A few minutes later.

After a fierce, unyielding struggle, Moen finally exhausted the last ounce of his strength, collapsing to the ground like a boneless heap.

His once blond hair now looked like a chaotic mess, akin to the edgy style of a rebellious teenager.

And yet, Teacher Mela was once again sitting elegantly atop him, picking at the fruit on her plate with the delicate flick of a toothpick in her hand.

“Not bad, kid. Three minutes and five seconds—better than I expected.”

“…”

Moen, his face numb and lifeless, turned his head to glance at the slender toothpick in Teacher Mela’s hand. Fear glimmered in the depths of his eyes.

Never had he thought that an ordinary toothpick could unleash such terrifying power in the hands of Teacher Mela.

He could sense how fragile the toothpick was.

He could tell Teacher Mela hadn’t infused it with much battle aura, nor had she used any significant amount of physical power.

And yet, he knew she had merely employed *Thunder*—a basic technique.

But that simple *Thunder*, wielded by her, transformed into something entirely different.

*Thunder, Thunder.*

What was once just a vibration akin to the roar of thunder had, under her execution, evolved into the embodiment of countless roaring lightning strikes.

Even now, Moen could vividly recall the moment when he gripped his dagger, Elizabeth, and clashed with that toothpick—the overwhelming sensation that he was being struck by a thousand bolts of lightning all at once.

But it wasn’t real lightning.

*Thunder* was merely a basic combat technique, entirely devoid of elemental attributes. Its essence lay in the shockwaves generated by physical or battle aura vibrations.

So how could such simple shockwaves exhibit such vastly different levels of power?

Was Teacher Mela’s so-called “slight improvement” truly so unimaginably terrifying?

“Heh…”

Mela seemed to have seen through Moen’s confusion, but she didn’t answer directly. Instead, she asked:

“Kid, do you know what your current weakness is?”

“Weakness?”

Moen struggled to catch his breath and thought carefully. “My techniques are too simplistic? One-trick pony? Lack of powerful combat arts?”

In truth, he didn’t need much introspection—these weaknesses had long been apparent to him ever since his confrontation with that banshee, a being who surpassed him by a monumental margin.

The abilities at his disposal were few: Shadow Step, dagger-based fighting style that had evolved into his personal blade technique, and Thunder. Beyond that, nothing.

Hence, a one-trick pony.

While his three core techniques were generally sufficient against foes on a similar level, the flaw became glaringly apparent when facing an opponent with overwhelming strength or skill.

“Well, well. At least you have a clear understanding of your current situation.”

Mela cast Moen a surprised glance and said, “But in my opinion, your core problem wasn't that.”

“It’s… not?”

Moen frowned in puzzlement.

“Combat skills aren’t about quantity; they’re about suitability. Your footwork and blade techniques are well-suited to you, demonstrating your ability to slow time and maximize that unique feature. Therefore, for you, they’re the best fit.”

“Even your so-called *Thunder*…”

Mela gestured with her small hand. “It’s got a short wind-up, bursts with rapid precision, and carries an element of surprise. It can disrupt many skills or spells. For someone like you, it’s an exceptionally versatile move.

“However—”

Mela’s tone shifted. “Among all of your techniques—your so-called ‘three tricks’—none of them address one aspect.”

“One aspect?”

“That’s right—overcoming raw strength with raw strength.”

“Over… power?”

Moen couldn’t help but frown harder. He was puzzled.

Until now, he had firmly tread the path of a quick, precise, fearless mad-dog assassin, embracing his agile movements and ferocious strikes as his defining traits.

To suddenly pivot to meeting strength with strength… wasn’t that a bit…

“A bit against the grain?”

Mela’s voice cut through his thoughts, accompanied by a sardonic laugh.

“Think about it carefully. What kind of scenarios have you most often found yourself in disadvantage?”

“In disadvantage…?”

Moen automatically began to reflect.

Moments later, his eyes lit up with sudden realization.

It wasn’t hard to figure out. After all, direct confrontations with enemies hadn’t happened all that often.

And every single disadvantage he faced was due to—

“Forced direct clashes… when my strength fell short, leaving me helpless?”

“...Exactly.”

“That’s it. No matter how fast you are, no matter how intricate your footwork or how exceptional *Clock of Eternity* is, there will inevitably be times when you have to confront opponents directly or when your advantages cannot shine.

“Like right now.”

Mela clapped her hands softly.

Suddenly.

Moen felt Mela’s petite form atop him become incomparably heavy, as though a mountain had descended upon his chest.

Caught off guard, Moen nearly blacked out from the pressure.

“See? In a scenario like this, which of your ‘three tricks’ would work?”

Mela lowered her gaze, staring at Moen’s reddened face with a teasing smile.

“But…”

Moen managed to suck in a deep breath, barely regaining his composure under the crushing lolicon-weight. Clenching his teeth, he said:

“When the gap in strength is this big, no technique would work.”

“Well, you’re right. That would normally be the case. But you’re different.”

Mela looked into his eyes, her amber-red pupils glowing with a profound and fiery passion.

“Even though your mastery is very limited right now, as long as you can unleash it, the power of time grants you possibilities that are… infinite.”

*Infinite*.

That single word struck Moen’s mind like a chisel, igniting a fire in his soul that he couldn’t contain.

“You might even have subconsciously felt this yourself, which is why you’re keen on learning powerful combat techniques—to make up for this particular shortcoming.

“But I don’t recommend that you aim to learn strong combat techniques right now.

“Why?”

Mela raised two fingers, indicating her reasons:

“First, highly powerful techniques usually require some wind-up. Fighters who specialize in such skills can build opportunities for them through other methods. But you can't.

“Second, most exceptional combat techniques require a fourth-tier warrior—someone who’s reached the human body’s limits and can harness concentrated battle aura—to utilize them to full effect. For someone at your stage, it’s impractical.

“So…”

“So…”

Moen stared directly at Teacher Mela, a dryness in his throat he couldn’t explain.

“So your genius teacher spent an entire... oh, zero-point-something seconds thinking critically—and created a technique tailored specifically for you.

“*Stacking*.”

“Stacking? You mean… that move from before?”

Moen clicked his tongue. “But I didn’t see anything at all.”

“That’s why you’re a dumb student. Your aptitude leaves so much to be desired.”

Mela cast him a disdainful look before raising the toothpick in her hand again.

“Now we’ll do it in slow motion. Watch carefully.”

In an instant.

Time slowed to a crawl around them.

Slowed to a staggering degree.

The toothpick in Mela’s hand extended forward, so sluggishly that Moen began to question whether it even moved at all.

And then—

The toothpick trembled slightly.

*Thunder*.

It quivered again.

Another *Thunder*.

The movement continued.

Ten times. Twenty times...

One hundred times.

One hundred *Thunder* vibrations rippled in the slowed passage of time. The shockwaves from the first movement had not yet dissipated before the hundredth resonance began.

Then, time resumed its flow.

The terrifying blast erupted before Moen’s widened eyes, roaring outward.

One hundred layers of *Thunder*—

Unleashed in a single instant.

It was like the heavens had unleashed a storm of fury!

“Did you see it clearly this time?”

Mela chuckled softly.

“As I said earlier, it’s not some kind of technique—it’s… a skill. The skill of stacking.”

“By layering force repeatedly and releasing it in one moment, you can generate unimaginable power.

“Put simply, if once isn’t enough—do it ten times, a hundred times, a thousand times.

“If your endurance and strength fall short, then you rely on frequency and burst to seize the advantage!”