That’s how I spent my days: running tirelessly around the training ground.
The routine beca constant and, surprisingly, I got used to it quickly. At first it was hell: I ended up lying on the ground unable to move a muscle, and I had to rely on Alice to get back to the mansion. But the body is stubborn. With enough punishnt, it learns.
And luckily, just in ti... tomorrow would be the day of the duel.
Tomorrow, finally, this charade would end.
Part of wanted it desperately. The other part... felt absolutely nothing.
There was still work to be done. It wasn’t enough yet.
I kept moving, feet burning and legs trembling. Sweat soaked through the fabric of my shirt until it clung to my skin like an unpleasant second layer. Every breath tasted like tal, as if I were swallowing rusted blood.
The servants watched from a distance. More of them than before.
So simply observed in silence, others whispered among themselves.
But the strangest thing was sothing else: the number of won in the training field had increased.
Young maids, mages, even soldiers with no reason to be there wandered around. So carried empty jugs or pretended to clean benches that were already spotless. Others just strolled through the corridors, engaged in dull conversations... though their eyes, without fail, always ended up on .
At first, I thought it was coincidence. But no...
Their eyes followed carefully.
Not out of pity.
Not mockery.
Sothing subtler. Curiosity, maybe? Admiration? Possibly...
but the desire was stronger.
A chill ran down my back — their gazes were like hyenas waiting for their prey to lower its guard.
I think I’d prefer if they kept insulting .
It felt like if I let down my guard for even a second, they’d co running at .
I could have scolded them.
But I didn’t want to waste my ti.
I just wanted to keep running. Run until I couldn’t anymore.
Another change I noticed was Lucius’s absence.
He never returned. Not even a shadow of him crossed the place in all these days.
And when the sun dipped behind the mansion’s rooftops, no one remained.
No soldiers. No servants.
Even Alice had duties to attend to.
So I was left alone.
Just , in this massive empty field.
I stopped in front of a couple of wooden dummies — old and worn, covered in cut marks and scorch burns. One had its torso split as if pierced by a spear. The other hung crooked, an arm dangling loose.
Standing there, I looked at my hands. They were trembling.
—What did you expect...? —I muttered bitterly—. This body hasn’t held anything heavier than a spoon since it was born...
I took a deep breath.
I had to start from the beginning: stance, balance, breathing, intent.
I adopted a makeshift guard. Right leg forward, torso slightly turned.
I didn’t have a sword yet, but I curled my fingers as if I held one.
My shadow stretched before , warped by the orange light of dusk.
I closed my eyes and exhaled.
—Haaa...
The world vanished.
.
.
.
Everything fell into absolute silence — a suffocating void that seed to devour everything.
And when I opened my eyes, I was no longer in the field.
I was in a ruined city, enveloped in smoke and the tallic sll of blood. The structures were in pieces, as if a giant had trampled them. The sky was red and heavy, with no sun, no moon. Only black clouds, swirling like hungry beasts.
Across the battlefield, amid the rubble, a figure erged.
«.
But not the from now.
«Him... theHero.»
His hair was ssy, his eyes sharp as blades. His body was firr, stronger. He wore light black armour, stained with ash. His expression seed to want to destroy everything.
—I thought I’d forgotten what you looked like... —I murmured.
The Daven from before didn’t answer.
He simply took a stance.
And so did I.
A sword materialized at my waist.
Its silver hilt shone beautifully as I drew it in this broken city.
He did the sa, as if every one of our movents were perfectly synchronized.
The duel began without warning.
—Tch...!
CLANK!
Our swords clashed mid-air. The impact echoed loudly, making the rubble tremble around us. The vibration traveled up my arms to my shoulders.
I stepped back, and he advanced with chilling precision.
Another strike.
CLINK!
Then another.
CLINK!
Sparks flew every ti our blades t.
He moved with fluidity: short steps, perfect positioning, no wasted energy.
I could barely keep up.
My form broke.
My parries were unstable.
Each exchange dragged closer to the edge.
A sudden turn — his blade ca down like a guillotine aid to split my skull.
—Tsk...!
I couldn’t react fast enough.
I dove to the side, rolled across the ground — my back slamd against a broken slab.
I breathed heavily.
My muscles scread, and even though nothing was real... it felt like hell.
I stood up with effort, returning to guard.
And the fight went on.
Again and again.
Faster.
Harder.
But in the end...
I always lost.
My sword was knocked from my hands.
My defense shattered.
And his blade stopped just inches from my neck.
"You’re still not strong enough,"
the figure murmured for the first ti, shattering my ntal world.
***
When I opened my eyes again, the sun had dipped lower, bathing everything in a reddish hue.
Real sweat trickled down my temples, even though I’d only taken a few actual steps.
My breathing was heavy, my heart pounded as if I’d just run ten more laps.
—You’re rusty, Daven... —I whispered.
But it didn’t matter.
It was a beginning.
And in that ntal world, sooner or later... I’d learn to defeat the Hero.
«Even if that Hero... was .»
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