While she was daydreaming, she almost buried their meat. Liz noticed it in time, but it still had some parts charred. The second time cooking wasn’t as bad as the first one, but judging by her new partner's eating habits, he could’ve eaten the meat even if it was raw.

  Meanwhile, Liz was a picky eater, so she barely touched it, only after a few bites. She was already missing her regular home-cooked, delicious meals. She finished what she could, then found the best spot to sit. She leaned her back against the widest tree in their camp. The tree was on a small hill, so she could have a slightly better view.

  Liz was bored out of her mind, so she found nothing better to do than ask her new companion questions.

  “Why are you wearing that hat?”

  The man in the ridiculous hat took a long pause, and Liz was about to ask him again when he said:

  “I wanted to surprise someone.”

  “Is that someone a demon hunter?”

  “Yeah.”

  Okay, it is at least something. She thought, then Liz leaned a bit forward, as if preparing to ask something serious.

  “What is your name?”

  The resting man leaned back on both of his hands against the cold grass, turned his hat toward Liz, and said:

  “Did nobody tell you that before you ask someone’s name, you should introduce yourself first?”

  “Good one. Okay, I’ll be first. My name is Liz. I’m originally from Frey, but since you probably know what happened, the last seven years I spent here in Zayaha, preparing to become a demon hunter,” she over exaggerated her voice pitch, clearly not taking it seriously.

  The whole interaction was a joke for both of them, so the Man in the Hat also played in.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay, are you not going to introduce yourself?”

  The man in the hat was just laughing. Liz felt like an idiot. The lack of practice with those childish games was even more apparent to her.

  “You’re a child.” She concluded.

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  After a couple of minutes, her face turned back to normal. She let it go and asked:

  “Then what should I call you?” Liz protested, but quickly decided it herself, “Well, I’m gonna call you a hat man.”

  He chuckled and said, “Sure.”

  The sun reached its zenith, shining light on the spooky forest. Despite being in a relatively dense area, it was still quite bright. Nothing was happening, and that nothing scared Liz the most. She wondered if all seven days would be the same as the first two. Would they face other participants, or would the forest be too vast, and the only thing she should be worried about is the wild animals, or maybe the lack of easy food and clear water access?

  The next few hours were even less eventful. They only got up when they needed to go to the bathroom or when they were collecting the campfire supplies. The man in the hat seemed completely unbothered. He was dozing off the whole time. Liz was shocked that someone could sleep for so long. A Hat-Man was like a cat, napping through the day.

  Liz was so bored that she couldn’t sit still anymore. She got up, took out her sword, and began practicing her routine. Everything she knew about swordsmanship came from Zywa, who wasn’t a swordsman. Regardless, she practiced hard with all that she knew.

  The Four Cuts drill was a training routine she practiced the most. Today wasn’t the exception. Her stamina, strength, and precision came from that training. When Zywa showed it to her for the first time, she couldn’t even finish the first set. Liz had to build more muscles. Zywa told her to focus on her shoulders, core, and legs. Lunges, pull-ups, push-ups, and many more exercises, just to start from zero.

  She stood with her feet shoulder-width apart, holding the sword high over her head, with the tip pointing up. Swift cut diagonally to the right, followed by a diagonal cut to the left. Then she performed the Drawing Cut: a flat horizontal cut across the body. And finished it off with a low-to-high upward diagonal cut.

  Liz repeated it a couple of times. Her form was clunky, lacking grace or skill. It was as if the sword itself felt awkward, always the wrong way.

  She thought that Hat-Man was asleep again, but when she began her drill, he watched the whole thing.

  “What are you doing?” he asked with a note of disappointment in his voice.

  “Can’t you see? I’m practicing.” Liz answered, annoyed that he saw her doing it.

  “Who taught you that? It’s all wrong.”

  “Wrong? It’s just the default drill.”

  He sighed, “Yes, but for a long sword…”

  A Hat-Man got up, came to her, and began changing her stance like she was his marionette.

  He gently stroked her on the back of her knees, making her bend them, and moved her left leg back, turning her at a forty-five-degree body angle. The foot on the dominant hand side holding the sword was forward, with the blade held near the center of the body.

  “Now do your cut, but think of it more like it’s a dagger than a sword.”

  Liz's movement instantly became sharper, precise, and clean. She felt in control of the sword, in control of her body. She knew it might sound cringe, but it felt as if her weapon became an extension of her hand rather than something she was holding.

  For the first time, she felt joy swinging her sword in the air. It wasn’t just a stupid exercise. It was so light, now she wasn’t fighting against her blade anymore; she was rather dancing with it.

  “That's not even the best stuff.”

  “What do you mean?” she thought: What else could he show her?

  He gently grabbed her by the wrist, stopping her mid-swing. Then he firmly took hold of the long, metal hilt with both of his hands, one above Liz’s and one below. He twisted it in different directions.