No Bird Flies in a Cage
Maybe it was because I'd pushed way too hard right after awakening my aura.
I ended up blacking out.
How much time had passed?
When I finally pried my eyes open, the sun had already set, and night had fallen in darkness.
- Crackle.Crackle.
The bonfire blazed up.
The steady sound of wood burning away.
The warm heat radiating from it seemed to melt away the tension I'd been carrying.
I'd mentioned it once when I collapsed from exhaustion on vacation, but up until now, I'd never truly rested—not even once.
It felt like I'd always been doing something my whole life.
Sure, after finishing a commission, the mercenary company gave us downtime to rest, but I'd always spent that time honing my sword skills or helping out the villagers.
I'm not saying this to paint myself as some saint or workaholic.
It's just... yeah, it gave me a sense of accomplishment, and I enjoyed it.
But what can I say...
It just felt like something I had to do.
Anyway, because I'd lived like that, just lying here quietly by the bonfire felt utterly foreign to me.
"You've come around."
As I lay on the ground staring blankly at the flames, a familiar voice sounded from behind me.
"!!!!"
My dazed mind snapped awake in an instant.
"Ugh."
I tried to twist my waist to look at the Old Man, but the aftermath of fighting those monkey bastards was still messing with my movements.
It felt like sparks were shooting through my whole body, like severe muscle cramps everywhere.
It was bearable, though.
But if I left it like this, I couldn't guarantee when my body would recover.
Then,
- Poke!
The Old Man jabbed here and there on my back with his fingertips.
"Aaaack!!!!!!!"
I couldn't hold back and let out a scream from the sudden pain.
But the old bastard didn't care—he just kept poking my back with his fingers.
Crazy old fuck! Crazy old fuck!!!!!! Shit!!!!!!!!!!!
I... I'm losing it?!?!?!?
Fuck, I'm seriously gonna die!!!!!!
"Huff. Huff..."
It wasn't some amazing technique from the Old Man...
Wait, huh? My body feels kinda light now?
The Old Man ignored my bewildered reaction completely and walked around to my other side, sitting down on a fallen log like it was a chair.
"Right after awakening your aura, if you push your body to the limit, the circuits inside become extremely sensitive to it. At that moment, if you circulate your aura or have a circulation method injected, you can experience explosive growth in every aspect—quality, extraction speed, everything."
Listening to the Old Man, I finally understood why my body felt lighter.
I clenched and unclenched my fist; I could definitely feel the aura racing through me much faster now.
"The golden time is six hours after awakening your aura. Doing it right away has the best effect."
Hm?
Another question popped into my head as I listened to his explanation.
"Wasn't it a while after the fight? Feels like more than six hours have passed, no?"
It had been daytime when I fought the monkeys and collapsed.
Now it was night.
Based on the sun's position I'd checked before entering the forest, calculating the time now... yeah, definitely more than six hours.
"I did it the moment you collapsed, so no need to worry. I'd been waiting for you to awaken your aura anyway."
"What? So you deliberately didn't save me when those bastards had me on the ropes?"
"......"
The Old Man fell silent at my question.
Letting someone get pushed to the brink of death on purpose—what kind of bullshit was that?
Up until now, I'd half-jokingly called him an old bastard, but this? This made him a real piece of shit.
Sure, thanks to that judgment call, I'd awakened my aura, but that's hindsight thinking.
What if I hadn't awakened it and just died?
There were plenty of other ways to teach me aura without this crap.
Maybe reading the resentment and disgust in my eyes, after a brief hesitation, the Old Man justified his actions.
"Can a bird trapped in a cage ever truly fly?"
"??"
I was seriously annoyed by him starting up with more cryptic nonsense, but I decided to hear him out to the end.
"Most birds will never fly until they die. No space to practice, no teacher to guide them. No talent, no desperation."
Listening a bit more, I started getting the picture.
The bird was probably someone aspiring to be a martial artist, and the cage was something like the Caliseo Wall I'd lived within.
For someone who'd never left home, their cage would be their house.
For someone who'd hunted beasts in the nearby woods, it would be those woods.
Flying probably meant growth.
Or reaching a certain realm.
"Of course, some birds are different. They might have a good teacher to pass on experience and knowledge, or even without desperation, sheer innate talent might let them fly a little."
It was a case I'd seen more often than you'd think during my mercenary days.
