Three Wishes : Endless Worlds

Four weeks of burning lungs, trembling legs, and silence heavy enough to suffocate thought. The master had made him antisocial. He hadn't had a proper human conversation in weeks, and that was steadily crushing his mental fortitude. But now he was finally getting what he so desperately wished for — his first real glance at power. Today he was going to learn the breathing technique and hoped he wouldn't be as mentally, physically, and psychologically taxed as with the previous training tasks.

He essentially wanted gain without pain — a law his master had definitely not passed. His master was authoritarian, indifferent to others' opinions on the outside, but of course, as the tsundere he was on the inside, he really deeply cared for his students, platonically.

Nick went to the sento (public bathhouse), a luxury he had only once experienced on the 17th day when he finished his training requirements by almost double. However, his sadistic master had to multiply it by a factor of three — he did not want to think about that. As he soaked in the hot spring at ungodly hours in the morning, his muscles ached and squealed in anticipation for what they had prepared their whole month for. He took his towel and dried himself off, making his way to the second building where he had once seen his master's second disciple, Haruhiko, meditate in total concentration breathing. He had wondered why such a genius, who was on his way to master total concentration breathing in three months, wasn't mentioned in the story.

[Host has chosen Mythical Difficulty which has caused timeline discrepancy.]

[Host should not think his knowledge of the future will save him from the challenges that lay before him or we both will die prematurely.]

As Nick heard the system's condescendingly sarcastic voice, he realized he hadn't really understood that much about the system ,ISA or even this world in general. He had been so focused on training, he had neglected his cheats — truly a shame to all transmigrators.

He entered the dojo when a small silver-looking pin passed by him. It looked like the goddess of luck had smiled upon him, but a seasoned veteran would know that that was not luck — it was skill honed by pain or possibly torture. One couldn't get that level of Danger Sense overnight. Nick wondered if he had gotten a skill related to it a month ago. He had asked the system to prevent showing him his rewards so he wouldn't get overconfident. He again figured that he had neglected his system.

"You wasted my time today, Nobuatsu," his teacher-like figure said. He didn't know why Nick was such a hard name to pronounce. Speaking of which, when he was younger, he didn't really get teachers that couldn't pronounce basic names, but when it became a complicated name, pronounced correctly, truly the real corruption of our world. He was a bit glad to have left such a palace because even within the pain he felt here there was relish — an unwavering hunger in his stomach, and he craved power, and he would kill for it.

Today, I will be teaching you the basics of water breathing, but first, you must learn how to regulate breath and not waste energy. Deep controlled breathing increases your stamina, mental focus during fights, and faster recovery speed. Prolonged use improves muscle endurance, capacity, and strength. Constantly using this will set you for success on the path of demon decapitation. However, don't think it will be easy — this will be the most painful part of your life. To improve your body, you need to do this blindfolded while jumping through an obstacle course specifically made for you.

His body was drained, trembling with every breath. The pain was unyielding, a silent agony that clung to his muscles like a shadow. Nick's mind flickered with doubt, haunted by the weight of failure and the memories of every cut and bruise. But beneath that fragile resolve, something stubborn stirred—an unwavering spark of determination that refused to be snuffed out. He gritted his teeth against the relentless ache and forced himself to focus on the task ahead, his heartbeat steadying despite the shuddering breath.

The grueling days had burned away much of his hesitation, sharpening his mind even as his limbs ached. The cold sweat on his brow wasn't just from exertion—it was the manifestation of a burning determination, a promise he had made silently to himself. He wouldn't let the pain win. Not this time. Every moment of discomfort was a lesson, a step forward on the path he had chosen. And though the weight of failure threatened to crush him, Nick pushed on with barely contained fury, ready to face whatever hell his master would throw next.

The devil couldn't reach me, so he sent me a master like Takashi. The obstacle course sent from hell had a lot of sections dedicated to torture: poison darts to build up toxin resistance, that contraption from Legend of Korra but more rudimentary, loads of vertical dodges, and I had to step into predetermined foot marks to go therein. Accurate speed flexibility courses that would put contortionists to their A-game. I wondered if my master wasn't truly a demon in disguise, but that was obviously untrue. I entered the obstacle course prepared and alert, only to find my leg captured in a godforsaken bear trap. I don't even know what it was called, but it hurts like hell. Then out of nowhere, 16 swords came flying at me. I'm shocked I could count them, but those were from my front, and I had my whole back exposed as the swords made 32 incisions in my already heavily scarred body. I began to lose hope when my consciousness faded and I blacked out.

I woke up to bandages on my body. My body still hurt like hell, and I found it difficult to even wiggle my toes. I was sure that my master had plans to kill me before my end, but that wouldn't happen — hopefully. I silently thanked eight gods, primordial beings, or whatever, for the cheat. All jokes aside, my body still hurt like hell.

I heard my master and his students arguing in the background voices hushed. Haruhiko said, "Why would you do this to him? My training was not as harsh as this," to which the master retorted, "He's not like you — a regular genius. He's more like a hard work and torture type of genius. To survive, he needs more than your training. His training is personalized, and I believe it to be the best fit for him. But if you ever speak to me again like this, I wonder if this world would be a good fit for you."