I couldn't afford any interruptions while I trained, so I set out to find a reasonably safe location.
I didn't expect that 'reasonable' search to take three full days, but since I eventually found a spot devoid of Hollows, I wasn't in much of a position to complain.
Where is this safe haven, free from the threat of Hollows? It is a barren wasteland where I am the only thing left alive.
At first, I was restless, constantly looking over my shoulder to see if a Hollow was stalking me. But after spending half a day here, I understood. I realized why they weren't coming.
There is nothing here for a Hollow to eat. That is to say, there are no living humans or souls in this place.
With food scattered everywhere else, there wasn't a single madman among them who would bother trekking all the way out to these desolate outskirts just to devour me.
Of course, if some freak with a relentless obsession actually did show up... well, I'd just have to die. What else could I do?
That kind of lunatic isn't the type you can just shake off once they've set their sights on you.
"...."
Anyway, having secured a safe zone, I immediately threw myself into training.
Though I call it 'training,' it was nothing more than gripping a thick tree branch with both hands and swinging it with everything I had.
Inspired by the legendary ten thousand punches of gratitude, I began my own ten thousand daily swings—albeit with a sword and a complete lack of gratitude.
Contrary to the grandiosity of the start, I failed miserably.
The primary reason was simple: my body and mind couldn't withstand the sheer insanity of the task.
Some might ask how hard it could possibly be to swing a oversized branch, especially since it wasn't even a real sword, but those people have no idea.
Don't take my word for it. Go stand in one spot and swing just a thousand times.
I guarantee that before you finish, you'll be screaming, 'Ah, this is absolute madness. Only a true psycho could do this!'
'I feel like my forearms are going to explode...'
When I first picked up the wooden stick, I thought it would be a breeze. But after hitting the 1,500-swing mark, my mind changed on its own.
My arms were trembling, the skin on my palms felt like it was peeling back, and my shoulders felt like they were being pulverized. To top it off, I was so out of breath I felt like I was going to choke.
It felt like two or three hours had passed, but in reality, it hadn't even been one. Just as I thought I must have surely reached ten thousand, I realized I'd barely scraped past a thousand. In that moment, my motivation plummeted straight through the floor and into the abyss.
If I'm in this state after a mere thousand swings, how was I supposed to reach ten thousand? And I was supposed to do each one with perfect form and a heart full of gratitude? Ten times what I had just done?
You truly cannot pull this off unless you possess an inhuman level of willpower. That's why I failed. Because my willpower is strictly average.
Unless you're obsessed with the blade, obsessed with power, or have a crazy person standing over you, this training regimen is impossible.
"...I'm gonna die. Seriously."
Ah, wait. Had I already died?
Seeing as there isn't a chain embedded in my chest, I might actually still be alive.
Lost in idle thought, I exhaled a heavy sigh from the depths of my gut and collapsed flat onto the ground.
This was the safe zone I'd found after running for my life from those Hollows. Knowing there was no need to worry about them here, the anxiety didn't even register.
I stared blankly at the sky for a while before rolling onto my side, using my arm as a pillow.
In my line of sight lay the wooden stick, discarded on the dirt.
Suddenly, a sense of injustice washed over me.
'It's strange... In manga and novels, everyone makes it look so easy. Why is it only me who can't do it...?'
...Wait, come to think of it, those characters suffered like hell to get where they were.
Take that old man with the Hyakushiki Kannon. When he first started, he spent the entire day doing nothing but punching. Considering that, my failure was only natural.
Besides, that old man was a master martial artist long before he started that training.
Me? I'm just an ordinary guy with nothing to my name.
'It's only natural to fail.'
That thought brought me peace, but it also sparked a flicker of stubbornness.
Was I really going to give up like this? Since I'd already started, shouldn't I at least see it through to the end? That kind of prideful stubbornness.
"Sigh..."
But even with that stubbornness, what could I do? What was I capable of?
My body would break before I ever reached ten thousand. What else could I do besides roll around on the ground in frustration?
After blinking at the tree branch for a few moments, I braced my hands against the ground and slowly pushed myself up.
"...I can do something, at least."
It's too painful to aim for ten thousand right away. Let's just try to hit two thousand for now.
I can increase the count slowly later on.
After all, the one thing I have plenty of is time.
Whether it takes a year, two years, or ten, I'll reach ten thousand swings a day eventually.
Let's play the long game. Let's be patient.
Having reached a compromise with myself, I stood up and gripped the wooden stick once more.