I had the entire day to myself. Faye was still tied up in the conclave eting, Anastasia and Edward were on their way to my capital, and my plan to force my own awakening was still weeks away.
At the mont, I had nothing better to do, and if this had been my past life, I would have spent the day rotting in bed and waiting for things to happen.
But I really couldn’t afford to do that now.
I knew for a fact that the mont I tried to enjoy so ti alone, sothing would co along and ruin it. Better to make myself useful instead.
As I walked toward my estate’s training room, I was greeted by a beautiful glass garden, its walls and roof made of clear and frosted glass. Flowers and all kinds of greenery lined the edges, softening the whole space.
The rain tapping against the roof only added to the ambience.
It was the kind of place you’d see on social dia and wish you could step into yourself.
But as beautiful as it was, I was here to train.
Beautiful as the edges were, the square center was anything but, scarred with cuts and jagged grooves deep enough to make you mistake it for a tiger’s den.
And in the middle of that center stood a powered-down chanical android, its brass, steam, and electrical components silent yet imposing.
A five-hundred-thousand-gold machine—an all-in-one training partner that could turn anyone into a grandmaster swordsman.
Hopefully, that "anyone" included soone from another world like .
I stepped closer.
Up close, the machine felt heavier, not just physically, but in presence. Polished brass plating overlapped like armor, faint seams tracing along its limbs. Thin lines of etched runes ran across its fra, dull now but clearly ant to glow when active. Its head tilted slightly downward, featureless except for a narrow visor where its eyes would be.
Waiting.
There was a control panel off to the side, thankfully labeled. Even in a world like this, so things never change. I scanned it quickly.
Mode Selection.
Difficulty Scaling.
Weapon Simulation.
Adaptive Response.
Adaptive didn’t sound beginner-friendly.
"Let’s not get ahead of ourselves," I muttered, tapping the lowest setting.
The panel humd.
Then...
Click.
The android’s fra shuddered once, like sothing ancient waking up. A low chanical whirr followed as internal components began to spin. The runes flickered, dim at first, then brighter. Its head lifted, and two thin lines of pale blue light cut through the visor.
Okay.
Mildly terrifying.
A practice blade slid from its forearm with a clean tallic snap. I grabbed one from the rack nearby, lighter than expected, or maybe this body was just ridiculous again.
Either way, I took a step forward.
"So how does this work—"
The android moved. No warning, no wind-up.
Just forward.
I barely got my blade up.
CLANG!
The impact shot down my arms, rattling my bones. That was the lowest setting!?
It didn’t pause. It adjusted. Then ca again, slower, cleaner, asured. Like it was testing .
CLANG!
Still rough and still just as ugly. But I didn’t get pushed back as far.
Alright. So that’s how it’s going to be.
The next strike ca from the side. I blocked, barely.
Too slow, too wide. My stance was off, my footing even worse.
Every movent felt just a fraction too late, like my body was trying to rember sothing it had never learned, likely Cassian’s own technique and my own experience.
The android didn’t rush . It simply kept going.
Strike and adjust, strike and adjust. Like a teacher who didn’t speak but didn’t forgive mistakes either.
Minutes passed.
Or longer.
I honestly lost track. Sweat built along my neck despite the cool air. My breathing grew heavier, uneven, arms ached.
CLANG!
Too slow.
CLANG!
Too stiff.
CLANG—
I missed.
The blade slipped past my guard and stopped an inch from my throat.
The android froze.
Silent, and waiting. It’s piercing artificial eyes staring straight at , waiting for the slightest command.
"Right," I said between breaths, staring at the unmoving edge. "Guess I died."
I stepped back, putting so distance between us as I wiped the sweat from my neck, unbuttoned my shirt, and carelessly dropped it to the ground. Even in the cold weather, training made sure that hardly mattered.
"Shit, I’m sweating a lot..."
I panted, but after taking a minute to recover, I fixed my gaze on the machine once more and readied my stance.
"Again!"
The machine responded at once, swinging in a swift cleave toward my liver. I managed to catch it, then slid along its blade in an attempt to cut into its body, but it was fast—stupidly fast.
CLANG!
I was nowhere near as skilled as the original Cassian, but I was far from a beginner. This wasn’t the first ti I’d used a sword, after all.
CLANG!
CLANG!
CLANG!
We clashed again and again, each exchange ending with its blade just inches away from killing . But with every clash, I adapted to it more and more, my long-abandoned hobby returning to the longer I sparred with it.
As much as I hated to admit it...
My failed career as a HEMA professional was finally becoming useful.
CLANG!
"Ah!"
I lost my grip on my sword, sending it flying backward before it impaled itself on a wooden rack filled with spears. The recoil from being disard made my hand tremble with pain.
The pain alone was enough to make reconsider training like this and just rely on guns instead. This world wasn’t exactly short on firearms, after all. But... if I really wanted to grow stronger, guns were definitely not the best path.
They were too limited.
Especially when it ca to awakening.
For so godforsaken reason, they simply didn’t work well with the magic that ca from awakening.
"This is going to take a while..."
...Or so I thought.
[System Notification]
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