded himself: this was the result of just a day and a half of training. If he could continue growing at this steady pace, in another year or so—perhaps a year and a half—he'd break past the Genin threshold and reach Chūnin level.
That kind of progress, at his age, was fast. Very fast. And more importantly, it was consistent.
A small smile touched his lips. He was satisfied.
After resting for about fifteen to twenty minutes, he began preparing his herbal bath. The now-familiar process brought comfort—he knew how effective it was in speeding up recovery.
While he was getting ready, his father, who had returned home, watched him quietly. He could see the fatigue on Santoryu's face, the weariness in his limbs. But he also saw something else—determination. His son hadn't backed down, hadn't quit. And that gave him relief.
Still, concern lingered in his voice as he spoke.
"Son," he said, "I can see how hard you're working. And I respect that. But make sure you're also getting proper rest. If you push too hard without recovery, it could backfire. And that wouldn't help anyone."
Santoryu looked up and nodded.
"I know, Father. I'm fully aware of the risk. I understand that being hasty will only slow me down in the long run. Don't worry—I'm pacing myself."
His father nodded in return, reassured by the calm confidence in his son's voice.
After his herbal bath, Santoryu went to bed with a clear intention in mind—tomorrow, he would continue his training. And the next day, he followed through, sticking to the same rigorous routine he had established: early morning runs, sword drills, physical conditioning, and recovery.
Each part of the day unfolded with focused discipline. Nothing changed—except for one thing.
Without being told by the system, Santoryu made a personal addition to his sword training. Every time he practiced his sword swings or stances, he kept the third sword clenched in his mouth. He wanted to build his jaw strength, improve his grip, and condition himself for the full three-sword style. It was difficult at first, but it started to show results.
Even the system acknowledged the effort.
"Well done, Host. This kind of self-initiative will accelerate your mastery of the three-sword style."
Encouraged by the praise, Santoryu pushed forward with even more resolve.
And just like that, time began to slip by.
Days blended into weeks. The routine became his rhythm.
Before he realized it, a full month had passed.
----
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