The Poet's System
Chapter 78: Asaemon

Chapter 78: Asaemon

"Why are you such an ungrateful bastard? Do you really think you passed your fate trial on your own strength?" Pry snarled at Daylan.

"Think about it... even with the strength you have now, climbing up and down a mountain for a whole week would’ve taken a serious toll on you."

Daylan wore an annoyed sneer. "I think the real question is why you hate me so much."

Pry lunged at Daylan, swinging her claws, but before she could strike, Medora caught her in midair.

She turned to Daylan, who sat shirtless in the center of the vast training room, meditating as sweat drenched his body.

"And you—I don’t think you’re being very nice to Pry. She’s centuries older than you, you know?"

Her words stung Pry as she forced herself free from Medora’s grasp. "If your way of supporting me is insulting me, then stop. Just so you know, I’m still twenty-one. I never age."

It was still dawn, and aside from their voices, the only sound was the wind brushing against the trees, stirring the forest fog into beautiful waves.

The Blind Prophet woke everyone around 2:00 a.m. The path ahead—especially for Daylan—wasn’t one they could afford to rest on. From that day forward, they were allowed only four hours of sleep each night.

Even then, how long it would take Daylan to gain the strength to overcome his system would depend entirely on how quickly he could grow.

Daylan continued to meditate. Though he was occasionally distracted, he maintained an impactful rhythm. Meanwhile, Medora practiced her swordwork a short distance away—far enough not to disturb him.

Their first training session of the day lasted four hours, ending exactly at 6:00 a.m.

Daylan remained seated on the floor, watching as Medora panted heavily. Her palms trembled, and her body was flushed red with exertion.

"How?" She muttered. "My sword was heavier than it should be."

Daylan turned to her and shrugged.

At that exact moment, Blind—who had gone back to sleep right after waking them and giving them their tasks—strolled into the training hall in his pajamas, sipping a cup of coffee.

"You two look exhausted," Blind teased. Medora rolled her eyes, still struggling to catch her breath.

"Trust me, you’ll start enjoying this as time goes on," Blind said, turning to Medora. "Just so you know, you need this as much as he does."

Daylan’s expression darkened. "Why? I thought I had to do everything alone."

"Yes. But that doesn’t mean she has to stay weak, does it?"

He turned and began walking out of the room. "You’ve got only an hour to rest. Find something to eat."

Daylan and Medora exchanged looks before heading out of the room. The hour slipped by like a minute—barely noticed—until Asaemon was calling them back to the training hall.

This time, the Blind Prophet wore a training uniform—a crisp white outfit with a black belt tightly secured around his waist.

The moment they arrived, he told them to take their seats on the floor. He paced back and forth before finally turning to them.

"Can any of you guess how I can still see, despite being blind?"

Daylan hurried his words. "I’ve thought about that for a while—yesterday and the first day I read your book. I was puzzled. How can a blind man write a book, and even worse, read one? That’s when I finally realized—I don’t know."

Both Blind and Medora slapped their foreheads in disbelief and disappointment, while Asaemon stood nearby laughing.

Blind took a deep breath. "If someone who possesses all three abilities—luck, worth, and fate—doesn’t learn to use them properly, they might as well be dead. Their lives become more miserable than those of misfits."

He began pacing back and forth, hands folded behind his back. "The same applies to those who learn to use them properly. They begin to live like gods, though, at the prodigy level, they can still hold their own."

He gestured toward Pry, who was fast asleep on the floor. "Take Ranveer as an example. She wasn’t a prodigy, but she worked her way through, always eager to learn more.

By seventeen, she had passed all her trials, and by twenty-one, she was so strong she had to be restrained to prevent her from shaking the balance of the world. That’s how she became the Ascendant of Pry. An incredible feat, isn’t it?"

Daylan’s expression darkened. "Is she really that strong?"

Blind smirked. "Exactly. As the fifth member of the Vital Five, I spent seven years in my mother’s womb. I had to pass all my trials there... yes, as a senseless baby. It cost me my eyesight, but even so, I was born with all my abilities fully under control."