Once, some noble's son begged to tag along on a commission.
Our captain tried his best to dissuade him, but in the end, he reluctantly allowed it under the noble's authority.
On the day of the commission,
The noble kid showed up with this burly, jovial middle-aged guy who looked tough as nails.
From his presence, I could tell the guy was a bit stronger than me.
Every time the fully geared noble swung his weapon, the middle-aged guy would chime in with tips like "In this situation, you do this" or "There, you'd handle it like that," giving endless advice.
I wondered what the point was, but damn if his skills didn't improve anyway.
And finally,
People with talent.
That was me.
Embarrassing to say it myself, but around Rotten, there weren't many stronger than me.
Especially not in my age group.
"But if you ask whether that's truly flying, the answer is no. To fly, you need desperation and blood-soaked effort. Humans survive desperate life-or-death struggles and grow through them."
- Crackle.
The wood burned brighter.
It blackened slowly, crumbling away.
And so, the bonfire blazed even hotter and brighter.
"You needed a trigger. A chance to break out of your cage and grow. Those monkeys you met today were the first real wall for someone who'd been coasting in comfort until now. Meeting that wall sparked a burning will to overcome it, and your potential responded—that's your aura."
The Old Man finished his explanation and fell silent again.
The bonfire flames flickered.
If you're not prepared to lose something, you gain nothing.
Humans are greedy; we always want it all.
This and that.
We whine and throw tantrums about why we have to give something up.
But the older you get, the more you live in this world, the more you realize you can't keep living like that forever.
Today, I'd definitely grown one layer more adult.
Because I'd lost the ability to settle in comfort.
Turning your home into a cage and spending your remaining days there is one way to live, sure.
But I've realized that leads to quietly drowning without even noticing.
That realization has become a curse for me.
How could I choose quiet drowning?
No—better to burn brightly in agony and vanish.
And I hope those flames bring comfort and warmth to someone.
Like the peace the bonfire gave me.
Morning broke.
The Old Man and I set off again.
Similar things kept happening as yesterday.
Whenever we encountered new beasts, he'd give a brief rundown.
That one's a stone golem; its core is whatever.
That one's a massive bird beast called a Sturaco; their ecology is this and that.
The moment he finished explaining, the beasts charged—like they'd been waiting.
At me only.
This is so fucking unfair!!!!!!!!!!!
I grumbled "shit shit" under my breath but swung my sword anyway.
I'd never heard of training disciples like this.
Usually, it's physical conditioning first, then building basics.
Learning forms and techniques from the master, repeating until mastery.
That's what I'd always heard.
Not shoving your disciple into the jaws of death.
Not setting up aerial dates with flying beasts and not even saving them on the fall.
Just... overall, it was total bullshit.
But the funny thing was,
My skills were improving, fuck it.
In those desperate moments, my life flashed before my eyes a few times,
And in the process, I found ways to survive.
Adapting to situations, swinging my sword with grit and malice just to not die—it boosted my stamina and refined my swordsmanship, but the biggest gain was
- Crunch.
There you are.
"Kweeeek!"
My senses.
Before, I'd relied on my five senses to track enemies.
Prime example: the ghost monkeys.
Chasing shadows with my eyes had given me hell.
But now? Different story.
It felt like I'd gained a sixth sense, sort of.
"Beasts are cunning. Don't box them into human common sense. Always assume the worst-case scenario. Never take even a 1% chance lightly."
The Old Man's words were always spot on.
Unlike the ghost monkeys, there was a beast whose form was visible—but fake.
Its real body hid somewhere transparent.
Called an Illusion—what the actual fuck kind of thing is that?
The opposite case too.
Once, facing a new beast, I froze and waited.
What's this asshole's bullshit pattern gonna be?
Is that visible form just a bluff like the Illusion fucker?
While thinking that, I ended up...
"Sh-it."
Taking a hit from the beast.
Turns out, that one specialized in speed; it attacks if you stay still too long.
Dodges if you twitch even a little.
Total bullshit luck.
Good thing, though: as long as I survived somehow, I'd wake up the next day with wounds fully healed.
Probably the Old Man's doing.
Damn impressive old guy, even on second look.
But that's that...
How long do I have to keep this up?
Didn't that old bastard promise to teach me his sword style?
Why am I the only one busting my ass??