Three days had passed since the incident at the hospital.
The official story, carefully constructed and disseminated through House Mikoto's considerable influence, blamed everything on a group of invading pirates who had attacked the inauguration, caused chaos, and massacred the Kurozumi household before fleeing the island.
The citizens accepted it. The authorities accepted it. Even those who might have suspected otherwise kept their mouths shut—after all, who would dare question the story when the alternative was admitting that a five-year-old boy had split the sky itself?
Sachiko had recovered fully, thanks to the Conqueror's healing properties and time. She remembered nothing of the attack itself, only waking up in Arlo's arms with him frantically apologizing for "not being faster."
She'd held him close and told him he was the best little brother anyone could ask for.
He'd smiled and said nothing about the eighteen souls screaming in eternal isolation within his Imaginary Space.
Now, three days later, I sat in my private quarters and contemplated my next move.
Training. I needed training.
I had power, sure. Ridiculous amounts of it, if I was being honest. But power without skill was just potential waiting to be wasted. I'd seen it in that brief clash with the assassin—my techniques were sloppy, my movements inefficient despite all the muscle memory I'd copied.
Knowing how to move and actually being able to execute those movements in real combat were two entirely different things.
Raphael, we need to discuss training protocols.
I sent the thought through our mental link.
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That's what I figured. Here's what I'm thinking—I want to create a training dimension. Something like the Hyperbolic Time Chamber from Dragon Ball. A space where time flows differently, where I can train for years in what amounts to seconds outside.
A pause. Longer than Raphael usually took to respond.
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Explain.
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<<- Reality anchoring independent of standard universal laws>>
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I felt my metaphorical shoulders slump.
So what you're saying is, we can't do it?
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Oh.
Oh.
Right. The Codex, Arlo didn't like using Codex to directly gain strength but he has no issue with using it as a medium to gain strength.
The Codex didn't need blueprints or reference data. It just needed desire strong enough to manifest reality. Proof was there Beelzebuth didn't originally possess imaginary space at the beginning Rimuru only got it after evolving it into Azathoth.
And I had plenty of desire.
Alright then. Let's do this properly.
I closed my eyes—not that I needed to, but it helped with focus—and turned my consciousness inward to where the Codex resided. That impossible star of otherworldly light pulsing in rhythm with my heartbeat.
I need a training space. A dimension separate from reality where I can practice without limitation. Where time flows at my command. Where I can summon opponents to fight, allies to spar with, scenarios to overcome. A place where failure has no consequence but lessons learned, where I can push myself beyond all limits without fear of permanent damage.
Grant me this. Give me the power to grow stronger.
The Codex pulsed.
Once. Twice. Three times, each pulse resonating through my entire being.
Then it blazed.
[[Acknowledged. Analyzing desire parameters... Structuring skill framework... Generating reality-independent subspace... Establishing temporal mechanics... Configuring manifestation protocols... Complete.]]
[[Skill: Akashic Simulation Domain acquired.]]
Information flooded my mind in a torrent that would have overwhelmed anyone without Raphael's Thought Acceleration to process it.
The skill's structure. Its capabilities. Its limitations—or rather, its distinct lack of limitations.
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I stared at the information scrolling through my consciousness.
This was... this was insane.
Raphael, this thing is basically creative mode for combat training.
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Well then.
No time like the present to test it out.
I stood up from where I'd been sitting cross-legged on my futon, stretching my small body. I was still in my five-year-old form—hadn't bothered changing size since returning from the massacre.
Activate Akashic Simulation Domain.
Reality shifted.
One moment I was in my room. The next, I stood in an endless expanse of pure white. No walls. No ceiling. No floor that I could distinguish from the void around me, yet I stood on something solid.
The silence was absolute. Peaceful.
"Whoa," I breathed aloud, my voice echoing strangely in the infinite space.
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Let's test the summoning function. I want to call someone... someone strong enough to actually challenge me but not so overwhelming I get instantly destroyed.
I thought about the various people from my memories. Goku? Too strong. Saitama? Also too strong I mean I could just get beat up and adapt but that'll be boring. The assassin I'd killed? Too weak and not worth the effort.
Then I remembered—I'd read all of Tensura up through web novel to light novel... well, before dying and ending up here. I knew about the characters. Their abilities. Their personalities.
And there was one particular character who'd make an excellent training partner.
Summon: Hinata Sakaguchi. Pre-True Hero awakening version. Full personality matrix.
The air in front of me shimmered.
Particles of light gathered, coalescing into a humanoid shape that solidified over the course of perhaps three seconds.