Medora outstretched her hands, stopping him. "What? Seven years? And no one even told us you took your trials in the womb—or what happened to your mother?"

"Well, these aren’t things they teach in schools or at home. And my mother died three years before I was born." He paused, letting it sink in, then took a deep breath. "She was held at the Adrian Stage at the church until I was born."

A brief silence filled the room, though neither Blind nor Asaemon seemed bothered. The agony of carrying a child for four years without ever seeing what they looked like—or feeling the softness of their skin—was a pain no mother wanted to endure. And Medora was no exception.

Daylan, however, wondered—was it the mother’s fate, the child’s, or both?

Blind sighed. "What I’m trying to say is this: to use your abilities properly, they have to be united as one. It doesn’t matter if you possess all three or just two."

Daylan gave him a confused look. "You conquered your system in the womb?"

"Yes. Asaemon did too. That’s what it means to be a Vital."

Daylan opened his mouth to ask another question, but Blind stopped him.

"All my three abilities are combined into one: imagination. And it is through imagination that I live."

"Can we see your other self? The system?"

He smirked and shook his head. "No."

"This is a feat you, Medora, must reach before you leave. It won’t be easy, and you’ll have to do everything differently from what Daylan does since you’ll need yours early.

But Daylan... he’ll have to learn most of what I’m teaching you during his face-off with his system."

He took a deep breath. "Daylan, you’ll be training with Asaemon. Your first training ends the moment you defeat him, maybe—Asaemon, not Spirit. And you, Medora, come with me."

Daylan glanced at Asaemon’s smaller frame and smirked as Medora and Asaemon headed toward the forest.

The moment they stepped out of the room before Daylan could even rise, he felt something like tentacles wrap around his neck. Water followed, suffocating him. It was as if he were being pulled deep into the ocean—yet there was no water.

In that brief moment, Daylan turned his head to see Asaemon’s eyes glowing blue—just like the tattoos on his body when he transformed into Spirit.

He could barely murmur a word as he sank deeper into the ocean with every second. His body grew cold, and his vision blurred. But just before he passed out, the sinking sensation vanished—though the tentacles remained tightly wrapped around his neck, tightening by the minute.

The next thing he felt was being suspended midair for a brief moment—then he was slammed into the floor.

Pain shot through his spine as he yelled in agony, but he didn’t linger on it. Massaging his neck, he forced himself to his feet.

Asaemon stood a short distance away, his glowing blue eyes fixed on Daylan as he waited patiently—almost as if he was giving Daylan the advantage of attacking first.

Daylan gritted his teeth, activated Dark Spiral, and dashed forward toward Asaemon. But out of nowhere, something struck him, sending him sliding backward on his feet.

This kid!

He tried to close the distance again, but the sensation of being dropped into the ocean hit him once more. He stood frozen, yet every inch of his senses screamed to swim.

He acted, and though he didn’t know how, he began swinging his arms through the air, struggling to catch his breath. Before he could recover, he was slammed into the ground once more.

I’m not even getting close. What the fuck?

Daylan clutched his head and rose to his feet. Right now, just getting close enough to land a strike was all that mattered—he couldn’t afford to be dragged into the darkness.

He summoned his dagger and dashed forward. Just as he was within reach, he launched it at the only lantern in the room, plunging it into darkness.

He smirked and prepared to move, but before he could even imagine stepping into the darkness, the room flooded with blue light—as if they were submerged in the middle of the sea.

Before Daylan could take another step, a shark appeared, swimming straight toward him. He looked perplexed, struggling to make sense of what was happening.

Just as Daylan focused on the shark, Asaemon appeared before him, hand resting on his chest, his blue eyes calmly locking with Daylan’s gray ones. With a slight push—so light it could barely open a door—Daylan was slammed, crashing into the ground.

Daylan lay there, struggling to move as his vision blurred. He saw Asaemon approach but didn’t have the strength to lift a finger. Before he knew it, he was out cold.