"FASTER" The Horrendous sound of The Husk's voice bellowed through the cave. "If you want to master this weapon, then you'll need to be able to hit me no matter where I appear." The Husk's voice escaped from every shadow to confuse The Girl's senses.

"I'm trying. You don't make it easy." The Girl's labored breaths barely let her speak, but she still found the energy to complain.

The Husk hadn't lied. Over the past four years, it had taught The Girl about every weapon she could possibly imagine, and even some she couldn't, even if it didn't use the most evident teaching method.

Every night she returned to the cave, and every night she fought The Husk with whatever weapon she found at the entrance. Never the same weapon twice in a row and never any explanation of what the weapon was before the battle started. Information had to be earned through struggle, provided by The Husk, after she successfully landed a hit. With each successful attack by The Girl, The Husk increased the difficulty, forcing The Girl to adapt or risk substantial injury because The Husk had never shied away from causing The Girl harm during training.

The Injuries weren't permanent. They'd always vanish by the next morning. The Husk wouldn't end the fight even if her limbs ended up broken, or her eyes stopped working. The lesson was simple. In actual combat, The Girl wouldn't have the luxury of treating her wounds until her opponent was dealt with or she'd gotten away from the fight itself. So, she had to fight, with broken bones, lacerations, head trauma, and everything in between.

At first, The Girl hated the training. She thought that The Husk was playing around. It was tormenting her in some unique way before finally one day deciding to kill her. That changed when the first weapons, a simple one-handed short sword, showed up a second time. That night, The Girl learned that what The Husk had been teaching her was what she thought would be the last thing she'd learn, the ability to pick up any weapon and use it immediately.

Every weapon was a unique challenge. No two were the same. What The Girl had to learn, was that in order to survive and learn anything of value, she had to adapt to those differences, small and large, within seconds of picking up the weapon. Use what she knew from prior experience, with similar, but still different weapons, and change to fit the unique points of the current one. Understand that, while possible to use a staff and a spear in the same way, the true potential of the weapons lies in the differences, not the similarities.

Tonight she'd found two daggers waiting for her. This particular weapon was one she'd used several times already, meaning The Husk wasn't going to coddle her. The Husk would attack The Girl from every angle, force her to predict where and when the opponent would appear, and strike without remorse, or risk taking a blow that would likely end training for the night. It would use the full might of its terror-inducing voice to confuse her, trick her. Move from shadow to shadow faster than anything else ever could. If The Girl failed to predict where it was going to come from, she'd better react quickly enough to deflect the coming blow or wake up tomorrow without learning anything more tonight.

The next time The Husk appeared from the shadows, The Girl was prepared. She spun to face it with as much speed as she could muster. With her left hand, she slashed out intending to land a blow on The Husk, and with her left, she prepared to deflect The Husk's blow, in case she missed hers. But The Husk didn't strike. Instead, The Husk grabbed the dagger thrust toward it, and spoke.

"It appears this is the limit of this line of training." The Husk rasped while taking the twin daggers from The Girl.

"What do you mean? I can keep going. I can be stronger." The Girl thought that The Husk was saying that it would no longer train her, but its next words erased that fear.

"Yes, you can grow stronger, and I will teach you so that you do. But, the current method will only produce marginal growth from this point onward." The Husk seemed to let the dagger sink into its hands while speaking. After the blades entirely vanished from sight, the area around The Husks open hand distorted disgustingly. Space seemed to twist and turn to leave a gaping hole that lead to somewhere before everything returned to normal with a book now in the hand of The Husk. "Read this." The Husk tossed the book to The Girl. "It contains a comprehensive guide on how to move spirit without the assistance of a class and some basic weapon arts."

The Girl looked over the book. At first glance, it was an ordinary leather-bound book with gold inlay in its cover. Upon further inspection, The Girl noticed that the paper wasn't paper; it was too coarse, the weave of the plant used to make the page still visible. The Ink didn't seem to be normal either. It felt waxy, slick, and cool to the touch, adding texture to the page because it rested on the surface instead of permeating the fibers. Even with that, the contents were the most exciting part. The Girl was never really a reader, but the book's author seemed to write each section so that even the dumbest person could comprehend what was said, as long as they read from beginning to end.

"Why didn't we start with this?" The Girl asked curiously after skimming the pages.

"I wanted to know how strong someone could become with weapons without the assistance of spirit. You have demonstrated to me that such a person would be formidable but restricted." The Husk sat down on the floor of the cave. "Besides, the contents of that book would have hindered you. That book only has about twenty of the most common weapons types listed in its pages." The Husk gestured to the book. "I told you I would teach you to use any weapon; that book would have set you on a path to use only a few." The Husk's flat face didn't show any emotion, but something about its terror-inducing voice was different, but The Girl couldn't tell what. "Go home for tonight. Read what you can, and tomorrow, show me what you managed to learn."

The Girl trusted The Husk. She believed that she understood it to some degree, that having spent four years with it allowed her some small view into the inner workings of The Husk's mind. But, right now, The Girl couldn't tell what The Husk was thinking it all. Its dismissals were often far more abrupt, more of a waking up the next morning without any memory of how she got home, less being sent back on her own. Even with that trust, The Girl lacked the courage to pry into what The Husk was feeling at that moment.

The Girl walked home with a heavy heart that night. She couldn't tell if she thought The Husk was disappointed in her for amounting to so little strength without the knowledge in the book, or if she was disappointed in herself for being unable to act when something seemed off about the situation. Whatever the feeling was, The Girl vowed never to let herself feel it again.

The next day, she examined the teachings in the book with excruciating detail. She was dedicated to the idea of returning to The Husk that night fully capable of utilizing spirit.