When the light faded, a young woman stood before me.
She has short black hair and violet eyes. She sweeps her bangs over her right eye while tucking the left side behind her ear. Sharp eyes that held intelligence and lethal focus. She wore light armor—black with silver accents—and at her hip rested a sword that radiated subtle power.
Hinata Sakaguchi. The Strongest Knight of the West. One of Shizu-san's students who'd gone on to become a legendary figure in her own right.
She blinked, taking in her surroundings with the practiced assessment of a seasoned warrior. Her hand moved instinctively to her sword hilt.
"Where—" she started, then stopped as her gaze fell on me.
I saw the moment understanding dawned in her eyes. Saw her posture shift from combat-ready to something more contemplative.
"I see," she said slowly, voice carrying that distinctive quality I remembered from descriptions—neither fully masculine nor feminine, young nor old. "I'm not real. I'm a copy. A simulation."
She's aware. Good. Makes this less awkward.
"That's right," I confirmed, keeping my voice friendly. "You're a Mirror Echo summoned by my training skill. You have all the memories, personality, and abilities of Hinata Sakaguchi as she existed before awakening as a True Hero."
She studied me for a long moment, and I could practically see the calculations running behind her eyes.
"You're the summoner then," she stated rather than asked. "A child? No... you're not a normal child. That presence..." Her eyes narrowed. "What are you?"
"Arlo Mikoto. Nice to meet you, Hinata-san!" I gave her my best smile—the innocent, cheerful expression that Sachiko always said made me look adorable.
The effect was immediate and unexpected.
Hinata's eyes widened fractionally. A faint pink tinge colored her cheeks. She actually took a half-step back, one hand rising as if to shield herself from some attack.
Thump.
I swear I could hear it—the sound of an imaginary arrow piercing straight through her heart.
"That's..." she muttered, looking away quickly. "That's unfair. You can't just smile like that. It's... it's a violation of some kind of rule."
I blinked in surprise.
Did I just accidentally use some kind of cuteness attack? Is that a thing?
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Huh. Neat.
"Sorry about that, Hinata-nee," I said, trying to sound apologetic but probably just making it worse based on how her blush deepened. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
"Hinata-nee?" she repeated, and there was something almost soft in her voice. "You're calling me 'older sister'?"
"Well, you're older than me and I'm hoping we can be friends through training together, so..." I shrugged. "Is that okay?"
She was quiet for a moment, then released a breath that seemed to carry years of tension.
"...That's fine. You can call me whatever you want." She straightened, and I saw her shift back into warrior mode—though the faint pink hadn't entirely left her cheeks. "So. You summoned me for training. What kind of training?"
"Combat practice. Swordsmanship specifically." I materialized Ame no Ohabari from my shadow, the long katana appearing in my small hands with comfortable familiarity. "I have the techniques and muscle memory copied from legendary swordsmen, but I lack actual experience. I need someone who can push me without killing me."
Hinata's expression sharpened with interest as she examined my blade.
"That's... a strong alloy. High purity. Excellent craftsmanship." Her eyes met mine. "And you're how old?"
"Five."
"...Five years old with a katana like that and summoning abilities that can create perfect copies of people from other worlds." She shook her head slowly. "This world just gets stranger."
Wait, does she think she's still in the same world? Oh right, I pulled her from Tensura. This must be confusing for her.
"Actually, you're from a different world than this one," I clarified. "The world of Tensura or Cardinal world. I have... knowledge of it. That's how I knew to summon you specifically."
Her eyes widened in genuine shock. "You can pull people from across dimensional boundaries for training?"
"Not people just there mirrored copies.....an Echo"
"That's..." She trailed off, then actually laughed—a short, genuine sound. "That's terrifying, is what that is. The implications alone..."
She drew her own sword—a standard longsword that shimmered with the telltale signs of magisteel construction. Unique-grade quality, I noted. Good enough for serious practice.
"Alright, Arlo," she said, falling into a ready stance that spoke of thousands of hours of training. "Show me what you've got. I'll start with just basic swordsmanship—no skills, no special techniques. Let's see how much of that copied muscle memory you can actually use."
I dropped into my own stance, drawing on the techniques I'd absorbed from Rocks D. Xebec, King Harald, and Shimotsuki Ryuma. My grip on Ame no Ohabari was perfect, my posture textbook.
"Ready when you are, Hinata-nee."
She moved.
Fast.
I barely managed to raise my blade in time to catch her first strike, the impact sending vibrations down my arms. She was testing me, I realized—that hadn't been a full-power attack.
I pushed back and tried a counter, aiming for her shoulder with a technique from Ryuma's repertoire.
She deflected it effortlessly, sword moving in a tight circle that redirected my blade away before stepping in close to threaten my guard.
I backpedaled, using my smaller size to duck under her follow-up slash, and tried to sweep at her legs.
She jumped over it, already bringing her sword down in an overhead strike that I had to roll away from to avoid.
"Good instincts," she commented, pressing forward with a combination of cuts that had me purely on the defensive. "Your technique is solid. The fundamentals are there. But you're thinking too much. Trying to remember what to do instead of just doing it."
She was right. I could feel it—the disconnect between knowing what movement should come next and actually executing it smoothly.
This is exactly why I needed this.
We continued for what felt like ten minutes, Hinata gradually increasing her speed and complexity while I struggled to keep up. I was getting better—I could feel the muscle memory starting to integrate more naturally—but the gap between us was still enormous.
"Alright," Hinata said, pulling back and lowering her sword. "You've got potential. A lot of it. But you need more pressure to really grow."
She looked at me expectantly.
Right. I could adjust her parameters whenever I wanted.
Raphael, upgrade Hinata to her full pre-True Hero strength. All skills active.
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Hinata's presence immediately intensified.
Her stance didn't change visibly, but suddenly the air around her felt heavier. More dangerous. I could sense it with my Observation Haki—her power had increased dramatically.
"Oh," she said, eyes widening as she felt the change ripple through her body. "Oh, that's... interesting. I can feel everything. All my skills. Full access, before I became True hero."
She looked at me with new appreciation. "You really can manipulate everything about us, can't you?"
"Yep. So don't hold back anymore, Hinata-nee. Show me what you've really got."
A smile crossed her face—not cruel, but definitely predatory.
"As you wish."
She vanished.
My Observation Haki screamed warning. I threw myself to the side just as her blade carved through the space where I'd been standing, moving so fast it left afterimages.
Holy shit she's fast!
I barely got Ame no Ohabari up in time to block her next strike, and the impact nearly tore the sword from my hands. She was strong too—far beyond what I'd expected.
But instead of fear, I felt my lips pulling into a grin.
This is it. This is what I needed.
I pushed back against her blade and tried to disengage, but she was already flowing into her next attack—a precise thrust aimed at my heart that I had to twist my entire body to avoid.
Sparks flew as our blades clashed again and again, the sharp ring of metal on metal echoing through the white void.
Hinata was using actual techniques now—I could see the Holy Knight sword style she'd mastered, combined with her unique adaptations. Every strike had purpose. Every movement was efficient. There was no wasted motion.
I tried to match her, drawing on everything I'd copied, but it wasn't enough. She was faster. Stronger. More experienced.
A slash caught me across the shoulder—shallow, but it would've been debilitating in a real fight.
I felt the sting of pain, then pushed through it. This was training. Pain was just information. But at the instant adaptation started to kick in, I don't know if it was my imagination but I saw a Wheel spinning. Immediately I healed, I felt as if that attack struck me again It wouldn't do anything.
I activated Armament Haki, coating my blade in that invisible force, and tried a technique from Rocks—a heavy overhead strike with enough force to crack stone.
Hinata blocked it with one hand, her own blade wreathed in what I recognized as her Spirit Magic enhancement.
The collision created a shockwave that rippled through the domain.
We disengaged, both breathing hard.
Well, I was breathing hard. Hinata looked barely winded.
"Better," she acknowledged. "You're starting to trust your body instead of overthinking. But you're still too linear. Too predictable."
She came at me again, and this time I saw it—the opening in her guard that appeared for just a fraction of a second.
I took it, driving forward with a thrust that should've connected.
Should've.
Hinata twisted impossibly, my blade passing harmlessly by her side, and her counter-strike caught me across the ribs.
I stumbled back, definitely feeling that one but still not strong enough to kickstart the adaptation to nullify the future similar attacks.
"Feints exist, you know," she said with a slight smirk. "Just because there's an opening doesn't mean it's real."
She baited me. Damn.
But I was grinning despite the pain. This was exactly what I needed. Someone who could push me. Someone who could punish my mistakes. Someone who could teach me through combat in a way that copied techniques never could.
"Again," I said, raising my blade.
Hinata's smirk widened into a genuine smile.
"With pleasure."
We clashed once more, and the white void filled with the sound of ringing steel, flashing blades, and the determined laughter of a five-year-old boy who'd finally found what he'd been looking for.
A teacher. A challenge. A path forward.
End of Chapter 12
Next: Training continues. Arlo discovers new limits to push.